Dear Benoit Benjamin,
Several years ago, while moonlighting as a center for the Seattle Supersonics, you did an interview in which you were asked to share some of your cooking expertise with the viewing audience— specifically, how to cook shrimp.
Fortunately for me, I was watching on the television.
I ran and got a pen and paper so I could write down the steps and ingredients needed for Benoit Benjamin's Shrimp Surprise or something. But for some reason, you seemed to be caught completely off-guard by the question. You squirmed in your seat and looked uncomfortable. It was as if Tom Cruise had just asked if you ordered the Code Red. You awkwardly instructed viewers to put shrimp and butter in a pan and "fry it up".
Gee, thanks Emeril.
In the history of sports, there have probably been a few interviews that were more awkward (Jim Gray trying to interview Chad Curtis comes to mind), but not many.
Why were you so uncomfortable discussing your cooking skills?
Your secret is actually pretty simple. You were a multi-million dollar athlete. Asking you for cooking advice was like asking Naomi Campbell for anger management techniques, Keira Knightley for tips on how to get rid of that extra ten pounds or quizzing Charlie Brown about which conditioner he recommends.
You didn't do your own cooking any more than baby birds chew their own food, but your secret is safe with me.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Dear Month of March,
It's your time to shine. All calendars are turned to you. You know what to do-- chin up, shoulders back and show off your 31 days.
I think you're a pretty cool month, but apparently not everyone agrees with me.
Year, after year, after year, people get very angry with you. They even have a name for it: March Madness.
I don't know what you did, but a lot of people are very upset.
You play it off pretty well, but I know that secretly it stings. There's a reason you come in like a lion and out like a lamb-- you can only take so much venom before it begins to wear you down.
None of the other months have to put up with this. Everyone remembers September as the most reviled month of their youth-- the month that summer ended and school began. Yet somehow, September gets a free pass.
March, I know you've made some mistakes, but I want you to know I'm not mad....I'm just very disappointed (and your secret is safe with me).
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Dear Yao Ming,
Let's rewind a few weeks, shall we? The date is February 24th, the Houston Rockets have just won their 12th game in a row, you've been playing pretty well, and in general, you're feeling all tall and important.
Next thing you know you're injured— out for the season. The season! Rockets fans are devastated. You are devastated.
Fans, reporters, analysts, bloggers and probably Moochie Norris all think the Rockets are done. How can they possibly contend without their 7' 6" All Star center?
So you become the tallest and highest paid cheerleader in the history of the NBA.
You're pleased when the Rockets win their first couple of games without you. But then they win a couple more, and a couple more after that.
You start to feel a little insecure.
Fast forward to March 16th -- the Rockets have now won 22 in a row. On the outside, you're happy your team is having so much success. On the inside, you secretly wish they would lose-- just once! Is that so much to ask?
The team was supposed to be done, buried, finished without you. Yet here they are ruling like the Ming Dynasty-- except without Ming.
As you know, the Boston Celtics finally ended the Rockets winning streak. I'm sure you acted upset. You probably put your arm around Dikembe Mutombo and said something about getting them next time. He probably responded with something that sounded like English being spoken underwater.
At least you can take solace in the fact that the Rockets couldn't win 23 straight without you, and that your secret is safe with me.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Dear Shaun Alexander,
A lot of Seattle Seahawks fans think the writing is on the wall. They may be right.
First the Hawks sign TJ Duckett, then Julius Jones. Plus they already have Maurice Morris.
It's too bad; you've done a lot for the team.
However, I have an idea that will help the Seahawks, and will allow you to be a key part of their season: Use the New York Giants 2007 blueprint for Super Bowl success.
Here are three simple things you can do to help the Seahawks win a championship:
1. Make like Tiki. You sort of look like Tiki Barber, so following his path to the television studio should be easy. As a rookie NFL analyst, you will need to establish your credibility by publicly questioning the leadership of the quarterback of your former team. Tell everyone that Matt Hasselbeck is all mouse-like in the huddle. (Wearing Mickey Mouse ears while talking about this may or may not help to illustrate your point.)
2. Special effects. Convince Mike Holmgren to look freezer burned in the NFC Championship game like Tom Coughlin did against Green Bay. I just hope the game isn't played in a dome, because people will start asking questions.
3. Alexander the Great. After the Seahawks win the Super Bowl without you, you will need to continue to play the Tiki role and take credit for the team's success. Just think, all of the glory, none of the falling down before you're tackled.
This is all, of course, assuming the Seahawks release you. Maybe they won't. Maybe you'll win the rushing title this year. Maybe you’ll score 25 touchdowns. And maybe I'm a ballerina.
You’ve had a great run, Shaun. You will be missed.
I dreamed it all up, but it's your secret, and it's safe with me.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Dear Brett Favre,
Well, I guess it's official, you've retired from the NFL. It's been a great run-- maybe the best any quarterback has ever had.
It's too bad you couldn't go out on your own terms. I'm sure it's not a coincidence that the Green Bay Packers website "accidentally" announced your retirement with a mysterious post that was only online for a few minutes, and then a few days later, you actually retired.
You probably wanted to play one more year. Unfortunately, you have to do what the internet says. It's really too bad.
One time the internet told me if I didn't forward this one e-mail to ten of my friends, I would have bad luck. Sure enough, six months later I got a flat tire. It took a while, but in the end, the internet was right.
You're probably upset that the internet is bossing you around. I don't like it when inanimate things tell me what to do either. Kind of like when the microwave tells me I have to take the spoon out of my bowl of oatmeal before I heat it up. Well, It doesn't really say it as much as it displays it with the sparks and everything.
Anyway, back to your problem about the internet forcing you into retirement. Why don't you try to sneak back into the league as a different player? You could be Frett Bavre, the undrafted rookie out of the University of Phoenix.You could act all rookie-like by making ill advised throws, doing crazy shovel passes and carrying around wide receivers on your shoulders after.....nevermind.
Good luck sneaking back into the league, Brett. And don't worry about your rookie secret, because it's safe with me.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Few people are cool enough to be known by only one name. You make it look easy.
You even have your first name on the back of your Seattle Mariners jersey. No one else would dare try a move like that.
You are powerful. I believe you invented Sudoku.
You are probably secretly worried you will turn out like Fabio or Yani or Alf. But you will not become one of those flash-in-the-pan-one-name-only-people. I believe you will be the next Cher...or Batman!
Until then, your secret is safe with me.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Dear Emmitt Smith,
Congratulations on completing your first season as an NFL commentator for ESPN. A lot of people have been poking fun at your command of the English language. It certainly didn’t help that Jimmy Kimmel aired this highlight video on his show.
I admire your restraint. You could have lashed out against your critics in a double negative laced tirade, but you have taken the high road.
I happen to know that secretly, you are teaching us proper English by first showing us all of the ways not to say something. It's a long, painstaking and thankless mission.
Sometimes you even slip up and start to say something that's grammatically correct, but then you catch yourself and intentionally mess it up. Thank you.
You are like a modern day Mr. Miyagi. Just like Daniel-san didn't understand how waxing cars would improve his karate, people don't realize that your (intentionally) bad grammar is subliminally improving our English skills.
Just like "paint-a-fence" and "sand-a-floor" somehow turned into serious karate moves at just the right time, I think one day you'll say, "Show me blowed out", and we'll suddenly realize we know how to speak proper English.
You are wise beyond your beard Emmitt, and your secret is safe with me.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Dear Shaquille O’Neal,
Congratulations on being traded to the Phoenix Suns. You could very well be on your way to another championship. The only problem is the Suns think they’re getting a dominate post player, and you seem to be experiencing an identity crisis. You don’t believe me? Let me remind you of this quote:
“…when I am done playing, I plan on going undercover and then being the sheriff or chief of police somewhere…”
You said that. But how would you go under cover? You seem to think that your size is a secret, but you’re 7’ 1” and weigh about 540 lbs (give or take a couple hundred pounds). Undercover work probably isn’t going to happen. Maybe cloud cover could cover you, but not much else.
So, before you embarrass yourself and ask Steve Nash if you can try on his shoes, remember this…you’re huge! You’re not an undercover agent anymore than you’re a point guard. In fact, you could probably floss with a point guard.
You should have some fun with your size. Maybe you can have your entourage set up toy buildings, or even an entire city. You can pretend you’re Godzilla and wave your arms around in circles and roar!
Anyway, good luck with the Suns and good luck with the undercover work, Sneaky. I’m not sure that your secret is really a secret, but it’s still safe with me.