For The Real Win

Reality television is here to stay it seems and one of the break out series was Basketball Wives. A show based on the lives of current/ex wives, girlfriends, and a baby's mom of professional basketball players became an instant hit as the girls talked behind each others backs, shopped, and tried their best to pretend their husbands weren't playing HORSE with some other chick during away games.

Most of the kickbacks these women received were synonyms for the title groupie and in the season finale, the girls cried around a private dinner party, explaining how people couldn't identify with them, how painful their kind of suffering was, and how all-around terrible their champagne dreamed lives were. They may be crying now, but these women, for the most part, were very calculated in their decision to land NBA players. It's a lifestyle that is anything but undercover. Everyone knows that basketball players are just as notorious for their infidelity as they are for their jump shot and every girl involved with one, whether by nature or nurture, knows what she's signing up for. To whom many dollar signs are given, much is required.

The other night, I was watching the finals at a bar with some friends. At some point, Basketball Wives came up, naturally, and then the general topic of groupies followed. It seems that, for the most part, all the girls chase the same first or second string dudes. But what about the guy sitting at the end of the bench? The one suited up, but who won't see any court time unless several people get stomped under Big Baby's left pinky toe. I'm just using my noggin here, but if I were going to go after basketball players, I'd go after those guys. The lowest of lowly paid NBA player, can still make between $300,000 and $500,000, which is still more than you probably have and being that the money is probably why you're running after him in the first place, I'd assume the paycheck is the bottom line. Those guys probably get the slingbacks, the chicks that can't get to Lebron or even some middle of the road player on a team who can't even figure out where they're from, like the Nets. So imagine his glee when you roll up on him first. He won't be able to contain his excitement at finally being a starter. A couple holes in a condom later, and you're in there like Royce Reed.

Sure, the higher up the NBA chain, the more zeros, but being that this is all a game anyway, the grand prize being an anal prober like Kobe, why not use some sort of strategy? Instead of going after the big dogs against a sea of scantily-clad, unbeweaveable women, why not drop the ball a bit and slam dunk yourself a mid level player with big dreams of being your first string. Now, if you were really smart, you'd go after the professional bowlers or golfers. They make way more money and while all the girls are staking out the hotels of bballers, footballers, and any baseball player besides A-Rod and Derek Jeter (he's marrying Lyla Garrity!), you could strike it rich with this guy...and no, not Chris Paul.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins