“As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a gangster.” — Henry Hill at the beginning of Goodfellas, when it was all about greed, excess, and privilege
“Today, everything is different. There’s no action. I have to wait around like everyone else. Can’t even get decent food. Right after I got here, I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce and I got egg noodles and ketchup. I’m an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.” — Henry Hill at the end of Goodfellas, after cutting a deal with the federal government and going into the Witness Protection Program
Ultimately, what will decide Michael Vick’s fate — as a quarterback, as a citizen — will be his ability (or as recent evidence indicates, inability) to transition from gangster to schnook. To tolerate boredom and say “No” to friends. To blend in.
For those who haven’t seen Goodfellas, Henry Hill is the
main character (in a true story), a career mobster who eventually ratted
out his entire mafia family and was sent to live in Witness Protection
obscurity in some sub-development in a small house with a bunch of
suburbanites under a fake name. The visual during Hill’s saying the
final “schnook” line is of his picking up the newspaper at the end of
his driveway in a robe and slippers in front of a tiny home —
basically, like the rest of us 30- to 60-somethings do every day, all of
us schnooks.
For Henry, gone were the days of playing cards all night in
underground casinos, front row seats at the Copa, partying with bevies
of women into the wee hours drunk or coked up or whatever. It just had
to be that way. For Vick, who is now about a year removed from prison
and still swimming in red ink from his bankruptcy case, it now has to be
that way, too.
Apparently, Vick needs someone to remind him of this. I don’t think
Tony Dungy totally got through to him.
If you’ve been able to sidestep “All LeBron, all the time” talk (I
know, I know…I’m as guilty as anyone of feeding that beast) then you
know that Michael Vick has managed to brush up against trouble yet AGAIN
when shots were fired outside a Virginia restaurant that was
the venue for Vick’s birthday party, an event publicized on Facebook
and Twitter with a $30 cover charge and a VIP list. The victim of the
shooting reportedly was Quanis Phillips, a co-defendant of Vick’s in the
dogfighting scandal and a regular in his entourage for most of Vick’s
transgressions the last decade or so — sort of the Scottie Pippen to
the Michael Jordan that is Vick’s social deviance.
Vick’s attorney, Larry Woodward, claims the quarterback was “long
gone” before the shots were fired. Video surveillance indicates Vick
actually left about three minutes before the shots were fired, so if
three minutes is Woodward’s definition of “long gone” then let’s just
say that Mrs. Woodward must feel perpetually unsatisfied.
So notice I didn’t say Vick was a suspect, a victim, or even a silent
co-conspirator. At this point, what has he done wrong? Legally,
nothing. (And of course, I can’t find a font size big enough for the
word “YET”.) But he is guilty of finding his name mixed up with violent
foolishness that was completely avoidable, and unfortunately for Vick,
what the legal system can’t seem to legislate (common sense,
intelligence, buffoonery), Roger Goodell can and will.
It’s why he’s “The Goodfather.”
Ben Roethlisberger got a six-game suspension dropped on him largely
due to a police report that ultimately indicated an inability to
reasonably prove criminal activity. (Ben is also an unlikable douche
bag, too. That helps.) Big Ben became Little Ben, took his medicine
meekly and apologetically with his tail between his legs (presumably
after having to remove some drunk coed from between his legs to make
room). Vince Young’s immediate reaction after a fight in a Dallas strip
club (caught on video, but netting a citation that equated to nothing
more than a speeding ticket) was outright fear of how hard the
commissioner’s bitch slap on him was going to be — why? Because he was
doing something stupid.
The Goodfather doesn’t like stupid.
I’ve never had an entourage, never had serious wealth, and didn’t
grow up in the same environment as Michael Vick — so rather than tell
him what to do, I will ask him “Why?” and sit around hoping someone
forwards this to him so he can answer these questions for me:
Mike, you just got out of prison — why do you ever leave your house
for anything other than to go to the grocery store, go to practice, go
to games, and get a haircut? Seriously, Mike, did you know that you can
get a shitload of movies over the internet via Netflix, that you can
have workout equipment delivered to your home, that you can still afford
to live somewhere that the chances of being within a mile radius of a
gun are about as remote as the Rams’ playoff hopes this year?
Why do you have an entourage, Mike? I guess I understand wanting to
take care of your buddies out of loyalty (if that’s the answer), but
haven’t they proven they’re not a great influence? Do they bring any
value to you? Why do you let your brother hang around with you? He
seems to be an even bigger turd than you. Eventually, don’t you have to
start thinking selfishly?
Why would you throw a party, Mike? For your birthday, for your kid’s
birthday, for your dog’s birthd…sorry, bad example. But why would
you? Seriously, a party at a club that all of your old buddies are
either invited to or can get into by paying a cover charge? Did you put
metal detectors at the front door of the party? Why not? For your
birthday, is it really that hard to just have someone privately cater a
small event at your home for you? You can’t just do what the rest of us
schnooks do and order the Carvel Fudgie The Whale ice cream cake and
watch The Hangover on DVD? Mike Tyson is hilarious in that
movie, Mike! You know, you make Mike Tyson look like Sir Isaac Newton
right about now, Mike.
Why do you lie, Mike? Why did you lie to Arthur Blank? Why did you
lie to Roger Goodell? Why does it appear we’re already starting to see a
fuzzy timeline with the latest rash of bullshit that your complete and
utter dumb-assery hath brought forth? Why, Mike? Why?
I mean…seriously….WHY?
Have fun with the commissioner, Mike. I’m sure there’s a plausible
explanation for why you just had to have a birthday party with a
VIP list at a nightclub in Virginia Beach. I’d love to hear it.
Ultimately, did Henry Hill have to live his life like a regular
schnook? Well, seeing as the real Henry Hill (on whom Goodfellas is
based) was arrested several more times over the past twenty years, is
engaged to be remarried, and just friended me on Facebook this
week…well, that’s about as schnookish as it gets. No one’s asking
Michael Vick to make a run at NFL Man of the Year or even friend me on
Facebook; just stay away from gunshots.
Just accept your life sentence of schnookishness, Mike. It beats the
alternative.
Listen to Sean Pendergast on 1560 The Game from 3-7 p.m. weekdays
on the “Sean & John Show” and follow him on Twitter at
http://twitter.com/SeanCablinasian.
This article appears in Jul 1-7, 2010.
