I find it highly ironic in a week where David Stern banned two Washington Wizards for the rest of the season for not only bringing their guns into the Wizards locker room, but threatening to deploy them on each other, that Portland Trailblazer center Greg Oden unveiled perhaps the deadliest weapon of all on the internet. Or perhaps more accurately, a picture of Oden in all of his naked glory found its way onto the internet, allegedly the result of a disgruntled former girlfriend.
Now, I am going to give you the link to see the picture, however an "NSFW" warning does not do this picture justice. Let me just warn you right now that if you are a man, you will come away from viewing this picture feeling so woefully inadequate that you may actually reply or
click the link embedded in one of those "EXTENZE" spam emails that sneak into your inbox every now and then.
Put it this way, in the game of sex, following Greg Oden as some girl's next boyfriend is the equivalent of following Michael Jordan on the Chicago Bulls, Joe Montana on the 49ers, and Billy Zabka in any subsequent Karate Kid movie...COMBINED. It can't be done. Trust me, I don't care who the next guy is, if you choose to follow The Oden (and yes, that beast at the
base of his abdomen is now being referred to as a proper noun), your lady will be filing her nails during sex asking if you're done yet.
The fallout in all of this has been very unfortunate for Oden, who by all accounts is a really good guy who has had Godawful luck with injuries (and apparently with relationships) pretty much since he graduated from Lawrence North high school in 2006. He has been legitimately emotional about the picture leaking out, even if the only thing he really has to be scared of is
President Obama perhaps asking to deploy his unit as a weapon in the war on terror.
I, for one, would like to see Oden embrace the controversy. It's 2010, no need to be apologetic anymore about pecadilloes as minor as a disgruntled former significant other trying to out you by putting pictures of your Magic Johnson on the world wide web.
Remember, only when I decided to go OPPOSITE of my inclinations for rational thought did I start to win my football bets again. Greg Oden, I implore you, for your own sanity, follow the opposite of your instincts. Embrace this lunar eclipse your weiner has caused.
Schedule autograph sessions where you sign 8x10 glossies of the shot. Do it unapologetically and with that million-dollar smile. Hell, do it naked!
Think about product placement. Put your name on one of the items at the concession stands in the Rose Garden Arena. They can sell the regular hot dog for $4, the foot-long for $5.50, and The Oden for $10! Seriously, how many people would they pack in the place if they had a females-only Oden-eating contest at halftime of some ho-hum game against the Timberwolves?
And you know those Dodger hats that people buy with Manny Ramirez dreadlock extensions attached? Talk to the Blazer marketing people about getting a Trail Blazer waist band made with what appears to be a brown elephant's trunk attached to the front center. Who wouldn't pay $15 for one of those?
The possibilities are endless, but I know deep in your heart, you have some semblance of morals (despite photographic evidence to the contrary). You'll worry about what this will mean to your legacy. Well let me tell you, Greg Oden, you and The Oden are a victim of the era in which we live. It's not your fault that you just became conquest number one gajillion of the
undefeated, untied record that the female genitalia holds over the male species. It's not your fault that you are growing up in the age of webcams, Skype, Deadspin, and cell phone cameras.
Are you telling me that if cell phone cameras existed back in the late '70's that Darryl Dawkins wouldn't have been Twittering pictures of his Chocolate Thunder daily? You're saying the guy who named every single dunk he ever threw down would not have fired off a Tweet like this?
LOVETRON53 Yo dig the Chocolate-Thunder-Flying, Bicthes-Be-Cryin', Teeth-Breakin', Rump-Shakin', Wham-Jam-Take-IT MA'AM - http://twitpic.com/bigschlong
Are you telling me that if it were as simple as snapping a digital photo and then firing it off on your iPhone to an email distribution list that Jack Haley wouldn't have been jumping at the opportunity to take up close and personal pics of Dennis Rodman's...um, rod, man?
And while Billy Paultz appeared to be a fine, upstanding gentleman, would it have not been difficult for a man with the nickname "The Whopper" to refrain from snapping off a JPEG or two of himself wearing just one of those cardboard Burger King crowns? I say "Yes"!
My point, Greg, is this -- you'll have many people in your ear the next few days trying to console you and help rationalize what happened. They'll tell you that this won't define you, and that you should not let it define you. I'm here to tell you, as one of literally millions of males whom you've now obliterated psychologically leaving us wallowing in our own penile
ineptitude, it would be a slap in the face to all of us if you did NOT let this define you!
Because if you don't, then all that's left to define you are a pair of rickety knees and a dogshit low-post game. Hell, even I have both of those things!
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.