Friend and criminal since childhood: bad influences.
No matter where you grew up, you probably have a couple childhood friends who turned out to be bad seeds. Shit, I grew up in the lily-white, upper-middle upper-class enclave of Wayzata, Minnesota. Didn’t stop me from making friends with miscreants who liked egging sailboats, deliberately smashing bottles of black cherry New York Seltzer, and making crazy secret trips to Dunkin’ Donuts at 5:00 a.m. Rebellion knows no tax bracket, I tell you!
Here’s why folks like you and me are so prone to hanging around with bad influences: because having an evil friend is a really good time. No matter how many people he shoots, or how many dancers he assaults, he’ll always have a good story to tell. You can’t put a price on that. Your sociopath friend will also let you share in the sordid thrill of his wild, out-of-control behavior. He’ll say all the things you can’t say. He’ll punch all the people you can’t punch. He’ll snort all the things you can’t snort. In fact, you could argue that without him around you’d have to do all those things yourself just to make up for it. Why do you think players from the Portland Trail Blazers used to commit so many crimes? Think about it. The only way you can find any danger in that fucking town is by eating a bad oyster. Sometimes, you gotta make your own adventure.
But times change. You’re a grown-up now. You have to be responsible. And being responsible means cutting off all contact with any childhood friend who threatens your earning potential. Real men don’t remain loyal to old friends in trouble. Real men turn their back on them forever in a heartbeat and seek out newer, cooler friends to hang out with. Your childhood friend and you may share a special bond, forged in the emotional crucible of adolescence, that cannot possibly be duplicated during the course of adulthood. But is that as cool as hitting the go-kart track with Tim McGraw? Pfft. Hardly.
You can’t afford to hang out with any bad influences. If your friend gets busted selling rocks on the corner to make ends meet, fans and the media will immediately project that behavior onto you, and assume that you have the potential to commit similar horrifying acts. That could, in turn, jeopardize your deal with Vitamin Water. Would your old chum want that to happen? Of course not. That’s why you have to drop him like a fucking stone. You can’t help him. That takes time and effort, time and effort your coaches will want you to put into improving your defensive footwork.
How do you handle the breakup? Easy. All you need is his number and a Dictaphone. Give him a call. Be sure to turn the Dictaphone on before you do so!
Your BFF: Hello?
You: Hey, it’s me.
Your BFF: What’s up?
You: Listen, we need to talk. Remember how you shot that livery cab driver to death last week?
Your BFF: Oh, yeah. That was funny.
You: Yeah. Listen, I was thinking that, in retrospect, that wasn’t a very cool thing to do. Like, maybe you should go apologize.
Your BFF: What are you saying? You saying I should fucking snitch on myself?
You: Does confessing count as snitching? I was unaware of that.
Your BFF: Not happening. That guy deserved it. Livery cab drivers are assholes. Everyone knows that.
You: Look, I’m gonna come clean. I just don’t think we should be friends anymore.
Your Former BFF: What are you talking about?
You: I just . . . I just can’t have you setting such a bad example. It’s hurting my image, and I just don’t think being around you is a good thing for me. I think we’re just in different places, you know? We’ve had some laughs, but I think it’s time you grew up and took some responsibility for your actions. I’ll always love you like a brother, but you know . . . I think I just have to move on.
(two minutes of silence)
Your Former BFF: I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU. I’M GONNA GRAB A RUSTY BREAD KNIFE, COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE, AND GUT YOU LIKE A WILD BOAR. AND WHEN I’M DONE DOING THAT, I’M GONNA KILL YOUR FAMILY, AND YOUR FRIENDS, AND ALL YOUR PETS, EVEN THAT PUNKASS COCKATOO YOU GOT. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO ABANDON ME, BITCH? THINK I DON’T KNOW A THING OR TWO ABOUT YOUR PAST THAT THE COPS MIGHT LIKE TO—
(Hang up now! Hang up now!)
Did you get all that? Excellent. The FBI will handle the rest of this messy breakup for you. You won’t have to worry about your old friend for at least eight years. Out of sight. Out of mind. Chances are, you’ll forget about him entirely. Until he shows up in your hedge one day to brutally avenge himself.
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DID YOU KNOW?
The most infamous bad influence in the history of professional sports was former Yankee manager Billy Martin. Martin alone was responsible for more than 782 cases of relapsed alcoholism, 189 drunk-driving deaths, 57 group stabbings, and 20 farts in church.
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HEAR IT FROM AN ATHLETE!
I am not a role model, because I am too fat to be a role model
by Charles Barkley