If you don’t know University of Missouri point guard Marcus Denmon’s timeline: here’s a brief, fantastic article.
It’s fairly well recorded that I’m a giant homer. I root for my teams blindly, assume whatever they are doing is the greatest thing on the planet, and if they lose it’s obviously the referee is who to blame. I love the Chiefs and Royals. I love Manchester United and the Lakers, I suppose. But most of all, I love the Tigers. I. Love. Tiger. Basketball. I follow it every day. I get my kicks hearing a crowd roar with MOOOOORE after a Steve Moore sighting (though I miss the rec-specs). I remember the Snyder era, despite my strongest efforts to forget. I knew head coach Mike Anderson was the right choice. I’ve called in sick to watch Mizzou play D-II teams. I pray for the Tony Mitchell decision by the NCAA to be a joke, but am becoming more and more doubtful. I cried when Mizzou lost to UConn in the Elite 8 in 2009, but also when we beat Memphis to get there. I hunted down DeMarre Carroll’s NBA banner in Memphis to take a picture next to it, and chastised a Grizzly’s employee for not knowing who he was. I love Tiger Basketball. And recently one Tiger has been making national attention for reasons basketball and not. This is my letter to him.
I know you won’t read this, but that’s ok, because I’ve been reading a lot about you. I’ve read about your life in my hometown of Kansas City (though we couldn’t be from more different worlds, it seems). I’ve tracked your miraculous improvement from last year to this, though I am suspicious you’re not all that shocked of it all. I’ve read about your cousin Marion, whom you call your brother, and how important he was to you. And most of all I’ve read about your grandmother. She seems to be a blessing. And I’ll keep this brief since you will probably never see this, but thanks. Thanks for your hard work on and off the court. Thank you for showing up every minute of every game. Thank you for controlling it all. You could go on an outrage and no one would blame you, but you don’t. But, most of all, thank you for being a good person. In a world where 95% of sports stories are about sexual assault, attention whore, contract driven prima-donnas and off the field crime, you’re someone I am proud for my 12-year-old brother to look up to. Through all of the trash in sports there are guys like you, and I’m proud to call you a Tiger. Actually, you make me proud to call myself a Tiger.