Long, Long Time
1:00 PM - 2:18 PM
“How great it is that you came all the way up here for your sister's wedding. They portray you as this- no offense- douchey guy, who is absorbed in his fame and the women, but I'll happily proclaim that you are far from it, Mr. Stamkos,” rambled the taxi driver, “What gorgeous weather for a wedding,” He sighed, “I never believed it. I knew that a good boy like you from Unionville couldn't be like that. No siree. I stood by you the whole time. Even as you kind of struggled your rookie year, I knew you were just getting your bearings in the big leagues.”
Man could he talk-not that that is a bad thing. It meant that all I had to do was smile and nod. I checked my watch, which like my sunglasses and suit, it was flashy and designer.
2:12 PM.
The ceremony probably began already. Oh well.
“How much longer?” I ask impatiently.
“Not long, Mr. Stamkos, maybe around 20 minutes at most. Traffic can be pretty brutal. Now I really think this year is your year to get the MVP. I can really see it! When your contract runs out, will you be going to play for the Maple Leafs? Who am I kidding, of course you do! I mean what good boy from Ontario doesn't?”
There he goes again. How is it possible that I'm both the douche bag pro athlete and the “good boy from Ontario?” I mean sure fame changed me. My family was never poor but we certainly weren't wealthy and now I have more money than I know what to do with. Is it wrong that I like nice things? Tailored suits, fast cars, top quality things? Is it wrong that I like having a good time at bars and clubs? Spending time with women and give them gifts? It just so happens that we live in a world, where my skill set is in high demand.
I worked hard all my life for this moment, for the chance to say that I get to do what I love as a job. Suddenly those Kelly LeBrock Pantene ads made sense to me. Don't hate because I'm beautiful.
Don't hate me because I made it.
Man could he talk-not that that is a bad thing. It meant that all I had to do was smile and nod. I checked my watch, which like my sunglasses and suit, it was flashy and designer.
2:12 PM.
The ceremony probably began already. Oh well.
“How much longer?” I ask impatiently.
“Not long, Mr. Stamkos, maybe around 20 minutes at most. Traffic can be pretty brutal. Now I really think this year is your year to get the MVP. I can really see it! When your contract runs out, will you be going to play for the Maple Leafs? Who am I kidding, of course you do! I mean what good boy from Ontario doesn't?”
There he goes again. How is it possible that I'm both the douche bag pro athlete and the “good boy from Ontario?” I mean sure fame changed me. My family was never poor but we certainly weren't wealthy and now I have more money than I know what to do with. Is it wrong that I like nice things? Tailored suits, fast cars, top quality things? Is it wrong that I like having a good time at bars and clubs? Spending time with women and give them gifts? It just so happens that we live in a world, where my skill set is in high demand.
I worked hard all my life for this moment, for the chance to say that I get to do what I love as a job. Suddenly those Kelly LeBrock Pantene ads made sense to me. Don't hate because I'm beautiful.
Don't hate me because I made it.