ONEI am a certified social media specialist, I speak from experience when I tell you, the reader, that the best followers across the internet are ex-athletes on Instagram. Men in their forties, who have conquered the most demanding profession in the world, living strange lives in their twilight, just wandering through a world they never planned for when they were young. Want to see the All-Star 7 times and the future Hall of Fame Joe Johnson posting beef photos at the Hemsworth level? Pau Gasol eating an egg? Follow Reggie Miller’s bike trail exploits? Well, reader, it’s all there and more: a brave new world of older men, having lived through what they were led to believe to be their main purpose, only vibrant, looking for good times and congratulating their children for small accomplishments. The life we would all live if our wildest dreams came true.
Last Friday night, Hall of Fame Celtics striker Paul Pierce set the gold standard for all Instagram content for retired athletes when he, disconcertingly, broadcast live, his eyes glazed and transparently lost, playing poker with his guys while a bunch of strippers circled, tweeted into the camera and looked like he was having fun, while a random NBA game in the middle of the season played on TV in the background.
Feel free to consume this sacred document here, but if you can’t reserve the time tonight, let me take a second to describe a few highlights. Pierce opens the flow saying “let me have a neck massage”. He invites a stripper in the comments, saying that she may be earning some money. He appears to be drinking from a small medicine cup. For about two minutes, he takes time to shout at the Jewish people on Shabbat, says “Shabbat is bursting” and says that he would love “Being on Shabbat”. When someone mentions COVID-19, he says he has already been vaccinated, and then recommends everyone to get the vaccine, which, frankly, is just a responsible message. Then he takes an incredible line from “Stop hating … everyone hating …”
Also this:
We’ve been to Turkey before. After more than a year in COVID’s hell, it is edifying to know that there are moments that make life worthwhile, folks.
In a rational world, nothing happens after that, except perhaps a significant increase in the number of people shouting “TURKEYS” to Paul Pierce as he walks down the street. But, unfortunately, Paul shared his poker and stripper exploits as an ESPN employee, where he was a studio analyst for coverage of the NBA network until yesterday, when he was unceremoniously fired from the world leader for being so cool.
Now, was Paul Pierce a beloved presence on the TVs of this great nation? No, not really. He once said that he had a better career than Dwyane Wade, which was very funny, and to see him miss things was a delightful pleasure, simply because he was an annoying NBA presence on the court during his career. He may or may not have confessed that he shit his pants in the middle of the game and was taken in a wheelchair to hide his shame from a national TV audience. And in any case, all the talents on ESPN’s air are paddling against the current of micromanaged programs produced just inches from their lives after the game.
“But just because he is not Vin Scully, does not mean he should be fired just for having sex live, three sheets in the wind, looking at ass.“
But just because he is not Vin Scully, does not mean he should be fired just for having sex live, three sheets in the wind, looking at ass. Who is ESPN protecting here, exactly? Everyone involved was doing A-OK, even taking the time to promote their own presence on Instagram to everyone who was watching. Perhaps Paul was not being terribly compatible with COVID, but, I mean, he promoted the vaccine! And see, it’s not like he’s the only NBA figure who has taken time out of quarantine to enjoy the company of exotic dancers. James Harden and Lou Williams just received minor suspensions and quarantine tasks, which seems to be enough for me, at least. Did ESPN worry that all children who admire Paul Pierce would try to imitate his behavior? I certainly hope not, because, as Draymond Green once pointed out, there are probably no children who admire Paul Pierce.
It’s not like Republican politicians are lining up to condemn Paul Pierce for his antics on Instagram (too busy trying to deal with the child sex offender). No one is threatening boycotts, protesting outside their stripper’s house / hut. Paul Pierce has not lost any credibility as a basketball analyst – if anything it has polished his reputation, since there is something really unnerving about an NBA player who is not a party animal. It’s just funny shit that happened. You suspend it for a week or ignore it, and it disappears in the background – some funny shitty internet jerks mention it and share it with future internet jerks.
Charles Barkley, the monolithic presence in TNT’s colossal fun post-game at TNT, had a DUI in 2009, told the police officer that he was arresting him “… would turn the corner and give a blowjob” and managed to keep his job after a little slack, because no one was obsessed with saving his appearance or whatever ESPN felt he needed to do to save his reputation as one of his employees talking drunkenly about what he’s been like for Turkey.
Pierce did nothing even an eighth as evil, and yet here he is, in the cold, why wouldn’t ESPN stand for someone to enjoy the company of strippers? What exactly demanded your quick departure when ESPN personalities accused of sexual harassment started working on the network? Did they fail to scan Instagram Live images of him doing anything wrong under the rug?
I’m serious: What is the problem here, exactly? Did they just think it was tacky? This is not baseball or the NFL or republican politics. No one in or around the NBA has historically felt compelled to hold a tearful press conference, where it begged the audience’s forgiveness because it likes to relax with strippers every now and then. It’s fucking professional basketball, and it’s usually above that prude shit. Why ESPN didn’t receive the memo, I can’t even imagine. Leave Paul Party, you cowards.