Todd's Stories #13

As a young boy I was a very passionate and loyal child, but if I felt that you had betrayed me it meant that you were dead to me, and there's no coming back from that.  Forgiveness was not an option for me.  One such example of this fire that I had and the subsequent consequences of my being betrayed is with my child hood hero, Michael Jordan.  During my childhood I followed sports quite frequently, and none more so than basketball.  I loved basketball.  I would spend hours outside of my house nearly every day shooting foul shots and trying to improve my game (that's why my shot is so dank still to this day.)  Like all children, I was a major front runner in sports (Don't lie, you know you were too.)  As such, my favorite basketball team was the Chicago Bulls and my favorite player was the best player on the best team, Michael Jordan.  Oh how I admired his royal airness.  That is of course, until he retired way before his time (I'm talking the first retirement and then going to play baseball.  Who does that shit?)  I felt betrayed that my favorite player of all time would retire well before he had left his prime.  He was on top of the game, but that wasn't good enough for him.  He had to try his hand at another sport, of which it turned out he sucked.  And so Michael Jordan was dead to me.  I got rid of his jersey.  I tore down the posters.  I crossed out his name in the about the author section of the childhood books I had authored which stated how Michael Jordan was my favorite player.  Even after he came out of retirement he meant nothing to me.  There was no going back to the glory days.  It was over.  I moved on from the Bulls and went straight to the Charlotte Hornets where I spent the rest of my youth admiring the likes of Alonzo Mourning, Larry Johnson, Tyrone Bogues, Dell Curry, and the rest of them who I can no longer remember.

The moral of the story is if you are ever thinking about betraying Todd Easton, just don't do it.