Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Post Game #2 Belmont Keebs re cap



EPISODE EARLY. GAME #2 Post Game @ Home. FRIDAY Night in Lex Vegas

Think MOP meets Hoosiers. This is the post, post game - true documentary footage.

(Game #2 Post - POst Game. L:HS takes down a talented and possessed team)

Keebs exposes the roots of the documentary while explaining DJ premier and waxing LHS hoops history to seniors Ross Curly and the big Cahuna Burger POST SHOWER. Keebs later explains Sean Sullivan's had enough of the producers and film crew already after two games.

Tues am office



Happy Tuesday! I'm sending these to my best prospects ! Commonwealth DC. PN Ave. A budding player for office of the year for global payment specialists. TH - u gotta a seat homy

Monday, August 29, 2011

"Number 4 can shoot the ball so don't let him shoot." The Big Guy



Episode #3. Game #2. "Number #4 can shoot so don't let him shoot." The Big Guy.

1-0 Lexington welcomes undefeated and eventual D2 state champ Belmont onto their home turf. Friday night, college coaches are abundant as old players come back. A once rivalry tries to restore itself. Bob is interupted by cell phone (Benny). Lexington aim's for it's 4 straight league title.

RIP. Herman Taylor II, who would've been a senior in high school, and varisty guard for Belmont. he was shot and killed coming off his school bus in another episode of random violence, and as always regardless of the skeptics, he was an all American president of the class type of kid. Boston had over 300 gun deaths that year, most were black, young and of course in the inner, inner city.

You Won't Eat That Lightbulb (The Peer Pressure Song)

a song I wrote for me and Chris that we never got around to recording. We did a couple of versions like this live on a few occasions at the end, happy 2006. :) The Retar Crew bought the rights and as of press time had yet to release the peer pressure song This was Jungle land for STP on the Boss tip hahahahahaha, i imagined it being performed like a musical, theatrical rap

(Hook)
You won t eat that Light Bulb
Bitch you want do it. A legend would do it
You won’t eat that light bulb
Jump start your social status
You won’t eat that light bulb
It might even get, the acne off your face
You won’t eat that light bulb
There’s only 1 reason that you feel out of place (because)
You Won’t eat that Light Bulb
Verse 1.
It’s the worst shit in the world bitch you know shit is true, Peer Pressure with a P, you’d be surprised at what you’ll do.
2 Just fit in maybe make a few friends, the smoke and the shits, thrown up never ends
Hard 2 make amends Got you hooked on dem Med’s. The school just feds Klonapin to your heads
And all alone at school @ home in your yard the only kids you got laugh and call you RETAR!
And that’ll leave a scar that you won’t soon forget
And you break and you cry pray to Jesus just let
Me get a foot, just a toe in the door, I got mad heart one shot, they’ll adore
(Cause you won’t eat that light bulb)
cuz anything be better than this shit right here
It’s dark and it’s lonely and only the lame. Understand what it’s like with no friends and no game
Time to raise my aim cuz yo maybe shit is me
Maybe I’m the reason dad left and I’m in therapy
(cuz you won’t eat that light bulb)
I gotta admit , I love therapy
And yo enough is enough time to elevate and flip
up my whole status start calling nice girls bitch!

And its funny how this school misinterprets what I need, sometimes I need an interpreter 2 convey what I need. But that’ll all change act deranged play the part, steal an I Pod plus a dock sell my own pot!
(cuz you won’t eat that light bulb)
Construct my own stories, I’ll be so cool now
the derivative of me be quite profound.
And what do you know a few detentions I got friends. Stole a whole locker row of wallets in the gym now I got ends.
And now them dope kicks that my mom couldn’t afford are here on my dogs and I’d like to thank the lord.
For my shiny gold bracelet mom I’m no longer bored, before I GET A LICENCE GOT TO BOOST AN Accord
And just like that yo I rocked my first suspension, then I got an invited to a party in the towns richest section
(cuz you won’t eat that light bulb)
what would you sacrifice to burst on the scene
And the next day at school, “R U that kid that’s fucked up.”
“Yeah Trevor you saw me in suspension, what time you pick me up.”
“Well let make it clear a spaz like you roll with me, a stupid broke sophomore better score some hits of E,
and better do what’s he’s told if you want to get in,
my mom’s black Mercedes and be ready on a whim,
(cause you want eat that light bulb)
to roll and thank upper class pull rank Whiskey shots get drank all night we smoke denk.”
“How far will you go, we got like 10 other ASSHOLES,
in the 10th grade, that make such assholes
of themselves and degrade, and it’s just part of the up, but you’ve shown me allot, be at the center court parking lot (tonight)

Chorus.
Cause you won’t eat that light bulb.
Jump Start your social career
You won’t eat that light bulb. Peer pressure, Peer pressure


Friday day @ school and I can’t sit still, say what’s up to Trevor with Brad they say hi, it’s so ill!
And I get a chill, when senior Sarah eyes me, I loved her ever since I first saw her u see!
And it’s easy to me, slap a Freshman, high five
this other cool junior that I met getting high,
skippen class is the best, so psyched I failed that test,
everybody be sorry in this school that ever messed! W / me I C them other cats that called me retar,
hanging in the played little section of the school yar,
and I yawn as I pass can’t call me Retar no more.
Not going let no more phonies shake me to the core
And as I gaze and I limp with the stride of a pimp I see them ten other assholes in my grade starting shit
(cause you won’t eat that light bulb)
(mad laughter as I approach)
“who the fuck does this kid, fucking think he is? Fucking lawnmower spaz retar kid.”
And as they all crack, and laugh, I ask who’s in detention,
they all lay silent so naturally I mention
that Trevor’s picking me up in a Mercedes for Porsches
party tonight so light the Tikki torches
(cause you want eat light bulb)
I trembling with the pssoibilites of what!
And collectively they say no way gay out
But then I drop the pick up time to enshrine my new clout
And then the location got inside information the strangest thing happened the way they looked, so amazing!
(cause you won’t eat that light bulb)
10th graders be so fucking corny
(Chorus)
And ten becomes eleven them cats forget about me
I’m sad but relived when a van out of the B
And that B the blue, so fast not a clue, get kicked in the gut
Suffocated ate glue
(cause you want eat that light bulb)
Chug a beer, take a shot rip a pipe and I’m fucked
And it’s all just tradition so dizzy I’m assured
That lines get blurred runnen with the herd
And Trevor gave his word as the van pulled up
To this packed private party tons of girls getting fucked
Up, up, we went, so many stairs I’m bent, the cribs ain’t like this where I live where we rent.
“Yo! kid, your feeling good cause that was part 1, another couple parts, trilogy and your in son”
And entering the spot, Cajun dope so hot, can’t force another shot, but I’d sacrifice allot.
And it feels like cameras snapping off as we enter, and Trevor yanks my arm and yells, “latest contender!”
(crowd roars)
And Lindsey asks Trev, “is this your latest greatest victim.” And woozily I stand and proclaim it’s just the system.
But fuck I’m hear so I lacerate her ear and said I’m not the latest just the last have a blast and a beer.
(cause you want eat that light bulb)
And gingerly she chuckles like I had much to learn, sit down at a table play Cards blunts burn.
But something strange happened ignorant to the rules
I kept fucking losing and filled with booze. And a shot became a beer became some scotch came some pills I think I ate a tampon and kissed Kenny Mills,
And the party cracked up when I smashed that can on my head and they all laughed astonished “give a fuck!” is what I said
And I high fived Trevor, pass a bottle any bottle be it Vicodin or Valium legnd for a night, full throttle
‘I can ‘t believe he’s still standing’ this fat bitch muttered
this entire house is biscut and I think I just buttered, and I can hear the whispers as I made fun of this dude, and then I smashed a glass on my nose, which Trevor thought was so cool.

And then I whipped it out cause I just saw the doors, and came out as rock as I stared down these whores
Tonight be the night straight put me on the map, I can hear people talking and feel all the dap
And Trevor got the guys and they all rushed back, to the kitchen to jump start my panic attack. Cause I will do it all, I just want to be a legend, so ironic how it started with an in house suspension
And as the party filled up and my eyes broke red, IT WAS SO UNEXPECTED WHAT the fuck TREvor said
You want eat that light bulb (points) “right there?” (laughter)
What?? Um, Im drunk but did you say what I just think you said??
Bitch you won’t do it, bitch you won’t do it
You want eat that light bulb
A legend would do it, a legend would do it
You won’t eat that light bulb
It might even get the acne off your face, there’s only one reason that you feel out of place, because (everyone sings!)
You want eat that light bulb..
And as the crowd swelled my school screamed my name
You only get one shot for fifty-five minutes of fame,
And crept and it crept, and they clapped, and the clapped
My energy came back center of attention is crack.
And I glanced at the bulb now unscrewed on a plate and brought it to my face like a T Bone steak
And the kids from the van propped me up and I could see standing on this cherry table what looked like a sea
of infamy and red faces gone tilt gone mad,
bursting face veins for the kid shit was rad
(cause you won’t eat that light bulb)
Do it man, do it man (caddy shack sample)
And never had I felt so king so fast, look at all my friends therapist kiss my ass,
(Look at me, and look at this sea, and look at that light bulb right there just for me!)
And I dash and I grab this bulb from its stand, the crowd roars its approval GE in my hand, and man a rock band yup, next on my docket, and I yell for dessert “put some cool whip on the socket”
And they all crack, laugh, so jacked up, I’m such a funny cat
and that’s what’s up.
And as Trevor kicks my behind (hurry up) out of the corner of my, me eye, I see that gorgeous senior Summer, peering me in the eye
And her face says no, but the masses scream go, the restless crowd is so awake gotta take make this show.
(cause you won’t eat that light bulb)
the moment of truth, shit it won’t hurt that much, point a finger in the air insert and just crunch,

and put that lightbulb down down it like a Champagne brunch.
The party gets silent as I slowly look up
and swallowed for effect slash, just keep it real, and I turn for my cash for a different sort of meal and the crowd just erupts bumps jumps up my nose as I grab the closest ho and say ‘baby no clothes’
is the next game I’d play I’d like to play it with you
not because your pretty or cute just the closet big boobed


ho out to cap size capatilize on the strength
of my new poll numbers at this party shit is great,
and I yucked and answered with mad authority
more popular than Brad, Trevor, Toz ever be.

and Cassidy on my hip so easy in my ear, said ”do with me what you want I'm with you now dear."
and my rock bleep bloop just caught some extra strength like Bounty Paper Towels shit could handle extra weight. And fondishly I flutter feverish without no stutter, thanked my audience and Brad’s rock star mother and I thanked Porsche
the host with the most
she gave me a room and said “tomorrow morning we’ll toast” (over mimosa)
And I asked Brad and Trev to be safe when they drive and I assured them tomorrow I’d shit the glass from my hide. And mad they couldn’t hide the hate they oozed from their eye, as I slapped the ass of my bitch as she turned and said inside of her wetness is where Jimmy
should
be
now,
and I longed and I thought for my dad who’d be proud. Of me and I know my Godfather Uncle Clayt long lost up in heaven looken down can’t wait, for his long on the lost confused god son, to finally step it up and fucking get some,
and this way u see saves me from shooting up this school dotting up its exterior killing rich and cool
kids that prep and rep that peer pressure
friends ain’t ur friends buddy don’t let it get ya.
And yup, no regrets as I stepped to Porsche’s parents, room and checked for massagers and inhalants *

And yup no regrets, as my pants fall down
And hazily I watch as this ho slurps my clown, and I’m such a clown do whatev to get down as I start to shake, nut and bust I cough to the ground

That was the very last second I could stand, throwen up I could hear “get an abulaaaan –ce, cause I’m puking shit, the very least which be it blood, I saw the vampries race to the floor for their suds, and fuck, shit I’m dizzy, I think I just coughed back on a nasty little cocktail as my digestive systems crack!, and no it’s not the shit, as a shit illiterate Porshe’s now screaming cops be hear ina little bit,.

(Back ground chatter) ‘I mean seriously what the fuck is he doing? This is like my parents bedroom, who said he could come up here?’
“you?”
“Who asked you! OMG, what the fuck!”
“I think we should call an ambulnce.”
“To my parents house so they can see an underage keg and drug party, um, I don’t think so, oh Trevor.”
“Yea baby”
“Take lover boy out of here and leave him in a park, stupid fucking asshole! Oh!) So annoyed, throw him out of the car.” (Banter back ground innocuous chatter)
sounds drowned out.

Chorus comes back, as only the hook can be heard softly

You won’t eat that light bulb, you won’t eat that light bulb
A legend would do it. A legend would do it.

Over and over again little bit softer style like Shout.
A legend would do it, a legend would do it.

And then it flips it flips and starts to get louder.
It might even get the acne off your face, it might even get the acne off your face
(And click in the video the kid wakes up, alone, and sweaty but feeling lucky as fuck. Maybe bet changes All About the Benji Biggie style)
Cause that was just a dream fucked up as it seem you live long enough and they all become dreams and that’s just an ode to them cats who not forgotten,
I mean everyone else lost, seems to forgotten,

but know not me, pen a song, no fee, JQ bring the heat and we’ll never concede.

Anything to non believers cause we done saying haters, and maybe just maybe we can flip a few traitors, cause that thing with the light bulb kid could be you, your parents are the only ones that can ever tell you what to do, stay away from the games that they beg you

and that’s why I stay so true, and true is this track JQ as usual his heart is my back, cause there is a kid that can (express yourself, NWA jack sample) and never ever ever disrespect himself. And we see it clear think peer pressure stops there, you won’t buy a hundred lot of that stock Doc your still so queer,
and you don’t have the nuts to make a little easy coin, I got a hundred other doctors long July pork loin.
And Manson played it best, that’s some Peer Pressure crazy shit, you won’t dismember that director and his pregnant wife and spit, and scrawl in their blood, I know it’s so tough to hear, but these are the defenses you need when the dark side’s in your ear.
And your foolish yet to think, the shit still don’t go on, on the highest level thankful my president is on
A higher level the next and another one, in these trying tough times need cats that ain’t dumb, like our little dumb light bulb eating friend, and his stupid following cronies I swear to god get it back in the end

Be proud of the fact that god put you here, there’s greatness in your smile if you make it ear to ear! Don’t shoot up the school, holler at us if you need a friend.


Sunday, August 28, 2011

clips worth watching II



Last practice before and including opening night on the road, 2006.

Friday, August 26, 2011

TB tRailer STORAGELABS / in memory of "Papa" for Jay Boy. much love homy



Turkey Bowl 99, clutch footage + on the road with Mizzle circa 99 B-Reel, random.

Jay's Grandafather never missed a Turkey Bowl, he embodies our hall of fame of which he had been, and will always remain a decorated vet.

A Quick Teaser (WTDB)



Quick Teaser for "Where The Defense Began" A year in the gym with Coach Bob Farias and the mighty Lexington basketball"

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

EQ. Second edition. Headed To The Spanish Joint to Wait Out The Panic

Earthquake. Pennsylvania Ave evacuation Washington Dc.



We here at Gorilla Dunk Daily take these moments to cover first, before indluging in a nice happy hour.

MLK! A Fitting And Gracious Piece Added To the West Potomoc Park On Our National Mall, DC



the struggle continues, and this reminds us of that while inspiring hope to cause chage and the belief to make it possible,.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Friday, August 19, 2011

T.G.I.F. This Gorilla Is Funky

GD'ers.

Happy Fri! And the amazement of such a day for the working day American can never be understated, what a reward for your hard weekly work, if of course you got after it, which I didn't.

But still don't sweat the small stuff, of course many gorilla readers might ask, what about the big stuff? And yes, I'm afraid we have to worry about that shit too. It's kind of throwing the towel in half way through the semster, the old fuck it. of course in this enviroment you better have the skills to still earn or you'll be under the creek. I apoligize for not having today's blog up earlier but I was up late last night chopping up footage like Edaward you know who, hey without that we would've never had Charlie and the Chocolate factory,. a re-make I still stand behind, Hatty deplores me for.

The gold rush remains in tact as Gorrilla dunk has uncovered massive lines forming outside hoody DC pawnshops that haven't seen action like this since the riots.

I spoke to my father this morning who was angered I hadn't tipped him to my buy of gold around the $1400 high's, he said uncle Van had sold everything and went all in at a G. He's still bullish, waiting for that dip which is getting harder and harder to see as the latest view of the world econopmy comes into a great focus in Q3, 2011. I quote Gordon Gecko, "I liked it at $35, it's an insult at $40." hahahaha of course high gold is here to stay, inflation is on the creep and the worlds problems against the same world when gold, in 1980 traded to a pre adjusted highs of $2400 an ounce are of a far greater scope and magnitude, I believe that. In 1968 the dollar was fixed to gold so there. So buy gold, I liked it at $1400, I love it at $1800, there it is.

Of course you never went to be 12th on the deal team, last to know, if everyone goes one way, the winner runs the other direction, but hey, I just can't see a scenerio right now and hindsight may very well prove me the fool. It's also an emotional hedge, which is huge for me. If gold drops considerably, I'll happily take the loss amid a calmed down world. God bless the hedge and futures markets around the globe. Dam, the local guys traded contracts in Chi town hate that Dodd act.

News. Was it any surprise that the first ever reality TV suicide occurred on the real house wives of Beverly Hills? Have you ever read what what's his name said about Hollywood after living there and hitting it big post NoteBook? He said they should have people move rocks back and forth a couple of hours a day just to have something to do.

Imagine being depressed in a place where everyday is the same. Think about it.

The Patriot's are sick. I love them against the spread for at least the first two if not three. Once spreads jump to college like levels, we'll begin to talk shorts, they'll still win and we can still profit, paradise. What people need to understand is that big Albert Haynesworth no matter will be in the line up week 1, even if he misses the entire pre-season ala Randy Moss 2008. And he will be a force people have yet to fully embrace next to Vince Wilfork, scary with that offense.

I've been trying to make last second plans to Chicago to catch this Sunday Retar show at the double door. This will be a bizerk, still very much underground, happy, happy live performance.

Next up, Georgetown college basketball team against the top Chinese military basketball team, yes you read that right. They played the army, fouls called went something like this; 52 against the Hoyas, 13 against the Red Army, these dudes went too far. Now back to the university of Miami and yesterday's post, I wish they sent their men's baskball team to KTF out these over stepping / ruff playing foreign gorillas, this was uncalled for. The picture of a crazed Chinese fan kicking my man Jason Clarke defenselss on the rgound, who would whip his ass anyway caught my Friday joy off guard. Fuck that, I was a big Chinese fan after watching the Kissinger doc on Nat Geo and now I'm reeling it back. It's our sport anyway fellas, and it was invented in my home state. my parents home state and their parents before the long sail, so take it ease, and show some respect.

Incidentally Dr. Suess lived on the same street in Western MA that Dr. Naismith (baskets) lived on, imagine that, hip hop and basketball have deep roots fans don't entirely comprehend.

I watched a program to air on Nat Geo last night called Brain Games with David Copperfield, and wow, it's interactive and I failed every test. The movie sought to explain magic and how our brains process information. The opening phrase of the entire episode was, "attention is like currency to your brain." I knew I was fucked, I'd wish I could raise the attention ceiling in the congress of my brain, waut, a moment of clarity, "dam no wonder my Ritalin is so expensive" Dam now wonder why they have yet to drop that into the generic form. And the diagnosis per Google / Gorilla news per captia has surged 18% over the last 24 months in the US.

And lastly as always, and to quote the Big Guy, "unbelievable."

Let's take it home below with some good old happy Pac, Happy Friday ya'll. Stocks close sharply down, OK, it's OK, own the weekend. And remember this weekend, it's all bout U. 1 time!

Charlie Paradise



Thursday, August 18, 2011

Thursday August 17th, 6:17 AM, dunkage time.

Good morning Gorrilla’s.!

What it is low, what it is. Happy AM! Now get out and see a sun rise, it’s my goal to watch it come up this Sat from the high steps of the Lincoln (I freed the slaves yo!) Memorial, basically the lead off hitter as you make your way from the south tip of the nations glorious mall. Anyway, I’d like to start this morning with once again the Arab spring, and how glorious it all is minus the bloodshed, but this is Casablanca and not say Dances with Wolves.

Casablanca is the single greatest American movie ever made, end of our conversation. It’s about our world and what a critical time it was, “welcome back to the fight, this time I assure we will not lose.” Goose bumps, the greatest American movie of all time you see can’t be sci-fi adventure. Anyway this morning’s piece jumps off the sizzling nature of my key strikes with the trial of Mubarak in Egypt. And quick shout out to my now 3rd office mate Aren Furaq, a player from MN that came back to us after escaping the uprising in Egypt after working on the floor of the stock exchange over there in Cairo. He slangs next to me, and on the phones like Gangstarr I’m one of the best yet. Anyway I don’t know who I blame for this, but whose fucking idea was it to put this man on trial, televised to the world laid up in a cage ala Hannibal Lecter, excuse me Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Now gorilla dunkers, you don’t think the maniac in Syria saw that footage and didn't say, “fuck that! It ain’t going to be me.” And not coincidentally the violence in Syria following the Egypt’s dudes first day in court televised ramped up the “crackdown.” In fact violence in Syria has surged 200% since the first airing of day 1 of the ridiculous specter of Mubarak’s trial. In fact that’s all any dictator needs to see to mince thoughts and chop away any remaining fibers of hearty mediums. Now I’ve read that the mighty India might have an uprising of their own, well to do Indians that have migrated and now our American rich might tell you the poor our happy over in India, but I find that’s rarely the case. Their system reeks of the white mans rule, the white man did a number on Indians and their ruling cast system which basically defines you day 1 should come under pressure. So you wonder if this fizzles, this Arab spring, it’s already taken down a few dictators, how many legs does it have left? And is their a place for men and regimes as such in the 21 st century, I think not.

And this Arab spring, it once again with all these evil men walking the plank right now or staving of the will of their people as they live 100,000% above the level of the men and women they say it’s their job to serve, well it makes that dam Iraq mistake by Bush all the more glaring, why Sadam? Oh yeah, I forget because he tried to kill your father. The world wasn’t at a shortage of ruthless dictators.

Anyway moving on to a fun (er) topic, my favorite hood scam football program in America, the University of Miami Florida affectionally referred to by their startling number of players in the NFL over the last thirty years as only the “U” is back in the news big time guy! Ok, I love this story, you have to pay college players anyway, you can’t get around that. But I love the guy, currently in jail after defrauding investors out of up to 950 million dollars in the old ponzi scheme. What’s with Southern Floridians falling for Ponzi schemes again and again? But this guy is a trip, I especially loved the fact he was referring to “Uncle Luke” (Luke Campbell, 2 Live Crew), and that someone had to be there to continue what he had started. Mainly lacing the fuck out of the players, creating that image, that life we tune into MTV cribs for. The bottom line is that big time sports schools our corrupt, and I’m willing to bet that the millions the football team has netted, might say billion at this point goes towards paying some of the massive “administrative” costs and high salaries of the university’s board members.

College is a scam, wait (burp) let me say that again, college is a scam! And I love the recent silicone valley billionaire that started a program that has come under heavy scrutiny for urging kids to drop out of school and become entrepreneurs. This leads me to my favorite quote, “Don’t let school get in the way of your education.” Fucking college, what a joke, pay the players, you have too. It’s akin to slavery once again the white man does not give up his cash coffers easy in this country. And traditionally the law is on his side, judges our in their pocket. The money this program brings in is eye popping and where that money is spent is ambiguous at best. If you want a job that probably pays too much with amazing benefits and job security work for a major college in America, you’ll be glad you did, fuckers.

Anyway, you know me, I love the idea of this guy down there throwing 50 G’s at Vince Wilfork partying on a yacht. If adults behaved in a somewhat adult manner then the bad lessons kids take from sports starting at a young age would be minimized. Other sports tid bits, this just in Vince Young has told gorriladunkdaily that the reason the former AFC MVP QB deciding on signing with a team clearly to be the back for years to come in the prime of his career was simply, “Yo fucken playen four years at Texas burnt me the fuck out.” And I can live with that, and I’m sure it did. The man delivered a championship to Texas, the University of Texas after chopping up many hard years on their sacred football gridiron. You know how fucked up his view must have been of the world after winning a national championship at Texas, and of course just being their starting stud QB for so many years / games? Very fucked up, the man was on suicide watch in TN a few times, as a multi millionaire.

And speaking of Vince Young, I remember our friend and super Bowl champion Justin Hartwig telling me a great Vinnie Young story. J. Wig who had a signed U. Texas Vince Young game helmet on his mantle at his Carolina mansion when we first met, he told me he had first met Vince Young at an NFL event down in Austin TX of all places. Wig had been in the league for five years at that point and at first loved Vince Young. He said they got in his truck and the man lit the “L”.
Wig. “Bro what are you doing? The last thing we need.” Wig asks Vinny Young aware of what a nightmare in the press this would be if they ever caught a weed beef.
Vince Young’s response choking out a cloud of haze, “We straight, this Austin, I hope we get pulled over!” Crazy shit for the brothers out there that have been tailed their whole life simply walking into a white CVS to pick up medications for their family\, well hard to imagine it could be like that?

The rules can be a myopic discussion / illusion.

OK, I’ve gone a little crazy posting Lexington basketball stuff lately, and I intend to peel back some of the posting minus a few gems as I come along them. The goal is to complete. The goal is still to unify and the goal is still to tell this crazy story about what happened to the Big Guy, I should call him today, Fall River and their famous Lizzy Bordaine murder from the early 20th century was on the front page of the Wall Street Journal this past Tuesday. More than anything I want the players of the day done captured to be able to see some of this stuff they have desperately asked us for over the course of now almost five years, holy shit.

My goal this year is not to be sued. I’d also like to bring my meat vs. Vegetarian intake to a clean 50/50. You have to change with the world and I’m not trying to get prostate cancer.
I’ve been operated on in an ECU five times in my life, that’s a big number, I basically live in fear I’m going to die everyday and that explains some of my output with the film, blogging, the charity, the book, etc.

Favorite mom quote from back in the day.
Mom. "Carl why don’t you just take your Ritalin, it helps."
And me because I hated taking my Ritalin unaware in my childhood indolence of how much it actually helped me. “Shut up ma, why don’t you take a Zanex?
Mom. "I just took 2! I have to living with you!"
Oh doctor that’s so funny in hindsight frustrating I’m sure in the pulpit of the seventh grade. Speaking of back in the day, all hand s on deck, we call on you Mr. Mike Presnky to post that footage of our 5th grade camping trip! It’s been sitting on DVD at his place for years, and there is an appetite to view. Even our old fifth grade teacher Mr. Popp has requested dearly to see. It’s amazing and I bring the house down with a fight for your right to party rendition with T. Nolen, the stage is rushed and the house is brought down, I’ve been killing them all since jump ball my ninja’s. The coolest thing about that footage minus seeing Billy Dalwin , one of many classmates of ours that died, ironically enough in Lexington public school systems over the years. A car in Mike and my neighborhood hit him; he died in the summer going into the 6th grade. But during my Beastie Boy stage eruption I’m wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt, foreshadowing glory to come, funny. Half the reason I want Magic to post that is so I can show Wig, me, busting the Steelers gear in the 5th grade, random cause I was such a huge Patriot’s fan.

OK my gorillas, and speaking of ninja’s I need to post the gem the retar crew concerning this very topic of ninja’s. It’s a classic. You can see the Ninja vid below. Please take in a hilarious vid with your coffee this AM.

OK, time to edit and wrap, phone calls start in just over an hour. Stock futures are down big time, the debt contagion spreads and much like the Arab spring refuses to die. What’s sad if I’m a European is that American slick talking power bankers, brokers and traders are to blame for your banking crisis. They created shit and new no matter what, the Germans (yes, your reading this correctly) the Germans would always buy it. And now their banks are failing. We need to curb the scope and the instruments we use to speculate in this country. And it sucks, and we might double dip, and these are uncertain times and the US dragged the world into quite a mess with this sub prime and Houdini act pulled off by Morgan and Goldman, the street. Push stuff they dump and insure yourself against it. All the while netting billions for a lucky 1% and spin the world into the recession of our lifetime, a great recession, that might now be double dipping, remember what I said half of the great depression, we got a ways to go and the GDP # might not turn up a few ticks in time for the next election.

IN any event we’re here now, think Pretty Women, what are you going to do today? Work out if you don’t bike to work, open the door for a stranger and open that door with a smile. I’m still amazed every week at the contagious power of a random smile to a stranger; smile more, life is not a New York subway ride. And do you dawg.

Peace and love yourself.

CEE AKA Chucky P.

Ninjaology

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Middlesex League dunk contest, all-star / Lexington presented with league title, the doc team in full effect, 20-0



This is some of my favorite stuff mostly because I'm in it and B) I get to kick it with the Big Guy just like old times. He had known me since I was a little kid, right after my lawnmower accident, I was eight years old the first time we met. And after that he would see me every year at all three of his summer camps, 2 at Hayden and the one at center courts. And that was until high school where he'd soon see my everyday.

He taught me as a kid to work hard and practice perfectly if any of us ever hoped to play for him, and that's all we wanted to do. And that's hard for some people to understand. And that's what this was, it was like a giant corporation that essentially ran itself, and that's what had been built, and that's the way it always had been. And the sadness for me comes to the kids now that are seniors or juniors or freshmen or eight years old maybe attending his famous Hayden camp for the very first time. Best quote of this extended clip, "Hayden, Lexington, what else ya need? Oh yeah Disney World." Listen for it, it's great.

And now more than ever it's vital this footage many of us sacrificed a great deal to make happen. Also shouted out in this clip is John Berg and Derek Evans, class of 89, we were talking 80's for a portion of the diatribe with Coach Brinklow (88). Anyway Bergy and D. Evans originally approached the Big Guy about doing an Lexington basketball movie, it never got done. Those guys, one produced Elf and the other the 6th Sense they went to Hollywood and blew the fuck up, up, up. The fraternity of former players and some of the startling successes equals the glory that came from playing varsity basketball at Lexington, a powerhouse.

And Bob would eventually become my teacher as well, saving me after losing 23 credits in one spring quarter my Sophomore year. I became the first varsity player at the time to be in his program, ACE, alternative choice education. And this allowed me to A) stay out of trouble and B) still be allowed to graduate on time, we all worked out this big crazy plan and shockingly Mr. Robinson agreed and then it was on me.

And my time in the ACE program which you'll hear a few stories in this extended clip was jubilation. I learned wisdom but also got knowledge and always every single day a great laugh. And you know Coach Sullivan, we filmed a ton of footage this same year when he was at Concord, Coach Sullivan, the last point guard to win a state title in Lexington believe it or not with Coach Bob Farias engineered the miracle that was my high school graduation. My mother will always be eternally grateful.

And how do you put a dollar on that? And the best part for us doing this is the realization of what a gigantic thing it is, going all the way back to the late fifties, when Rollie Massamino first hit Lexington and revolutionized the program by deploying a new defensive concept, ball, you , man. You can go back to Lexington High year books at that time and can see pictures of the fans at Lexington holding up signs that said, "ball, you, man." It was a big deal and like the Big Guy likes to say, "unbelievable."

So I warn gorriladunkdayers everywhere, I cannot shut up during this segment, it was brutal to edit, anytime someone spoke I'd get louder and act a little crazy, but anyway I was pumped up. Life had been good and much of my happiness in a large way came from my dreams as a kid of starring at Lexington High, and the work it took to make it come possible. And this was yet another great weekend for the film crew. I mean we were 20-0, first seed in the tournament and had 300 hours of footage, we were psyched! And like I said just great to kick it with my guy, Coach Farias to cap the greatest regular season he'd ever coached, 20-0, all in including capturing best in show at the sickest holiday tournament in New England, beating both Cambridge and then Wilbur Cross (deep history to match Cambridge and Lexington) and then we knew, this was a special team. And then he got his 500th too.

Incidentally the starting five that year were all seniors, and three of their parents had grown up in Lexington and were high school sweethearts. More than anything this program for us always meant we belonged to something every other kid at Hayden wanted just as bad, but not really. And for the record, the loss is the towns but it's also ours, Coach Sullivan rightfully would've returned home after Bob's shameful dismissal had he not known the dysfunction of Lexington school system. It's a joke.

Bob much like his old buddy Skip Karem (who won 3 state titles and 600 games at Bob's ala mata Durfee) spent the entire season fighting the school, they never made any thing easy, and they gave no respect. And it almost at one point turned me back into the old me, that had to be the day we were filming the kids in school when it was announced that chants, including na na na na hey hey good by, scoreboard and the always classic, undefeated, were now banned. And then Keebs had told me Framingham schools had banned tag last year and this was normal shit that happens in schools these days

And as for the hoops program? It flopped last year with great talent. No Big Guy no league title despite the must height in the league which is something you can't teach.

Side Note. Fall River Dreams came out when I was in ACE, (Chris Herren, Durfee high , soon to be a 30 for 30) early 90's, we all read it. All meaning the coaches and me. I remember reading it and being excited to learn more about where Bob had grown up. Chris Herren was a national sensation, and I remember we played Cambridge at a jamboree in Fall River at Durfee, Chris's senior year, Durfee is the father program in some ways of what Lexington eventually would become. And they had their on radio station and would place three thousand people at their home games as opposed to the 1200 sold out the old gym in Lexington.

We have great footage watching him read a couple of pages after I just by chance happened to bring it in one Sat AM practice.

I will say the kids in this group, on this team were dynamite. And they never did anything ever to jepordize their perfect season. And I was blown away by their composure and team respect. Like I said after all of these years and titles the program like a great company just ran itself. And having selfless kids was a lucky break for any coach. Coach Farias could just sit and watch, it's a great business lesson as well to any budding business directors, about creating a system, and what that takes and entails, anyway, enough! peep all star weekend 2006-7, peace

My Great Movie II. Sat Practice, priceless Matty Langone Footage.




In today's Blog, well this was really something I put together for Tina, Phil and the Big Guy. Matty was taken much too early, this footage reminds us of the Justin beieber movie, clips of him hooping it up, he even looks like the Bieb. And it's obvious the kid has skills, Matty dons his favorite Paul Pierce jersey in today's episode. Anyway after watching it several times and crying outloud maybe just as many times I wanted to share it with my gorriladunk community, we've passed 1,000 views for the month, so I'm a keep posting and I thank every reader / viewer out there.

The good news is we have footage to post for three lifetimes, but relatively soon we should have a private promo DVD, seeking to attract a handful of investors to help us finish this thing (Where the defense began, Lexington Basketball, a documentary), we still need Ronnie Lee interview, and we still need Rollie down in Florida and maybe Skippy Karem probably the Middelton's + Lloyd.

I also look forward to sharing some of the super bowl stuff with you guys, you'll flip, we have hours of footasge with Big Ben in the boys after their miraculous win down there in Tampa bay a fwe years back.

In closing, I'll be posting a new METCO story tomorrow about a huge inspiration in my life to keep writing, working, loving, healing and growing, the Black Knight, aka keith Bodden, a METCO love letter, what a story he has, what a story he told me yesterday, more to come tomorrow. But for now check out this angel, Matty Langone and please friend friendsformatty on face book if you haven't yet, http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Friends-For-Matty-Foundation-Inc/178279153465

Happy Tuesday, go get it,

Monday, August 15, 2011

J. Wig drives by Heinz Field for the first time in Pittsburgh en route to a Super Bowl championship




Happy Monday, and sorry for the late post. This is candid footage of Justin Hartwig, J. Wig driving his truck from Carolina after he had been released from Carolina before deciding to sign with the Steelers over the Chief's, Miami, Oakland just to name a few had courted him heavily.

This is the project we did after the basketball, so just a small teasing clip, this is him pulling into Pittsburgh for the first time, we filmed J. Wig close to 200 hours over a three year period. He chose Pittsburgh for less money than he could of got because Mike Tomlin said every year they have high super bowl expectations in Pittsburgh, and he was right, and Wig went on to capture a Super Bowl ring and we filmed the whole god dam thing, holla - his shit is immense, what a story

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Last Game of the Year, 2006-07, Where the Defense Began (excerpt) , pre ...

Trick Puppies with White Mama cont..



trick Puppies kicken it with mom dukes, cont..

Puppy Cam , Trick Babies (true story!) Happy Sunday, stay in bed




Here at gorilla dunk we received a story last Thanksgiving about a blonde Lassie Lab giving birth to five black baby puppies. Being a trick baby myself we had to go to an Estancia (ranch in Argentina) an hour outside of Buenoes Aires, had to believe it to see it,ourselves and we did! Happy Sunday people, think puppies, god bless lazy Sunday mornings in America, Charlie Paradise signing off on a Sunday. Here at gorilladunk we follow a few simple mantra's, music, sports, charity, writing it all down and of course puppies, politics we dabble, but puppies are a cornerstone of everything we do here

Friday, August 12, 2011

Review Of The Retar (album #3 Blood, Sweat and Tars) can be downloaded for free at www.theretarcrew.com

Blood, Sweat and Tars.
Charlie Paradise writing for Gorriladunkdaily

Album Review. The Retar Crew was back this summer with their third full LP release, this is our review.

The album punches you right in the face out of the gates, in a good way.

Everything’s Going to be all Right, a great check.

This writer however was hoping that we had a jazzy JQ intro where we learned what our hero’s had been up to during the last year since the release of 2010’s dance infused winter smash, Return of the Retar. Namely escaping the frozen tundra of Febuary in Chicago for the sands of Australia, dam, I love the first track. They were down under forever than up in London for a long time, as long as I was away when all that shit happened. And they drop back and deliver an eighty yard spiral touchdown splash with their third LP, in less than three years. And this on top of endless sketches, the you tube now giants, back from a world tour with a new play, my I present to you my review if I may be so formal of the mutha fucken retar crew back and on top aptly named, Blood, Sweat and Tars, their 3rd studio effort I'am Charlie Paradise and this is my review.



21 Jump Street! Track 1.
Now everyone in your best Chicago or Boston scream, "guy!" And guy track #1 is a blazing, Cajun opening day and no it's not rainen, get out of bed track. JQ reached back into his feel good playbook with a beat sure to put a smile on even the most disheartened terrorists. He samples something out of the Platters realm to give a Motown gloss to the third albums inaugural track, it shiners, think Cape Canaveral. This is why I love covering them, I'm a Sat morning type of reporter.

JQ takes the lead and rips what amounts to a love letter to his real girlfriend, brunch. It had for many years been reported in the press of JQ's decadent ordering and performances at brunches around the globe. His opening line of ordering water, bloody, Guinness, OJ and a coke too can’t help but provoke happy drunken undertones. JQ let’s us know, “no guilt no pain we be living like that.” JQ raps with a swagger that you believe him when he orders this for his drink selection at a brunch with his rock star buddies after ripping a show the night before. And he walks us into the dancing chorus chopped to perfection. P.O. Pringle has a lot to follow up JQ and is the perfect punch and arguably the album’s biggest stand out. The rappers rapper, P.O. absolutely rips the lungs from this beat with a heavier verse whose more profound topics compliment the happy. Pos delves into personal bouts of racisms and religious underpinnings if you can figure out his first stanza and repeat it back you would’ve rapped with a great one. And in spite of it all and even in the face of death tomorrow, everything is all right.
Jackson’s voice soothes into a melodic third verse that seems to get more and more inspired as he spits away. And he ties it up in a way correct and speaks volumes to why I’ve been a adamant supporter of anything these Q brothers had created and built, part of that is finding kids like Jackson, they do it the right way.

Now to my pundits in Boston I don’t mean it like Trot Nixon plays the game the right way and Troy O’Leary doesn’t I’m just saying, “leading by example, chillen being me.” And it’s fantastic and an early antidote to the entire concept of Retar crew blatant honesty and self-depreciation in a billion-dollar genre that just doesn’t fuck with shit like that. And if you haven’t ever seen a live retar shop esp. in Chicago you need to go check out these drunken real life all-stars original music happening now.

And we got the jungle like hook comes smashing back on the grommets tip we have one tar left, the veteran, brother GQ. GQ from Hawaiaan Soapy fame takes it home blessing his own feel good album with his younger brother almost eight years ago. He quotes early “that it might be a classic” and reminds you that they are in first and didn’t test for placement, a cheer to SPED kids. GQ reminds us in that verse that he has and remains to date, the time of his life. Ever since he sold his first play where it all began, it’s always summer I've enjoyed the vicarious upside to the coverage of the Retar Crew. And this local reporter is just glad to be able to continue to witness and report it. And this song celebrates that on a grand scale but on a minor, it’s just another Sunday brunch with the Retar Crew good stuff happening in splits of atoms, throw in a beat box, a cipher just to light the energy of those around them, making a better champagne sampling and a great re cap.

After starting off the first CD with the first track the Retar Anthem, they needed to bring some sickness for the leadoff hitter on the song tip for this the 3rd CD joint. And they fucking nailed it. 5 stars.

#2 fuck all the Drama. This track almost gets five stars and stands out in a number of ways. The beat sets the tone for what’s an angered, information aged, media crazed emotional testament to all the earths drama these 2011 days. It's very straightforward in it’s title, fuck all the drama is the Retar’s lament of hitting that wall when you just don’t give a fuck at all, anymore, ever, again, done. And most of have been there; they even go so far to throw their own Chicago guy and US president Barack Obama under the bus, in the chorus. It also mentions Osama Bin Laden in the hook time and again and they released their you tube vid of fuck all the drama immediately after his capture and subsequent death, holla! The was a great moment, but white people were kind of forcing it in Georgetown that night on the Patriot’s three peat tip.
It was great timing, POS rips the leadoff after hitting second on the jump off track, and slaughterhouse 5’s this mutha fucka into the dirt. It’s topical, it’s brutally honest, and Pos demonstrates the command he had over these times and his gifted word play as he attacks the left, the right, even Hilary and Bill. Jackson on the second verse rips perhaps his best verse of his young white career. Personally he knocked out my former favorite verse of his prior on the we almost died joint. But we at gorrila dunk love the melding of politics and music, and the platform that can bring to deliver a message. A note from our sponsor sorry (National Geographic)

He stays with the theme of Pos, and the political just works here big time, he disses George W and Barrack in the same crafty sentence from in which his point about the system, these wars, campaign funds comes across poignat and without breaking a sweat, great video.
“where my friends and cousins blew up terrorists freaks” and once again his voice is fit for all slick transitions with all Retar’s. JQ, reminds as why he's in the hall of fame while going threw his own lists of fucks states and politely asks, “fuck running shoes, why they got to be so ugly?” In perfect rhyme and cadence, GQ takes it home going off tangent with putting fuck before any word that pops into his brain, it sounds more like a freestyle and slams it home.


#3 Robin the Cradle.
This is a track that leaves you once again scratching your heads saying, why are these guys not paid? They've been famous. I’ve contemplated this very question for the last fifteen years on the beat. The hook is original, applicable and hip-hop. Original yes by them and also because no one else has said the title catch phrase like that before and that’s hard to do. And beat, the beat, oh the beat, JQ rarely makes a whack 1. Throw in the Chicago modern day blues legend always in the back ground on alert five lacing that harmonica and bringing that bayou on the Chi tip for some new funk off their third joint, and it’s a warp speed wrap. If this were a label, it would be Johnny black baby. And of course the Retar’s love to remind you they've probably fucked more chicks than us aka slinky pieces of homework.

And JQ, probably the highest number in the click with everyone else tied for second laments honesty and passion for rules most men would dream to live by. And while the topic of pussy can get old in rap forums pretty quickly the fact remains these guys fuck allot of hot young girls, and have for many, many years. People want to hear that esp. Prince.

Flashback: I first met Pos back in 2001 when he had dreadlocks. Their first play Bombitty had been set up for a run in Chicago after winning best in show at an HBO sponsored comedy and their showcase in Aspen CO. They won, as always and a little girl said to her Ka-trillion dollar father who happened to be from Chicago, daddy buy them. And he did, and it was a great run and this reporter as always was there for opening night. I was fascinated by the after party and the dozens of girls surrounding them. I was curious who they'd pick, and how, what was the process? And I would ask G, J and Pos throughout the night who they thought they would make sweet love to later. They had so many choices it made for interesting observation, interesting writing. And it was an interesting exercise for me to try and make the market on who I believed the strongest candidates were. And these weren’t hoody rap chicks, which I adore rather robin the cradle girls with big educations and bank accounts, what a market. And their responses were hilarious. While JQ and Pos became almost philosophical in their sharing and discussion of this topic, which through the night was at the forefront of their minds, they had a pretty good idea. And they enjoyed swapping idea’s, information and girls for that matter.

And anytime they found a girl trying to play hard to get it was over she was the 1. Now GQ would famously tell gorriladunkdaily that night, “Which ever one is last standing Mr. Paradise, you know there when I’m about to pass out. So basically I have no idea” What a smile! But it was fun sex, no strings attached or rarely and even if they were these are the only guys (and it only gets more sick when years later Jackson and a huge draft pick for the family only makes it worse, I think I might have slept with him covering Funk it Up the 3rd time around) I’ve ever covered in 15 years that have ex girlfriends, one stands, threesomes, 4 someone’s you name it, they all come back. And it’s the weirdest thing for anyone that first gets to know them.
But if you were new to the party you would have no idea know unless someone told you. And I often did, I liked to see their shock especially girls, and guys too I guess, I guess the shock was gender neutral. People can’t fathom 30 ex girlfriends coming to the show and the after party to get wasted and celebrate all together under the same roof, at the same bar, years later, months, days, hours ago whatever.
And for all of these too few mentioned reasons Robin the Cradle gets it done, and it’s a great flip of the cliche especially these days. I guarantee I could go under cover reporter in G.W. , Georgetown, American U. you name it, easy to find firework slinky’s that would perform anything to be laced proper, no problem, thankfully retar’s don’t have to pay for sex and never have (rule #6 Retar). This is a great track.

It’s a strong opening three. And the sets continue to flourish slashing back and forth from boiling points to parody infused by the forever infectious JQ’s sizzling touch and ear for head bobbing dope beats. The album continues with track #4 It Taste Good.
Now this could be their anthem, drinks are the staple motif of this crews entire tar philosophy. And to go further they don’t rap. And for the heads of hip hop out there this might not be your favorite retar track. Monster will love it. I love it. How could I not? JQ takes the leadoff and this song, well, makes you feel good something this crew maintains a patent on. A happy patent. The deviation from rap shows once again the multitude of talents the quartet is capable of when voltroned. It makes them even more difficult to ever type cast, never! I can hear a Retar battle cry.
And from the feel good to waste less, the Retar crew seems to becoming more musical the further they get away from their classic track that kicked this whole trip off, the Retar Anthem. And this is a rap, and JQ drops the dark beat as the Retar’s air out their continued frustrations with still being broke and now realizing, hmm, might always be, this fans, could be a breaking point. And it must be frustrating but somehow they always keep it going and the die-hard fans out there are grateful. The Q brothers book end this track and GQ comes out of the gates at Wonderland and just smashes his verse into a million little pieces. It’s him at his best walking you through exactly what’s happened, happening in his life, and we sit and listen and ponder where this roller coaster was heading this time. Honest rappers which in addition to the drunk play are guiding, fundamental motifs of their retar concept.

Overall the listener gets the impression that Jackson and GQ really stepped up their rhyme game to new heights on this record. Pos who I’ve always referred to as a rappers rapper and once you figure out what he’s saying (that’s a test tar tar USA!) it’s wonderful, and he goes hard as always. JQ of course I long ago wrote after hearing his B-Boy track and live beat box on a street corner in Manhattan is in my top three behind Pac and Biggie. The elevation of Jackson and G make the joints on this album jump off on all cylinders. The result is their most musical album to date.

The next track they got back to singing on a mystical JQ beat, this is their talking heads track, nuff said. To have a track on this album categorized as Talking Heads and winning by all accounts is no small honor. Again this shows the continued experimentation and development as the Tar’s rip through their third full length LP. And surprisingly the group might want to lean even more in this direction as Pos is the perfect lead off man in this set. Coming with the charisma and confidence in which the pussy gets swept away again he flexes his considerable vocal skills and sets this track off like dynamite. I would love to see them retar Mo town tracks, sing and rap like New Edition ,it’s clear they can sing with range when they feel like it. JQ takes us through Audrey Horn and brings to life the meaning of this tribute to talking heads and what it means. And they all do, and I think for the open-minded this might be something people look more from them down the road. I know Monster will.

It’ll be interesting to see if these all in singing tracks under perform the YouTube hits the traditional tar album stuff nets.
Promise Me. Switches back to the darker undertones of the philosophical stripe. JQ jumps the lead again here and lays down such hard working classics like, “no connection to the earth like a potted plant.” I like the voice sample in the chorus and the scratchy way it’s presented. Jackson and GQ continue their ascent on this LP thus making the full representation in conjunction with their most musical effort to date viable on what I feel is a large commercial level.
And speaking of feel good the album pays homage to their feel good sub roots with track #10, what I’m. And this line up continues to be meddled with as the music is changed, dabbled and waggled in tight beats and creative minds. I think this is a recipe these chefs designed to appeal to the mature musical pallet. Here we have JQ singing a thunderous and emotional statement about himself, and the remaining three Tars spitting verses minus JQ who only commands the chorus. And this is the Sat AM flapjacks where gonna stop smoken crack joint. And as a writer I can say it’s a solid addition to what many are already saying is their best effort yet. And by solid I mean it's my favorite track. Jacks shouts out Them vs. Them cracking inspiration imagining his dreams in pursuit while for the record Pos shout's out "IG" (the extradionary organ player, song writer from Oh MY God and Them vs. Them) and he might do it twice

Of course the last two tracks remind everyone who we're dealing with when they touch on the always comical mom fuck with the young son, and place the hidden Tar Tar big dink track about an infant boy blessed with an incredibly long hammer head hidden in the back. And that ties it all down. Again a little bit of everything, I urge fans to download the always-free Retar material (smoke up Johnny!) and give proper seating and respect to the odor I mean the order the artists intentionally placed these tracks in.

This is Burt Heely saying….. (your never fully dressed without a smile) a theatre shout out for the stage ninjas.

And please check these cats out if your in Chicago in August. I was front stage at their Valentines Show and was fucking blown away they are better live.

For questions or suggestions I can be reached at www.gorrilladunkdaily.blogspot.com

or c-ratwrites@gmail.com



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c rat dreaming / link to the Blog from 06-7 for the loyalists



http://www.myspace.com/cratdreaming/blog

Big shout to Alex Olsen and Feffy . Mr. Alex Olsen my swedish brother, one of my oldest and earliest gorrilla readers, thanks for the love and support homy, I paid it forward with Dylan and them cats, passed down to ya'll boys and shown love right back, all the way around, full circle, and that's how we do it.

"No guilt, no pain we be liven like that." JQ -

Note: There is a ton of old blogs re; same shit, life, projects, the book, two films and charity I've been involved with here seemingly forever. At some point you figure I'll finsih 1 of the 3 biggies before death. Anyway , making everything I have availible, i forgot about them myspace days which had video conferencing back in 2005 BTW! Remember that was Zuckenberg's "BIG" announcement last month? Big deal, myspace had that shit years ago, goes to show you that you have to be prepared, smart, focused and lucky. And on top of that your timing has to be perfect, not too soon or too late on top of the idea, plan, capital and implamentation, perfect. Anyway happy Friday ya'll, keep b -a-a-a-a-a-a-a ng - ing.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Scratch + Burn - Driving Instructor



To the Fam, this is JQ, (look how young he looks!) 22 years old after he dropped out of NYC music after his brother wrote the international smash the bombitty of errors. JQ dropped out of college and they all got movie deals. The cast went to Hollywood and JQ stayed back becoming the janitor in the theatre (45 Bleeker St.) that put them on the map, true story. And then they performed live in a Gatsby back yard off Long island sound for a group of MTV executives who green lighted 4 episodes of an original show first called "blunt" which renamed due to exiting copyright, "scratch and Burn." Jeffey's older brother GQ (the white nigga from drumline) came up with the title. I thought they should've called it straight from the fridge. I remember Jeffey calling me from the limo MTV provided after their private performance back into the city.

A month later MTV fully greenlighted their own show and Jeffy was whisked away from the Alaphabet city in the east Village to Hollywood.

They wrote, tarred and JQ made the beats. This was the first segment of the first show, 2002, MTV, Sat night , 10 PM, it was a program called the hook hosted by none other than Justin Timberlake who had met GQ on tour in Vegas after he filmed a huge role in the n sync movie on the line shot in, to make it perfect, Chicago, G's home town. When the credits roll he's standing next to Al Green in front of a Ferris Beueller set in the front of Wrigley Field singing let's stay together, and G, right next to Al Green busts a ryhme summarizing the movie in front of thousands of heads.

Here's a the beg. check out G playing the drums with Lance Bass in 2000 before 9/11 before the internet bubble popped getting PAID.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYiei-iRWKg&feature=related

I'll never forget when the N Sync boys stiffed Pete-Nice on a bar bill in Chicago, pretty funny, I explained back in 2000, they probably just assumed it was taken care of.

Anyway the jigga man and I would always host Sat. night Scratch and Burn parties at the Meridian. And I felt like janet Jackson watching her brothers cartoon on Sat AM, what a memory. I simply couldn't believe my best friends had their own TV show rapping about kids shit on national TV. And between the four of these chaps featured in this and every skit they ever did, they have between them close to 20 major motion pictures under their belt.

And MTV watered them down big time, big time. And we had 20 people over that first night to watch this, what in our lives. I was psyched, I remember seeing JQ featured in the first skit and I went bizerk. He was just the DJ in the hit play, and he was left behind while they shined and he cleaned floors making B-Boy tracks. So, it was great to see my fucking guy clawing himself into the talented line up, and from there it's never ever stopped.

London Bridge is buring! A better world and Matty Langone

Thursday

Happy Thursday my gorilla’s! It’s 6AM up in here and we’re going to sew this one up today tight, why? Because it’s Thursday! The slope of the week is in our favor like forward points you keep on a big contract with a naive client. Finance sucks for the record, and my favorite Tupac quote of all time for the record is, “I never had a police record until I made my first record.”

The trappings of fame, of course I’ve been famous in my own mind since I first met Larry Bird in the emergency room as a kid. Larry Bird was not known around Boston as being a nice guy. OK, today I’d like to dish on London, the mighty London, father of capitalism way before the US geared up it’s own banking system on the we’re even further west than you guys dawg. I actually got in a bit of a verbal scrap with the summer crush the other day reflecting on what was happening in London. At first glance it’s awful, who would do that, riot’s, kids, burning storefront punks. But the more I read, the more I actually started getting behind these kids from the slums of London,
What was interesting, to me, was that no one could really point their finger as to why? And this wasn’t Jihad, and this wasn’t so much a Rodney King, LA situation or was it? Yes, the acquittal of officers Lawrence Powell and I can’t remember them other cats names was the straw that broke Mr. Ed’s back so to speak. Have you ever watched Mr. ED? (ADD) This was a great TV choice for my father as a kid parallel to the great space coaster for moi.
Anyway people used to call black people lazy in America, and I tell you this, you try walking 35 city blocks with twin leather couches from downtown Watts back to your crib, and then going back for matching end tables? Lazy, playoff’s? I think not. You have to kidding me, that’s hard work! And in any event, and on the underdog theme, London and almost all of Europe for that matter has to deal with their own class struggle and maybe just maybe take a look at the social design of the whole system. Once again you go back to America, and even though the game is rigged, you can still be, what the fuck, you know what I mean.

Big Shout’s to Bradley Ward, a devoted gorilla dunk reader, Brad is a curious case like Benjamin button, I think he might be aging backwards ala Doug Scott in Lexington ala Tupac, which is a good thing for me on the happy hour tip. Also big shout’s to Pete Nice, yes dude we can do the Yankee’s first week in Sep up in the Bronx. My new company Commonwealth Foreign Exchange has an old BOA space in Times Square which means your boy can work up there anytime I feel I got some client visits to knock out as well. MY former employee were such amazing sales people they never in ten years authorized one client visit, amazing + it’s real money, and oh shit that cash makes you act a fool! And when it comes easy, and your timings right, boom! You begin to change, and it’s sadly, cliché and never fails. Money heightens the perception of your own importance.
And lack there of does the same thing just in reverse, and it’s crazy that the writers and police of London had a hard time figuring out just what this was in response too. Some hinted at a police killing of a minority in a slum area, OK, so there you go. There’s the Rodney King acquittal. Police brutality in a countries slums is always a trigger for possible riots, it’s like my gout flare up’s, it happens when I overdue it on the drinking, crabs, etc. There comes a tipping point. Same thing with the police brutality, there is an event which proves to be a tipping point, and you snap. We saw The Help last night, instant classic, wonderful novel, amazing movie albeit, long. But down there in racist ass Mississippi in the 60’s, they too would riot when one of their own was taking in the struggle. And in this case it was no hoodlum but a civil rights leader taking out by a sniper in the clan. And I’ll say this about the sixties in conjunction with this thread and after watching a 3 hour interview, just filmed, Nat Geo to air in September with the famed historian Henry Kissinger, it made me feel a whole lot better about out problems in the 21st. Stress levels and panic were at premiums kids today could never siphon off to understand. And casualties, cost and potential nuclear conflict were much closer to the brink then we are today. You see the number of casualties and the scope of sacrifice to accomplish your end wartime means, it’s crazy and that number gets lower and lower every war every year every century and that’s comforting to a wiger like me.

Now you knew you were a METCO student if the first time you heard the term wiger you knew it was wrong. Wow did those hockey players love saying it, with a full dip in a tough Boston accent. I love Boston. I can’t seem to shake face book, and the convo, you knew you were a METCO student if… is amazing! MY favorites to date was my own, “you hit the deck if a door slammed loudly.” And then one cat early posted you could stay at their house anytime or as much as you wanted, but as soon as you asked them to stay at your house in the city things got awkward. Hahahaha, what a great program that METCO is, and I’m so happy to report we’re days away from cutting the program yet another check from our fundraising efforts. The programs benefits are crystal clear to me. And shout out to the Lexington Minutemen for their press today covering our bustling YG Foundation.

And so anyway, just to reel it back my faithful following of Fudrucking eating lunch boxes  The Arab spring somehow has leaked into the United Kingdom. And it’s fair to say studying the history of that little island in college, that most of the worlds ill’s came from the imperialism of the white man stemming from the royals on our best friends island there across the pond. And that was a long time ago, and I don’t live in the past but we always must try and learn from it. And I’m behind these kids rioting, yes, I said it, sorry store shop owners, I mean they have insurance in London right? Anemic economic times really spotlight disparities between the have’s and the have not’s every time. And for the neighborhoods where this thing began to crest, unemployment is way over 10%, their few programs have been cut and kids like the US in the 60’s had, well, had enough. Fuck that, I have to watch this royal wedding and you cut back my recreation center, closed the shit? And maybe it’s much more basic than that or maybe like usual I’m completely fucking wrong typing away hazardously in my own fog. Or maybe this socialists are just peering into the beg. Certainly as this economic crisis continues to unfold, and banks continue to disclose their retardation and austerity measures are implanted again and again to stem the tide of economic failure, this is just the beg.

Like I mentioned the other day, it’s half of the great depression for the US, and as the stock market tanks, I advise you to buy into your 401K, if you’re my age a crash is good, buy on the dips every week or two or month. And scrape up the bargains, in 30 years you’ll be glad you did, I think. I mean the fact that the homeboy Monster was working on the floor of the NYSE in 1999 when it first eclipsed 10,000 and we are now facing that as a huge downside technical level makes you think, WTF or where thee fuck do I put my money? I mean if we get back down towards 10 G’s, where talking 11 years with no growth in stocks, baby boomers! Your cavity is about to get stretched.

And I think Paris uprising is next, talk about an unfair system if you’re say, Muslim in the slums of the charming Paris. Ask a family man in Paris that has a flat in the city, house in the burbs and mansion on the south tip of the coast what he does and you will never get a straight answer.
The Swiss France the safe heaven in all of heaven is trading close to a record high against the USD, sucks for my client’s buying Swiss, these are trying times, but take solace my brothers in knowing the stress threshold and panic level of the world today is nowhere near where it has been traditionally throughout times stressful corridors, esp. 1968
And lastly I want to again touch on the firing of the Big Guy at Lexington high school almost three years ago with an 80% career winning percentage over 35 years, believe me it’s not the water in the town, that only makes kids crazy and spawns accidents, doesn’t equate to hoops talent. But I’ve been putting together some footage of his late grandson Matty Langone who was diagnosed with a bone cancer, I think it was bone cancer, but in any event, he caught that rare .001 % and god put him upstairs in kid heaven. And they fired him one season after his death rattled his world and those closest to him most notably his siblings and parents and of course his grandfather, my guy, the Big Guy.
And it just gets me incensed, and once again I get overtly involved with something that doesn’t have anything to do with me. But this isn’t aggression at a rude person at the airport or some drunk dropping N bombs, this one pains my soul. This is a man that got me out of high school, I know so many back in the day would’ve loved to seen me get stuck in that bitch on the #3 tip can I help you behind the counter tip. What joy the nay sayers could bask in seeing me back their, stuck in the town I grew up in, apron on, it would’ve been a big I told you so to the ruling elite and established order I’m always ready to shake up on the Cars tip.
A child dies at before a seventh birthday I barely reached myself. But so many don’t have any experience with that, and this kid, this kid, was an angel. It’s been a difficult task finding the footage, a needle in the 400 hour haystack of footage we compiled during the 06-07 tip. And I was looking for some assistance to help as I’m not the technological guru you might expect, and there was none, people are busy they have their own lives and like Sonny from the Bronx Tale might say, no one cares. No one fucking cares, but like C might say at the end kneeling at his casket, you might be wrong about that.

And not only was little Matty a model kid, with cereal box good looks he also loved Lexington basketball. And the footage we have proves him to be a very thoughtful child. It also shows what a hoops game he already had. When I attended his wake (choked up, pause) Coach Farias had spotted me back from DC once again at the Douglass funeral home, he came over and lost it a little bit telling us he wanted the casket to be open, he still looked good, Cancer hadn’t ruined his beauty. He was buried in his favorite Paul Pierce Celtics jersey and he like his grandafather and pops (much love Philly) was tough. Cancer hadn’t ravaged him to the point of a blister in the sun.

I’d heard he kept a picture of the Big Guy under his pillow in the emergency room at the hospital, and it’s that singular visual more than anything else that repels any ears for any side of this argument as it pertains to his dismissal from Lexington High School.

And for me it goes back to something I said earlier, money heightens the sense of your own importance in your own eyes. And it desensitizes your heart, makes you colder to the worlds ills. As the wealthier you get the lesser amount of rules apply to you anyway. And these people were cold, and ruthless, led by parents of idiot sons who for years had complained at their sons indigestion of not making varsity. Lexington High school basketball was 1 thing you see they couldn’t buy. And maybe I was born with a big heart, as a tear trickles down my check even now *(pause). I’ll always, in my own life go back to Children’s Hospital and Easter Seals, Uncle Clayt, charity, dying kids, what a perspective I gained from my own handi cap and the 6 year old next to me he said he’d never again walk, and that I was lucky, holy shit.
It’s fucked up and happens, and how do you tell that little guy, that angel, how do you explain what’s happening to him and how do you quantify any of it in your own world, job, family and life?
I don’t know, but I do look forward to posting some footage with the families consent of young Matty dribbling away, diving around the gym and cleaning up after his older brother and sister water spills on the sacred LHS hoops gym floor. Of course no post would be complete without a silver lining, and that’s you, my readers. JQ once said, “God bless any fan that I might find, I hope you like me for my stand up and fight rhymes cause I’m a poet with a chance of a lifetime.” And in that vein, I’ve attached a link to a must read review of my boys holding down the good vibes and Karma at Lalalpooloza again this summer in their native home of Chicago, http://timeoutchicagokids.com/arts-entertainment/movies-music-stage/54029/q-brothers-live-review
Because there is so much good out there and life really is amazing. We have our health, jobs and for a few fleeting men in America, even though this number is alarmingly low, have are dicks in tact.
The dog days of summer, with fall’s calming charm a month away, and football! And back to school, sweaters and college football, power rankings! Betting and the blues, Walt Disney knew you can’t have the happy without the sad, love those guys. And I love you all, Mr. C-rat Easton aka the Dream (thanks Coach Farias for the best nickname ever, even if it started out as the nightmare) everyone have a great day, the world is your Oyster! And it’s up to you to use the write fork (get it? I don’t, does the Pope shit in the woods?)
Peace. (before the METCO program I said by-by)
CE






Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Mendoza, Argentenia pool side 11/05/2010 / kicken it with summer before dinner at the Q grill (lamb chops!) , 1st freestyle in south America.

Justin Hartwig story (pre Steelers - pre SuperBowl)

Center’d


The first time that I met Justin Hartwig was in the spring of two-thousand six. His best friend from high school and proclaimed “blood brother” had been recording music for an acoustic hip hop group I helped found in Washington DC, www.myspace.com/something2ponder

Through our mutual affinity for all things hip hop, crazy beats and ripe entrepreneurial genes we’d become fast friends. I remember it was the first day (Saturday) day of the 2006 NFL draft, Ujival a massive six five Indian from Iowa had mentioned he had a friend in the NFL arriving in town Friday staying through the weekend.

“You want to meet the starting center for the caROLINA Panthers?” Ujival carried a natural excitement for many things evidently his childhood best friend now starting in the NFL was no exception.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Come over!” That day you see my roommate and I happened to be having an NFL draft party at our self proclaimed apartment known only as the sky bar. Ujival again was tickled with excitement from the suggestion of an NFL draft party he could roll through with Justin Hartwig, “yeah Eastide, whose going to be there?” I humbly admitted, “just us and Budweiser, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a party.”

And so it began.

The first time I saw Justin Hartwig he carried the surreal glow of anyone that size looking down on a world he’d outworked. He donned a Ride Inc tailor made T, baggy shorts and brand new air force ones emblazoned with J. Wig on the back. My first thought of course was,

This guy could kill my entire family with one hand

And my second thought,

be cool!

Followed finally by,

I’m so lame

All in a matter of three seconds. “Eastide!” Ujival proclaimed loudly his own nickname he’d come up with for me, excited for the days events.

I jumped into his arms. After being placed back on my own two, “Yo, this is Justin East.”

“Nice to meet you man, heard allot about you.”

“nice to meet you, heard allot about you too.” I froze. I was expecting him to sound like Randy mach man Savage but instead he sounded like a smoothed out pilot gliding at 25 thousand feet like it was Monday.

He was six five, three hundred pounds and at twenty seven in the very prime of his career.

That afternoon he’d be the ultimate in cool, pounding beers he allowed me to be the little kid I have trouble straying from and ask an assortment of questions in conjunction with a hundred inquiries to his life, career and what it was like playing football in the fucking national Football League.

“That was crazy.” I’d tell my roommate (also named Justin) after they had finally left, properly marinated, a half dozen hours later. For myself and my sports crazed roommate also from Boston, we called all of our boys back home and afar and told of our endeavor simultaneously updating our myspace and Face Book accounts.

We just watched the NFL draft at our apartment with the starting center of the Carolina Panthers, we sat drinking Bud’s with him when they drafted a running back in the first round, he was jacked and I ran into a wall headfirst. Partly out of effect, partly out of a never ending need for attention but mostly I was pumped that Justin was pumped. A running back! At least it wasn’t a center right? He’d break down the team, it’s needs, strengths, management And weaknesses. In the American era of fantasy football my roommate Justin sat taking NOTES as my ADD vanished.

This dude was the shit.

“Peace.” And so it began


===============================================================

During my afternoon with Justin Hartwig we had discussed many things and within the vortex of our conversations I had mentioned the project I would begin that winter shooting, my first fray into the documentary film making world and the material was my renowned high school basketball program. A program that gave me confidence, I wouldn’t soon forget, this project was evident. Ujival who through our traverses now worked at the same brokerage firm as me, the next day we had lunch. I was psyched when he said, “Justin really liked you man, he said you were entertaining.” A got a semi, before he added, “He mentioned a bunch of times how cool it was that you were doing a documentary on your high school basketball program.” I went full wood. Through the world of myspace and the internet I’d stay in loose touch with Justin Hartwig. The fall was fast approaching and soon he’d be “in season.” I thought I wouldn’t see him for at least another year, and then as life’s twists and turns would dictate, he was back in Arlington Virginia for dinner with us. The entire time between then and the draft party at our apartment I’d become fascinated with Justin Hartwig, his tone was so unassuming, his vocabulary rock solid, his insight, professional and uncanny, he had basically ripped the seams off what NFL linemen were really like? The wheels were turning. It seemed to me, my stereotype was based on division three linemen in Milton MA eating light bulb’s on a dare after suffering a 53-goose egg knock out, not the grounded demeanor of the great NFL linemen. I began to think how little I knew about the offensive line, the guts and trenches of a sport famous for its barbarian traits and self sacrifice.

These were the guys.

Ujival like Nick from Gatsby would narrate and answer all of my questions, then and now, and it sprinted away with itself, Justin was not all state, Justin was not offered D1 scholarships in his home state, he was a true underdog.

Such a nice kid.

By the time the fourth week of the 2006 NFL season was underway circumstances had changed drastically from the cherry filled optimism he carried with him into the sky bar that day. On that day the ink was barely dry on Justin‘s twenty two million dollar deal orchestrated by none other than Drew Rosenhaus. He’d left the TN Titans where he’d made his mark snapping four consecutive seasons for all pro Steve Mcnair. (go through what happened with the Titans, the whole story, similar to ultimate left guard)

The story tells itself, an only child growing up in middle of the roads America with two hard working parents. His dad, a former college football player who once had a invitation as a player to Vikings training camp shared a simple truth. He bought him a bench press. And much like Dr. Dre’s mother at thirteen buying him turntables, it was a sacrifice, weight sets like turntables were expensive. But Craig saw this as an investment, I’m sure the latter aforementioned parent believed as such.
He put it in the garage and in plain English shared his best lesson he learned from the success of his playing days.. Hard work, a timeless and very American antidote that pervades all walks of profession makes the difference. Far from the NFL Craig pointed to the newly purchased bench and free weights and asked , “do you want to pay for college.” I’m sure he mentioned the expense. I’m sure he mentioned money unfortunately, money made the world money go round and this was a way to help make things easier.

Craig would be a powerful ally guide and fan to his ambitious son. Justin played every sport every season, his father had always been his biggest fan. He attended every game he ever played whether it was little league, youth basketball or pop Warner football. He would work out and together I’d imagine over those many years would discuss and dissect the fine points in the art of run blocking verse zone blocking. The game, the wear, tear, helpful tid bits and I’m sure amazing dad stories to his young son over things he had witnessed formulated his young football education. He played big time high school Iowa football. America’s meat packing district for large milk drinking farm boys that for years have a hallowed place in the O lines of such mid west factories like run happy Nebraska, Oklahoma and of course Iowa. Justin’s high school team would compete annually for state title’s and highest honors but never in his time did they capture their pre season goal, they had always fallen short.

Years later the high school would go on a state title rampage and become unquestionably the states leading power house for a class D. high school football. Success had a way of following Justin every place he left.

In his senior year he’d fall short of all state honors. And now as a senior, a senior that had paid the price, worked as hard as he possibly could, the scholarship offers were just not there. His biggest fan and also dad tells the story of waking up at thre AM to be at the Des Moines paper’s headquarters to get the first batch of daily papers hot off the press. He’d anticipated that his son Justin was a no brainer first team, having started for three years at one of the states best programs. But he had been overlooked, and with the that, state colleges Iowa and Iowa state turned their back on him. A natural dream of putting those hours in the weight room was for someday to play for Iowa, the buckeyes, your home state, Be like Bobby from can’t buy me love, the college football star at Iowa playing out his dreams..

He received mail from Division two schools, but did have a d1 lifeline in the form of Northern Iowa. A smaller D1 program where Kurt Warner played in did stuff of local legend. Those coaches at Northern Iowa had seen the potential in Justin. And when the Northern Iowa guys jumped to Kansas Justin’s senior year, they came out of nowhere and made the offer. Justin signed. D1, next state over, he had made it.

JayHawks!

Well Justin had played at Kansas during some of the more storied basketball seasons in Jayhawks folklore unfortunately the same couldn’t be said of his football days there. Justin had red shirted, playing five years for mostly five hundred football teams. He like many college graduates has great pride for his school and the time he spent there. His teammates from college appear in our footage several TIMES, AND AS SPORT SHOULD ESPECIALLY ON THE COILLIEGATE LEVEL INSPIRE LIFE LONG FRIENDSHIPS.
All his
As a college basketball player (D3 Curry College) and football fan it was amazing for me to see his college helmet and Jayhawk emblem in his game room the first time I visited him in Carolina. Kansas! It’s Big 12 and so many never even make it to a small college level.

Justin’s story before the NFL going way back, a poignant piece of the story has to do with the father / son element. One thing that comes across with Justin as you meet, see and watch the footage is this idea of good mid west values. He’s not going to pay eight hundred dollars for sunglasses, which he didn’t in LA, even as his best friend in the NFL Jacob Bell paid $1200. He just couldn’t do it, he was always the underdog and hard worker, through his hard work and upbringing he has a real sense of value. On a very human level, Wig didn’t come from a ton of money, he grew up, and wasn’t a rich kid, wasn’t the most popular, wasn’t some athlete with god given talent that the world bows down to, no, no, no, far from it. His friends, we’re a but goofy, Justin was never the main stream, good-looking pussy crushing beast we know today.

Justin’s story in football starts with his father Craig. Craig was from MN, where he met his wife and Justin’s mother Lori. Craig worked hard, and passed that on to his son. Craig’s father was an abusive alcoholic and often strike his mother. Craig worked hard, he played his way to a football scholarship, it wasn’t big time college football but he did have a try out with the Vikings, who ultimately cut him.

He settled in Iowa, married Lori, and they gave birth to Justin. Talk about dreams of your father. Craig was a sales man, Justin an only child and I’m not quite sure what the mom did, just know that she as well would battle the bottle, causing in the separation from Craig and fueling some major beef from Justin for quite sometime, culminating in Justin, after he had made it to the NFL, that he would have to walk away from her if she couldn’t shake the suds. Lori shared this with me on the sprawling deck of Justin’s colossal mansion in Piper Glenn Carolina after striking it rich via Drew Rosenhaus putting together another monster deal for his client who’d jettisoned from Tennessee Titans where he first made a name for himself in the “league.”

I didn’t film this conversation, but it was poignant in nature as the mom sucked down cigarettes explaining how Justin had essentially saved her, even being so many years her younger. She has remained sober, re-married and is now content to chain smoke.

Invariably growing up Justin as an only child received much attention from both of his parents. Craig especially, he never missed one game, little league, basketball and of course football where his was a zealot when it came to Justin’s career but did it was tact, was as supportive as a dad could be without being crazy, without pu8nching out other parents without the equation of your sons sports career making you nuts and doling out added pressure making your dreams deferred your lot manifest to your son. It happens all the time but that wasn’t Craig.

Where it all started. 9th Grade. The summer before Justin’s first year in high school, west des Moines, big time high school football in Iowa. Craig had saved enough pennies to buy Justin his own weight set, and throughout stories as such weather it’s Dr Dre’s mother buying him a turn table in his early teens, the only kid around him that had something like that, or Tony Hawk discovering drained swimming pools to trick out into skating bowled half pipes, Craig, essential for his craft bought him a free weight set. And to further Craig’s assist Justin’s dad had sent away to the U. of Nebraska football coach and was sent their workout regime.

Craig explained to Justin quite simply, that was a bench set, he could either hit that harder than anyone in West Des Moines for the next four years and have your college paid for or go through the motions, did what’s expected as opposed to what’s not, and spend an entire life paying back college loans stifling your chances of financial solvency from a middle class income where bulls for always fodder for disagreement and through which an appreciation for the dollar was born. College Scholarship, D2, D1, that was all, the NFL NEVER entered into this conversation.

And with Nebraska’s conditioning program and a full weight set at the crib, so it began. Now West Des Moines High school has since in the last decade become the dominant dynasty in big time D1 Iowa high school football netting a half dozen state title over the decade since Justin graduated. In Justin’s years a state title was never in the cards, and while they were good, they were not great, they were a far cry from the success that followed his departure.

Success following Justin is a theme that follows him each and every place he leaves, always falling just short. However in his footsteps places erupt. His next stop, Kansas Jayhawks of the Big 12 was no exception. And how he arrived at Kansas is a story unto itself as well. Justin was never all state not as a junior, not as a senior. You’d think these slights would motivate him, I think they did. As a senior, his dad went to the paper plant, the day they printed their all-state selections. Craig, his dad and biggest fan, was disappointed grabbing that first edition before it even hit the Des Moines street to find out Justin was second team all state. It’s a safe assumption to make the entire all state roster from Justin’s senior year, not one of them made it to the league. For all the scouting, thought and money that goes into the many tools of deployment that surround big time college football Justin had fallen off everyone’s radar.

Both Iowa and Iowa state were not interested. Justin like any kid growing up playing football in Iowa had dreamed of playing football at Iowa, the buckeyes, Iowa state was a safety, the runner up, the fact that both schools fell on deaf ears when it came to the recruitment of Justin Hartwig was a slight.

During the first season of filming Justin for the documentary the Kansas Jayhawks had won a national title on the basketball court, and their football program, no longer the Rodney Dangerfield of the Big 12, had transmogrified into a national powerhouse. Our cameras followed Justin to the Orange Bowl, to watch Kansas take on (?). His super agent Drew Rosenhaus who makes his residence and made his mark in Miami was on hand. Drew Rosenhaus rise to fame was pretty simple when you think about it. He monopolized the kids coming at of the NFL from U. of Miami. Miami, weather or not they have been successful on the field over the past decade; you can’t argue the fact that they have had more NFL first round selections than any other school in the nation. Rosenhaus works hard for his client’s. First his high school and now his Kansas had exploded with success. (also discuss the discus at Kansas and being a captain in his senior year. Discus story goes back to high school and was a good one)

The NFL.

During our first meeting I peppered Justin with questions. I remember asking him very excited, just over the nature of the question, “do you remember where you were when you got drafted?” And instantaneously he smiled and in a real down to earth mid west confident way he chimed proudly, “I was in my dorm room, on the sixth floor in Lawrence Kansas.” Wow. To be drafted in the NFL, and for me those thoughts that everyone that tried and almost always never achieve sport on the professional level, those thoughts of the time, the dedication, those coaches, the voices, the pain, the dream, wow. What a minute, being the storyteller myself, I had goose bumps just hearing it. His diminutive smile and the humbled yet proud nature he encompassed saying it so fresh like it just happened the other day, it was amazing, I fell in love with the guy.


See I’d met Justin or has his agent Just-O calls him at the absolute crossroads of his professional career. It appeared to be the twilight of his career and there was a vast amount of uncertainty and heightened expectation. He was unsure of his body and was under the radar attempting to come back from an injury that no offensive linemen had ever come back from. Under the weight of a gigantic contract he signed just one year before and after missing almost the entire season his young career was in jeopardy. With the average NFL lifespan shorter than a few years careers in this most popular league in America are typically short. But before we get to all of that, let me take you back to Tennessee, the Titans formerly the Oilers, where he was first drafted and shot to stardom. The NFL: beginnings before our cameras started rolling our some of the best stories he had (until we get to Pittsburgh). But those first seasons, the come up, how you got so big (NO PUN INTENHEDED) ARE always the most distinct for anyone. The end the pain, the gain, the why the who are all intangible elements that envelope any story worth telling, but the rise, when things really start popping off to me is always the stupid dope illmatic hot shit.

Titans.

Unlike his college and high school teams Justin joined the Titans the year after they’d fallen literally at the buzzer to the Rams at the Georgia Dome XXXIV. By the time of Justin Hartwig’s arrival as a sixth round career underdog, the Titans were already on the map. Steve McNair was a star and if it wasn’t for that one half an inch at the buzzer, Justin would’ve entered the league playing for the Super Bowl champions. The Titans to this day have never been back to the Super Bowl, you enjoy it when it comes cause as any seasoned veteran will tell you, you never know if you’ll ever get back. But TN was a young organization and Nashville point blank was a fun city to be a rookie professional football player in.

IN HIS ROOKIE YEAR, JUSTIN SPOENT NEARLY THE ENTIRE SEASON INACTIVE MAKING THE LEAGUE MINIMUM. He played in the last three games of the season primarily on special teams, the true mark of a late drafted rookie in the NFL. Special teams, talk to some players that make their living primarily on special teams cause the can’t crack a starting gig, and it’s hell. In TN there was a real sense of camaraderie, he had friends , good friends on the team even as a rookie, they hung out, trusted and generally had a great time together. And for Justin, things in TN were only going to get better. Like sliding doors, or Wally Pipp (great reference), Justin would soon get the chance of a lifetime, an opportunity would surface early in his second season that would change the course of his entire career, and life.

(commercial break. Hahahaha).

Early in his second year with the Titans an injury happened to their then starting center (name) and in a weird numbers game his number was called to play a position he had never played before in his career. And it was here that he’d never look back. Not to mention, the center position is like the point guard, entails much more than any other position on the O-line, you are the shot caller, and you handle the balls and make the calls and lead the men. For Justin although he’d never played center, this was a natural transition, speaking both to his repertoire as an athlete and not just a football player. Also it spoke to his inherent skills as a solid dude and leader.

Justin as a rookie and sixth rounder signed the usual mutli-year contract for low dough. His stint at starter would become permanent. He started almost every game and soon would become a fixture in Tennessee with his scalped head and narrow blond mo hawk. He’d switched agents, blocked for the NFL’s MVP in Steve Mcnair and twice saw through to plow the way for Eddie George in back to back thousand yard seasons. Within this time TN would also make another run at the SB, falling just short in the AFC championship game up in a battle tested snowy New England falling to Tom Brady who was en route to his second of three Super Bowl rings and the building of a modern day NFL dynasty.

Justin would earn the coveted game ball, even in loss for that championship game in New England. It would sit in his game room on one of his mantels the first time I visited his house in Charlotte. He’d tell me a story about Eddie George going up to Ohio State and being big timed by Maurice Claret, whom he’d heard prior was excited to meet him, describing his as his mentor. He’d been in the league long enough and with enough success to fire his home town smaller time Kansas agent for the likes of Drew Rosenhaus. He pimped the mo hawk and was making quite a name for himself as a TN starter under Mcnair’s guidance never experie3nced a losing season.

He’d crafted a style as a technician on the line rather than a brute force. He was never the strongest, never lifted the most, going back to high school, not the cool crowd most popular kid. And in making that career shift to center, he’d found a true mentor in the TN O line coach Mike Munchek. A former Houston Oiler and hall of fame Offensive linemen Munchek was instrumental and bringing out the best in Justin’s drive and ultimately on field performance. Justin would constantly referenced Munchek throughout the project, the teacher that taught him the skills to survive in the NFL. Taught him everything he knows, he speak with the highest of praise for Munchek both as an individual as well as an O line coach.

Also within this time he’d play with the best of teammates for whom he’d have the highest of praise. Benji, other guy that told the great Wig rookie story of him being the spokesman for one game), Zach Pillar, another name and of course Jacob bell. Jacob and Justin would become the best of friends even as their paths in the league diverted. Jacob appears in the documentary almost as a supporting role for the many times throughout the two years of filming that got together and kicked it. And for all of those guys most notably Jacob because we know so much about him, Munchek is the guy that allowed them to quote “blow up” when they eventually left for to die for contracts.

Justin end time in TN is covered in our initial footage right away. He’d watch as the organization handles in extremely poor fashion the end of Steve Mcnair’s days. The famous story of Air Mcnair the face of the franchise and former MVP of the league being locked out of the weight room and being told by a general runoff the mill employee that locks had been changed didn’t settle well with anyone in the organization. And as Justin’s contract came up, Drew finally had a chance to do what he does and Justin got to see it. Instantly he’d talk on film about the difference.

“The guys a beast, he works harder, has more contacts, get’s more offers, his the best at what he does and I’m happy he’s working for me.” And as Justin began to test the exciting free agent waters, offers were being made, Drew was driving his price up, and the Titans sat idle. He loved his time in Nashville, but also with Mcnair’s departure, new offers coming in and Titans not being on top of it, he slipped away. By the time they came back with an honest offer, the damage was done, their timing soured and Justin Hartwig was gone after five seasons with the TN Titans and one AFC championship game ball and start albeit in a losing effort. That game was another snow classic in Foxborough.

It was a bitter sweet ending to his time in TN his teammates he so adored and the city and organization where he’d become a fixture were all being left for the promise of a new start and more money than he ever dreamed possible when he first starting hitting that weight bench his freshman year of high school. He was off to the Carolina Panthers who, just like before he got to TN, were just coming off a super Bowl loss to the New England Patriots. The Panthers were a sound and str4ong organization, Rosenhaus had just made Justin one of the richest O linemen in the game at the time, definitely a top ten contract with a huge signing bonus. Rosenhaus ended up netting Justin a 5 year $20 million contract with a 3 million signing bonus.

In addition to Justin the Panthers also made a further investment in their O line signing pro bowler Mike “the Ultimate Left Guard” Wahle away from the Green Bay Packers for a whopping sum of cash. Expectations in Carolina for both Mike, Justin and the organization could not have been higher. Sporting one of the premier defenses in the “league” Carolina now looked to bolster their O line to compliment their commitment to the running game as well as accentuate Steve Smiths ability to make big plays. At the time of Justin’s ti9me in Carolina Steve Smith stood alone as the best receiver in all of the NFL putting together back to back RIDICULOUS seasons of Sammy Koufax type of statistical swagger. IN addition to their Super Bowl QB Jake Delhome everything pointed to the sky by the time Justin settled in with his then girlfriend Paige into palatial mansion in the something section (Piper Peke) of Carolina. Paige was much younger than Justin, still in college they had met, fallen in love in TN and now with all of the good vibes and tons of money she’d agree to further the journey as they made their way to Carolina and super stardom. All of his experience in TN with his friends, teammates, city and organization were the best of the best, a bit goofy at the end but nothing but well wishes and good vibes when he left, they both had no reason and or indication to think Carolina would be any different. IN fact the purchase of mansion on golf course right across the way from wrestling legend Rick Flair, they had reason to believe the good times were just beginning and about to go serious rock star. The house he was moving into was occupied formerly by NBA analyst and basketball legend Hubie Brown (that right?).

First Season in Carolina.

This is where it gets murky, and the story really evolves, this is still a fresh whole year before I’d met him.

In the spring before turning his new leaf in Carolina, Justin had experienced a hernia. Now I’m no doctor but my understanding is that hernia’s can be very significant injuries. Their precarious nature calls a vigilance surrounding the rehab and work expectations as hernia’s have the potential to create far greater problems if not dealt with properly. I say this only because this is where the best becomes the worst, the unexpected crossroads that for all of us prove the only certainty of life. For in Justin’s second game of his first season with the Panthers he tore his groin. In the meat market known as the NFL an interesting pattern emerges regarding a trainers conflict of injury measured against what’s best for the player vs. what’s best for the organization. It’s quite a pickle when you figure this is the athletic trainer where talking about. The healer, the trainer, diagnosing their vehicles, their bodies, millions of dollars spent on investments do not fall on deaf ears when it comes to research and knowing everything little fact surrounding the players health.

They knew about the hernia. J. Wig as aforementioned came in with a litany of expectations both for himself and the organization as a whole. He got paid the big bucks for the charming Carolina franchise with the tell uniforms and warm weather fans. He had the mansion he bought from Billy Packer and lived across the green from Rick Flair. He was 26 when he signed, the world was his oyster, alls he had to do was simply use the correct dinner fork.

The head coach in Carolina and to this day is John Fox, a Cali guy that paradoxically against the culture from which he was spawned is a throw back hard ass. He was cut from the cloth more of a Bill Parcells (whom he coached for in New York as a secondary coach during one of their Super Bowl victories) than a Pete Caroll. Justin and his new head coach had some front and back similarities with the destinations they’d be and eventually wind up. Coach Fox got his start in collegiate football as the secondary coach for the Kansas Jayhawks, where Justin Hartwig played his collegiate football. Fox would soon jump into the NFL with the Pittsburgh Steelers, the team and city Justin would eventually earn his true fame in.
Back to Carolina and in just his second game (might have even been the first) he tore his groin. Justin knew something was off. No one knows a person’s body better than that person we should all be pro choice, but Justin had felt something “pop.” John Fox he runs a hard ass training camp, full pads, double bunk, back to reality for the big pampered pros so goes the philosophy, football is a grimy business and Coach Fox ran a hell ass training camp. And because of the contract, Justin was rushed back on the field two weeks later, because of the money and because Coach Fox didn’t want “soft” players. In that spirit, and with the coach having way too much influence over the trainer Justin was back in the starting lineup a week later, just the 2nd or maybe 3rd week into the season.

Against his instinct, young and wanting as an employee to meet the massive expectations that come in this league for young players cut big checks, he was injected back in, starting center, week 3 (or 2?). The organization had made a grand bluff, for a hobbled Wig at fifty percent and a shoddy groin on the heels of a spring hernia, ripped his groin, it had come fully off the bone, just like that Justin’s season was over, and after a few more tests from team specialists, it was severe. Justin trying to conduct his own private tests, which Carolina had a legal right to be in the room with him at all time (how fucked up is that?) his NFL career was suddenly in jeopardy.

One thing was certain right away; Justin inaugural season in Carolina was over. The Panthers message boards ate him alive, and all of a sudden in a different culture, city and organization he was all alone in his big house. Him and Paige, gone were the fun playing days, team spirit and flexing ownership of an entire city. Carolina was a different city, a banking khaki one half culture and some dirty south shit on the other side. Justin’s enormous house, pool and golf course, a trophy to his hard work and success on the professional level was fifty minutes outside downtown Carolina. He was removed, he was new, he season was over before it started and so began the long year of recovery, depression and uncertainties. For Justin and his young girlfriend Paige whom with him were transplanted from the bliss of TN, this would be the hardest year yet. And the very worst part, that know one would tell or talk about was the fact that Justin knew in his heart something was serio0usly wrong with him, their was mutual bad taste and heated emotion from forcing him hobbled back into the starting lineup, fresh in the trenches so early in the season. Ion the NFL, the investment is treated different than say the NBA, in the NBA Justin would never be out there in that condition, but because in the NFL, the money is not guaranteed, the trainers and organization can be more gangster. They often don’t give a fuck, if you die; they’re not on the hook paying you years after your playing days our done. Point blank BECAUSE THE STAKES ARE SO HIGH AND THE MONEY IS NOT GURANTEED THE ORGANIZATION IS MORE APT TO ROLL THE DICE. THE ONLKY PROBLEM IN THAT EQUATION FOR THE ACTUAL PLAYER IS THE MINEFIELD THAT IS THE MODERN DAY NFL, IN A snap of the football where one can inflict damage he may not necessarily walk away from.

And knowing Justin as a homeboy, not a stat or a mass of energy and weight it’s a bitter reality to digest. Justin had a five year deal and the first year was a bust. If they cut him, they’d lose only the money he earned in his few games the first year with the signing bonus. The teams trainers expected him to come back and play the next season, but in the back of Justin’s mind for the first time in his pro life, he wasn’t so sure. His air of invincibility had been poked, air was coming out and there was doubt even if he returned the level he could play at. Of course this was all on the hum bug, all to himse3lf, he put the face on for girl, city and friends that he would return, nothing more than a mere flap that all players, if they are fucking lucky enough to get that far undoubtedly come across.

And so it was, under those auspices and back-story the very first time I met Justin Hartwig in April of 06 incidentally the day of the NFL draft. He had missed the entire rest of his first season, a disappointing season in which the Panthers failed to make the playoff’s.

Ujival his childhood best friend as mentioned at the tip-top had been recording music for me and we’d become fast friends. When we first met it was safe to say he was one of the biggest men I’d ever seen in my life. And for that afternoon, we went back to high, drank buds, smoked buds, chopped it up about football the “league, dreams and life stories. I’d inform Justin about my basketball documentary, my boy Keebs and his filming history with a one DJ Premier. I think during that first meeting I found his story very interesting as he discussed his injury, expectations and the life of an NFL offensive linemen. I think he found me, well, entertaining,


Through it all a quick friendship was found, close to home through Ujival, shit was contining to move along. Justin LOVES basketball and kept an eye towards our hoops documentery, he confided to Ugy that he thougtht it was pretty dope that we were doing it. The idea to ask him for us to be allowed to film him and tell his story came a couple months down the road. But during that first time a story had already jumped off the screen. As Justin was expolai9ning his transition to Carolina, the injury, he was on his way to Pittsburgh to meet aworld reknown groin specialist, I’m a sports fan and I was lolving it. Though Wig was chillest guy ever.

The NFL Draft.

And as the draft starts, we naturally FLOW INTO THE TV ROOM FROM THE BALCONY AS WE’RE ALERTED TO CAROLINAS ON THE Clock. Myself and my roommate Justin another Boston kid and sports fanatic and cracking Budweisers loving that their center is there with us during that moment. ‘Great story for the bar later tonight’ I’d muse to myself


TV Commisioner: With the (#12th?) pick the Carolina Panthers draft Deangelo Williams, University of Georgia. Justin was psyched, everyone in the room was rooting for this mutha fucka to be amped up over the pick, he was psyched. Good times roll on and then in the second round, the Panthers drafted a center, Ryan Kaliea out of USC, owner of two national titles. It shook the sky bar a bit, Wig the consummate professional was upbeat about it, the best player available. It did speak to the perceived severity of Justin’s Groin injury.
It’s the scariest thing in the world for a player. Your body is your vehicle your shrine what you know, how you collect checks. A couple months later visiting his own special aforementioned with uisual Panthers observation officials. God forbid they know something about this horrendous situation that they got him into before Justin, no, doesn’t work that way. It’s the mutha fucken NFL and dialogue is cheap. At Duke the prognostication had come through and it confirmed what we feared. (describe injury again).

And as I was pushing Wig on the phone more and more about the idea of us, fresh off filming an entire high school season, film him. And just like Coach Farias, the question of why could not have been heard more, why? And it’s a good question. Beyond my enthusiasm and pitch of inside story of an NFL linemen, never told! Beyond a full length pitch realistically of what we can do for a little with an underground team in place, there was still more.

Hearing about THIS INUJRY, THE CONFLICT OF INTEREST IN THE JOB OF THE ONE GUY THAT’S SUPPOSED TO KEEP EVERYONE HEALTHY, and now this verdict. His groin was gone. He was a center. No Offensive linemen at that point had come back and played a full season in this situation much less the Super Bowl. With the sobering loss, we finally had a story. And with everything it would take both mentally and physically from this reality / type of news ceded his consent. And from there it was on.

Justin is the softest spoken big man you’ve ever seen. And to see this hulk mentally adjust to the new realities facing his loss of push, the odds against, it was scary. He needed the mechanics and mental skull that Munchek had taught him more than ever.

“The force is strong with this one.” Vadar. (speaking of Luke in the X-Wing about to blow the Death Star Episode IV)

And so it was an August of 2006, both Keebler and myself (masterminds of aforementioned hoops documentary) flew down to Carolina with the cameras, boom mike, and myself to break the ice for their last season pre-season game vs. our hometown Patriots.

The first interviews to me our priceless. Him in the hotel, the night before, sneaking around a corner to a vacant part of the empty bar because Wig didn’t want his coaches to seer him filming this movie about him. They were hard asses, he was coming back, facing odds with the big contract, whatever, he’s not guy, so it was on the low, just breaking the ice to in his words on film, “see how it goes.” Kid is gold.

Plus we got to be on the field. And in the locker room, free reign. One thing about the footage, who knows if we can use most of it, although I suspect the locker room and non during the shit, can be worked on the little licensing tip if any. Point being made, Carolina from the moment we stepped in there gave us unfettered access. It was a personal moment being on the field when all my hero New England Patriots strolled out.

Funny moment filming during that game came when, late second half, we walked across the field and were behind the Patriot’s bench. Brushci, Cassel, Brady, Harrison, legend after legend, we were silently smiling after I’d whispered a few minutes earlier, ‘let’s get some Pat’s footage for our personal.’ Anyway, as we’re not even half way across the back of the bench, a coach walked up and before he could say anything Keebs piped, “I know, keep it moving , keep it moving.” And the Patriot’s coach said, “no you can’t film this” And pause and as Keebs tried to response he was clipped by the Pat’s and more NFL official guy than us saying, “Put that down now! You can’t film this.” Quickly I interjected the two, and said, “come Keebs sorry sir, peace.” Walking away Keebs replied, “Dream, that’s good, they usually take the tape.” The old pro said, had me laughing.

And on that first visit and first day iof footage, us seeing the ridiculous mansion and shrine to hippest mutha fuckas under thirty club blowing up in the US, had settled a few scenario’s. One training camp, it was a contested battle for the right to start at Center. Kalie was paid top dollar, no qualms, Wig beat him out. While he complained about camp, and the junior high level Fox forced even the veterens to go down to during the “hell week”… And with the precarious nature of his severely strained and recently repaired right leg. He won at the job at center, he played the first quarter with the rest of the starters in the final pre season game. 5:32 PMypical time for last pre-season game, and Kaliel was back up.

What I love about Justin Hartwig, is the competitor, it’s contagious, it was naturally an odd relationship, the hot shot kid from LA, second round center, and you the now vulnerable high priced veteren, and it brought the beast out. Not only did the Wig win the spot, and in my estimation throughout the season set a great example to LA LALA land kid what it meant to be a pro, he also made a bet. It was an instant story line to his injury and pre-season battle. It was a classic Seinfeld NFL, NHL type of bet, simple in math true in test. Beard growing contest, he ever shaved first , lost. So funny, really taking advantage of the awkwardness as well as letting the rookie know you can’t hold me!

If Carolina was lifestyle of the rich and famous, laced but depressed, with Pittsburgh was defiantly back to basics, Rocky street shit, remember why you got the taste. Just a side note, an interesting a metaphor and perhaps a glance into why some franchises are more successful than others despite similar financial tools at their deposal.

Point being I LOVED the beard contest, the press in Carolina got a hold of it and it served as a quirky little side game to the real game to the life game in season one. Justin ultimately triumphed. We have priceless footage of his victory shave before the Orange Bowl (Kansas). He won and Kaliel later said he shaved cause he freaked out a little kid at a Carolina charity event and “didn’t want that type of reputation around Charlotte.” And we were like, “Pussy!” (Me ands Keebs) and he lost a sweet G.

Every game we filmed, \after every game I spoke with him, worse than Jerry Maguire cause this was real life, he’d on the EL (lower than the DL) talk to my about the concern and trepidation he had but couldn’t have surrounding his groin. The whole story.

I’d sit with his wonderful mother Lori aND FOR THE FIRST TIME REALLY UNDERSTAND A FUCKING MOTHERS CONCERN. It was a minefield out there. He’d hit me with shit, ‘I don’t even know if it’s worth it.’ “I still want to be able to have a normal life after football.” After football BTW is a monster conversation in this piece in the footage you’ll hear echoed time and again.

But he forged on and after a rough year before and still the fragility of both knee and mind and relationship ceased to exist. We filmed, it was fun, and in a way we were all getting through a shitty situation together and the best main line of the those days were we were getting through it, Justin was getting through it, we were getting dope footage every time we were able to come through and cop.

(to be continued. clips of Justin and his dad to follow)