It’s NFL Draft Night, or Day, or whatever tf they say (Bars…).
The actual event doesn’t mean that much to me, anymore. I’m nearly not as big of an NFL fan as I used to be. Partly because of how they did (and continue to do) Kaepernick. Partly because of how they chose everything else over the Black folks who play their game and consume their product. Partly because I’m a Cowboys fan whose owner is probably the most racist owner in the league in a league full of racist owners and they been sorry longer than Keith Richards been snorting coke. And partly because watching an NFL game is kind of boring.
*Deep sigh* On to Russell Wilson’s ex wife.
Now, beauty is subjective and what not, I get all that. Something, something eye of the beholder, I think? But let’s be honest, Russell Wilson’s come up from his ex wife, Ashton Meem, to Ciara reminds me of the come up Tony Montana had when “Push it to the Limit” was playing in the background and the banker was flabbergasted at all the money he had to clean and Tony had a tiger at his wedding and shit.
I say all that to say that Wilson’s come up is legendary. Tony Montana legendary.
But let us rewind back to the night Russell Wilson was drafted in the 2012 NFL Draft. Originally, Wilson was seen holding what I believe to be a landline. Nah, I’m just fucking with y’all. It’s definitely a landline. I’m in my mid 30’s so I know a landline when I see it. Landlines were the epicenter for our momma’s gossiping back in the day. My momma would get off the phone with one her friends only to get on a phone with another friend and talk shit about the friend she just got off the phone with. “Darlene, chiiiiile, you won’t believe what Judy just told me…”
Shit, where was I? Anyway, yeah, Wilson can be seen, presumably receiving a phone call from his agent, informing him that the Seahawks may select him with their next selection. This is the calm before the storm, if you will. You can see the seriousness on Wilson’s face, as he is attentively listens to whoever is on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, Wilson’s ex wife is concentrating on whatever is on the TV screen, probably not fully aware of what’s about to happen next.
We then fast forward, only mere seconds (or minutes. I’m making up half of this shit as I go along) to when Wilson finally gets the call from the Seattle Seahawks, as they inform him that he is being drafted. If you notice, he switches over to his cell phone to receive this important call. When he reached for the celly, she knew. She knew, ugly ass dog in hand, the bag was about to be secured. The ex can’t contain her excitement. Her teeth on full display. Her nose sharpens like a serrated knife used by Michael Myers, himself. Her eyes locked in, not at the TV, like they were before, but at Wilson, himself. Her eyes are locked onto the bag. The bag she assumed would be secured, forever.
This final image is the pinnacle of “I thought I had it..” Here, Wilson is in full celebratory mode, while his ex is in full I don’t have to work another day in my mf natural born life mode. Both modes are telling, here. Russ’ face looks like he’s happy, but he knows there is so much work to be done. While, his ex is looking like her work is finished. Now all she has to do is cash the checks. And just like the image before, her teeth are just as visible. Her mouth wider than an anaconda swallowing a deer. Her nose sharper than a n*gga named Otis on Easter Sunday.
She thought she had it. She thought she made it. She thought she secured the bag, forever.
FOR…EV…ER (Say that in your Sandlot voice)
Leslie McLemore writes about a lot of different shit for Black With No Chaser. He is also the Takeaway Kang and is the father of two beautiful girls, one of which gets on every nerve he has. The other one is sweet. So, you know, balance.
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