Don't tell me I ain't good enough.

If you are of the male species and you claim you never wanted to grow up to be a professional athlete, you're lying.

           WE ALL DID.

Football, basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis (if you're a weirdo), hockey, and the list goes on and on if you're including the Olympic sports.
There is the rare-case of being so dang uncoordinated that you decided to take a knee and called it quits before you got your hopes up (you're most likely an Indie now anyways).  Otherwise, you're in the same boat as me and everyone else full of testosterone.

Basketball was my dream.  I WAS the next Michael Jordan, and if you told me otherwise it would go in through one ear, and out the other.  In reality I sucked, but who's to tell a smelly 10 year-old that he's not good enough?  Who's to tell that chubby brown-boy he's not fast enough? (Actually he's not brown, he's just covered in so much dirt he looks brown).  No one with a conscious dares to crush a little kid's dreams like that, besides Hitler.  He would literally crush their dreams, really, like while they were asleep and dreaming he would crush them, literally. Get it?  Unless your first name is Adolf or Lucifer, you must lie and tell a kid he's good enough.  That's the 11th commandment.

This isn't just about sports.  I know you females all thought you were either the next American Idol, or America's Next Top Model.  Either way you wanted to be an idol, you selfish-snobs.
Who's to tell you that you have the same tone and pitch as a Lion eating Pop-Rocks?  Unless they're a Zookeeper and apart of Mo-Tab, they have no right to say anything.

In our heads we all thought we were going to be famous and it didn't cross our minds that it would never happen.  That's how growing-up works.  Never did we think we weren't good enough, we weren't fast enough, we weren't pretty enough because reality isn't real to children.  Our fantasies were our realities, and our realities were nonexistent.

How old were you when you got some sense knocked into you, and you realized the NBA, NFL, or being the next Beyonce wasn't possible?

I was 12 years-old.

A brand-new deacon who used to dream about signing basketballs and babies foreheads with his autograph, now walks the streets alone at night kicking rocks at puppies while blasting Eminem on his mp3.

I could have been the next Michael Jordan, I know I could have.  Maybe coming to reality is the worst thing that can happen to a kid.  Maybe.

-J.Stamos.