Stop me if you've heard this joke before. Adam 'Pacman' Jones, Tank Johnson and Michael Vick walked into a bar. Nothing happens, but the second they leave, someone "else" starts shooting, fighting dogs or buying AK-47s.
The only "Entourage" I trust is on HBO, but unfortunately that makes too much sense for the "defendants."
I've been racking my brain trying to figure out what it is these three have in common. Of course, the answer is simple. Money. How much they have, how much they think they are worth and how it makes them feel. All three of these players grew up in the world of hip-hop commercialism. In that world, money exists to be made and then flaunted.
NFL players use their six-month vacations (the longest in sports) doing whatever it takes to live like a Puff Daddy/P-Diddy/Diddy video. As a quick side note, I'm really looking forward to Mr. Combs next incarnation as Diddy Kong and the ensuing battle with Nintendo. It's not enough to have the kind of money that rappers pretend to have, no, they have to live that imaginary lifestyle every chance they get.
Their salaries range from Vick's $167 million deal to Johnson's meager base salary. That might seem to separate them, but to me, the differences in their contracts completely explain their behavior. Those numbers led to three personality types. The under-appreciated, the pretender, and the untouchable.
Lets start with Tank Johnson. He's the under-appreciated middle child of this dysfunctional family. When you're only set to earn 548,000 this year, it's hard to pretend you are any kind of Diddy. Especially if Sean Combs' driver makes more than you.
After only 63 tackles, and 9 sacks in three years, that is all he is really worth this early in his career. Still, Johnson knew his contract was expiring soon. His "Baller" money was coming and he knew it. Under appreciated and angry about it, Johnson fortified his home with so many illegal weapons it would make an Afghani tribal leader blush. All in advance for the Fort Knox he felt he deserved.
Pacman's story is more complicated. His $30 million deal is definitely not pretend. It's real. But coming from one of the toughest projects in Atlanta, he has a lot of a past to buy away. Growing up, Jones heard over and over that he was the real deal. His friends began sucking up to him early on, knowing he was their ticket to the highlife. He promised them he would "make it rain" and he certainly did. Jones' problem isn't that he wants Vick's money, it's that he wants to be Vick.
His contract doesn't live up to the lifetime of hype that preceded his tenure in the NFL. According to his friends, he is a superstar and always has been. Now, because of them, he never will be.
And since most of his retirement money ended up in g-strings, he better get ready for the MC Hammer wake up call that he is due.
Vick, on the other hand, is the highest paid athlete in the NFL and the third highest paid sports figure in North America, period. I mean, he's Michael friggin Vick. Unfortunately, he knows it. And it makes him untouchable.
Take Pacman's entourage, give them anchor desks at ESPN, and you'll have maybe half of the hype machine that's been building up Vick.
He had major character issues coming out of college, yet, he was rewarded with an absolutely massive contract.
It was like being told, definitively, that being good on the field makes up for any amount of bad off of it.
As an untouchable, Vick got used to getting anything he wanted when he wanted it and if Michael Vick wants to bet $40,000 while two poor animals tear each other to pieces, well, who are we to judge?
He's Michael Vick. He's got the contract to prove it.
Unfortunately for Vick, there are two groups in the United States [PETA and the FBI] with just as much money and way more clout than him. He just pissed off both of them. Any team that starts him - if he stays out of jail or is allowed to play - will face nationwide boycotting and protesting unlike anything ever before seen.
And then there's bill HR-137. Weeks before allegations surfaced, resolution 137 was passed, making it a felony to participate, host, or bet on dog fighting regardless of state law.
So now Vick and Jones might be on their way to jail, and Johnson is a player without a team. Their different obsessions with the size of their contracts will undoubtedly lead to the same outcome: a lot less stripper/gun/dog-fight money in '08.
J. Owen Shipley is a junior English major and can be reached at myspace.com/Iamsportacus.
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