Most likable athlete ever? I was watching a documentary on some charitable athletes and it got me thinking on which athlete might be the most likable athlete ever. Athletes get a lot of shyt because they make millions for playing games that they love, and are not, saving lives are helping the planet and all that shyt. But a lot of athletes do make a big difference and it’s not their fault they’re raking in the $$$ they get paid what the market dictates, and it’s not like the fans would be getting the extra money if they took lower salaries, the old crusty ass owners would be pocketing that shyt. So I just wanna try and see if we can pin down in who is the most likable athlete of all time
Tim Tebow?
-have no choice but to include him
-Religious
-Has an OCD type proclivity towards being nice and doing good deeds despite taking steroids and being a lifetime popular kid/baller
-Greeted a retard in a minor league baseball game then hit a homerun for him
-helped a kid who had a seizure while playing professional baseball
-lies about his sexual history in order to help his rep and pipe more bytches. He’s a virgin, yeah iight, this was his college gf, I’m sure he was with her for her morales and big, eye catching personality and never piped once
TimTebowgirlfriend.jpg (image)
Shaquille O’Neal
- funny ass dude
-good taste in rap music (could’ve signed n’sync and the Backstreet Boys but didn’t because “he didn’t understand that shyt”
-has insecurity issues that non-millionaire non-superstar athlete non-7 footers can relate to
-great actor
-brought us shaqtin a fool
-gives Kobe haters the main piece of their argument against the greatness of Kobe Bryant
Bobby Bonilla
-still getting paid over a decade after being retired by the dumb ass Mets(sadly my team)
-was a beast in his prime
-down to check annoying ass sports journalists
Kareem Abdul-Jabber
-6 time MVP
-6 time NBA champion
-best selling author
-gives a lot to charity
-didn’t sign with the Nets because their original offer was too low and when they panicked and upped it he hit them with “a bidding war degrades the people involved...”
-is just a smart, super accomplished dude
- Michael Jordan
-GOAT
-gave us the chamilliomaire story
-still messes with questionable bytches while drunk like the average joe
http://sportsmockery.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/michael-jordan-drunk-athletes_lntmk.jpg
Both those chicks are 7s at best, I’m 99% sure MJ did this on purpose just to lift our spirits and show us that even the GOATs slum it from time to time
-is kind of a dikk, but mostly to people who have it coming. Like this smug ass writer who prob thought he was gonna get laid:
But just as I'm turning away, Christine surprises me—and everyone else—by grabbing my forearm. "No!" she blurts out. "Don't go! Hold on."
She abruptly stands up and bids the group farewell, hoisting her half-finished bowl of shrimp ravioli and glass of champagne as she leaves.
The waiter scrambles to react, and Christine and I head for a table of our own. The move happens so fast I don't think to ask for a table far, far away. Big mistake.
We settle into the table right next to Jordan's—Christine snares the seat facing him as I sit to the side—and it seems all eyes are upon us. Including his.
I figure MJ and his pals will soon grow tired of ogling Christine, who's wearing a strapless minidress and knee-high black boots. After a half-hour, however, it becomes clear they're not going to stop.
"Jeez, I'm not that good-looking," Christine says.
Despite the distractions, we're mostly engrossed in conversation. At one point, she's voluntarily saying she's attracted to me. "It's the champagne," I laugh nervously. She knows I'm gaga for her.
Still, it's impossible to ignore the table of men next to us, especially that guy with the poster-boy smirk. Christine isn't blameless, either. I notice her occasionally smiling Jordan's way. The second or third time, I call her on it.
"Is there a problem?" I ask.
"I'm sorry. It's just that he keeps staring at me," she says.
I swing my head toward Jordan; he tips his head back and puffs on a cigar, pretending not to notice.
I can't believe this is happening—I'm getting dissed by one of the most popular icons in Washington...the country...no, the entire world! Isn't he supposed to be a role model?
While Christine is off in the ladies' room, I catch Jordan's eye for a millisecond. His upper lip curls, as though I were some rookie trying to challenge him on the court.
When Christine gets back, she's clearly basking in the attention from the other table. I figured she made her choice when she left Jordan's table. My instincts now, though, tell me she may be reconsidering. I suggest we leave, but she says she wants to stay.
Now it's my turn to go to the bathroom. When I re-emerge, the curly-haired man is sitting next to her in one of our unused chairs. I sit down and engage in some polite banter. He's Tim Grover, Jordan's personal trainer. Grover seems unimpressed by the news that my cousin Leslie is married to Wizards backup guard Hubert Davis.
So I stand up, extend my right hand, and announce, "Well, it was nice to meet you, Tim. Have a good night." He glides back to Jordan's table.
I sit there stewing. I've admired Jordan from afar for many years. Now that I've encountered him face to face he's...uh, he's hitting on my date?
Before I can call for the check, the men at Jordan's table rise to leave, hovering over us and fluffing their expensive outerwear.
A tall bald man in a full-length white cashmere coat remains behind, mumbling, "See you soon" to Jordan and the others as they shuffle out. He takes a seat at the bar, orders a drink, and swivels around in his stool so he faces my side.
Minutes later, Christine and I get up to go. As I take a few steps ahead of her to grab the door, the man in the cashmere coat slips behind me. When I turn around, he's whispering in her ear, handing her a note of some sort. Christine quickly grabs it and stuffs it in her pocket. The man scurries away.
"Hey, what was that he handed you?" I ask Christine, acting amused.
"Oh, you mean this?" she says, playfully handing me a card adorned with the Wizards logo. It's the card of Fred Whitfield, identified as a "legal counsel" for the team.
"What did he say to you?" I ask, bravely handing the card back.
"Ummm...he said, ‘When that guy drops you off, call this phone number and we'll send the limo to pick you up,'" Christine responds.
"Really? Wow. Are you going to call?"
"I don't know yet," she replies.
LMAO
-Joe Namath
-another average dude who achieved success
-QB for Jets during one of the greatest upset victories of all time
-shows us it’s okay to make mistakes with average women while drunk
-Brett Favre
-was a warrior who started in almost 300 consecutive games in the most violent pro sport
-HOFer and super bowl champ
-besides Tony Romo, was arguably the most reliable QB when it came to throwing clutch interceptions
- is relatable because he dealt with addiction like the average joe and also sent regrettable texts like the average joe
"'Brett Favre Once Sent Me Cock Shots": Not A Love Story
Tim Tebow?
-have no choice but to include him
-Religious
-Has an OCD type proclivity towards being nice and doing good deeds despite taking steroids and being a lifetime popular kid/baller
-Greeted a retard in a minor league baseball game then hit a homerun for him
-helped a kid who had a seizure while playing professional baseball
-lies about his sexual history in order to help his rep and pipe more bytches. He’s a virgin, yeah iight, this was his college gf, I’m sure he was with her for her morales and big, eye catching personality and never piped once
TimTebowgirlfriend.jpg (image)
Shaquille O’Neal
- funny ass dude
-good taste in rap music (could’ve signed n’sync and the Backstreet Boys but didn’t because “he didn’t understand that shyt”
-has insecurity issues that non-millionaire non-superstar athlete non-7 footers can relate to
-great actor
-brought us shaqtin a fool
-gives Kobe haters the main piece of their argument against the greatness of Kobe Bryant
Bobby Bonilla
-still getting paid over a decade after being retired by the dumb ass Mets(sadly my team)
-was a beast in his prime
-down to check annoying ass sports journalists
Kareem Abdul-Jabber
-6 time MVP
-6 time NBA champion
-best selling author
-gives a lot to charity
-didn’t sign with the Nets because their original offer was too low and when they panicked and upped it he hit them with “a bidding war degrades the people involved...”
-is just a smart, super accomplished dude
- Michael Jordan
-GOAT
-gave us the chamilliomaire story
-still messes with questionable bytches while drunk like the average joe
http://sportsmockery.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/michael-jordan-drunk-athletes_lntmk.jpg
Both those chicks are 7s at best, I’m 99% sure MJ did this on purpose just to lift our spirits and show us that even the GOATs slum it from time to time
-is kind of a dikk, but mostly to people who have it coming. Like this smug ass writer who prob thought he was gonna get laid:
But just as I'm turning away, Christine surprises me—and everyone else—by grabbing my forearm. "No!" she blurts out. "Don't go! Hold on."
She abruptly stands up and bids the group farewell, hoisting her half-finished bowl of shrimp ravioli and glass of champagne as she leaves.
The waiter scrambles to react, and Christine and I head for a table of our own. The move happens so fast I don't think to ask for a table far, far away. Big mistake.
We settle into the table right next to Jordan's—Christine snares the seat facing him as I sit to the side—and it seems all eyes are upon us. Including his.
I figure MJ and his pals will soon grow tired of ogling Christine, who's wearing a strapless minidress and knee-high black boots. After a half-hour, however, it becomes clear they're not going to stop.
"Jeez, I'm not that good-looking," Christine says.
Despite the distractions, we're mostly engrossed in conversation. At one point, she's voluntarily saying she's attracted to me. "It's the champagne," I laugh nervously. She knows I'm gaga for her.
Still, it's impossible to ignore the table of men next to us, especially that guy with the poster-boy smirk. Christine isn't blameless, either. I notice her occasionally smiling Jordan's way. The second or third time, I call her on it.
"Is there a problem?" I ask.
"I'm sorry. It's just that he keeps staring at me," she says.
I swing my head toward Jordan; he tips his head back and puffs on a cigar, pretending not to notice.
I can't believe this is happening—I'm getting dissed by one of the most popular icons in Washington...the country...no, the entire world! Isn't he supposed to be a role model?
While Christine is off in the ladies' room, I catch Jordan's eye for a millisecond. His upper lip curls, as though I were some rookie trying to challenge him on the court.
When Christine gets back, she's clearly basking in the attention from the other table. I figured she made her choice when she left Jordan's table. My instincts now, though, tell me she may be reconsidering. I suggest we leave, but she says she wants to stay.
Now it's my turn to go to the bathroom. When I re-emerge, the curly-haired man is sitting next to her in one of our unused chairs. I sit down and engage in some polite banter. He's Tim Grover, Jordan's personal trainer. Grover seems unimpressed by the news that my cousin Leslie is married to Wizards backup guard Hubert Davis.
So I stand up, extend my right hand, and announce, "Well, it was nice to meet you, Tim. Have a good night." He glides back to Jordan's table.
I sit there stewing. I've admired Jordan from afar for many years. Now that I've encountered him face to face he's...uh, he's hitting on my date?
Before I can call for the check, the men at Jordan's table rise to leave, hovering over us and fluffing their expensive outerwear.
A tall bald man in a full-length white cashmere coat remains behind, mumbling, "See you soon" to Jordan and the others as they shuffle out. He takes a seat at the bar, orders a drink, and swivels around in his stool so he faces my side.
Minutes later, Christine and I get up to go. As I take a few steps ahead of her to grab the door, the man in the cashmere coat slips behind me. When I turn around, he's whispering in her ear, handing her a note of some sort. Christine quickly grabs it and stuffs it in her pocket. The man scurries away.
"Hey, what was that he handed you?" I ask Christine, acting amused.
"Oh, you mean this?" she says, playfully handing me a card adorned with the Wizards logo. It's the card of Fred Whitfield, identified as a "legal counsel" for the team.
"What did he say to you?" I ask, bravely handing the card back.
"Ummm...he said, ‘When that guy drops you off, call this phone number and we'll send the limo to pick you up,'" Christine responds.
"Really? Wow. Are you going to call?"
"I don't know yet," she replies.
LMAO
-Joe Namath
-another average dude who achieved success
-QB for Jets during one of the greatest upset victories of all time
-shows us it’s okay to make mistakes with average women while drunk
-Brett Favre
-was a warrior who started in almost 300 consecutive games in the most violent pro sport
-HOFer and super bowl champ
-besides Tony Romo, was arguably the most reliable QB when it came to throwing clutch interceptions
- is relatable because he dealt with addiction like the average joe and also sent regrettable texts like the average joe
"'Brett Favre Once Sent Me Cock Shots": Not A Love Story
Carmelo Anthony.
