A letter from Donovan (Or at least what I would say)

Dear J. Whyatt Mondesire,

What did I ever do to you? I don't understand where all this anger hatred is coming from but you need to let it go. I realize that you may be upset that the Eagles haven't won the Super Bowl yet, however, as head of the Philadelphia chapter of the NAACP, I'm sure conditions of Black folks in the "City of Brotherly Love" would take precedent over my performance on the football field.

It seems like I'm a target for hate. First it was when I was in high school and they said I couldn't be a college quarterback. Then it was when I was drafted and everyone in the city including the mayor said the Eagles should've drafted Ricky Williams. Next, it was Rush Limbaugh who said I was overrated on national television because I was black quarterback. Of course we all know how No. 81 feels about me. Now here's you.

Someone not even qualified to talk about football calls me mediocre at best. Name some other quaterbacks who could do what I did with the talent I had. Besides Terrell Owens and Brian Westbrook, who've both come at the latter part of my career, my offensive weapons have been "mediocre at best." I went to 4 straight NFC championship games. I took my team to the Super Bowl WITHOUT T.O. I kept this team together in the locker room when its psychic could have easily been broken after the failures in the playoffs. I played hurt ALL YEAR LONG and when I left, the team was still in the playoff picture. According to you, I'm not a good leader though.

I'm trying to figure out what I've done to cause everyone to dislike me so much. I come from a good family. I got my degree from Syracuse University, which happens to be a very good school. In contradiction to perception of black professional athletes, my wife is BLACK. I've stayed out of trouble. When we lost all the NFC championship games, I was stand up and took the blame (even though my receivers were Todd Pinkston and Freddie Mitchell). I take the high road every time someone takes shots at me.

You've called me a sell-out because I don't want to be considered a running quarterback. Let me ask you something...name me one GREAT running quaterback. You can't because they got their heads cracked to many times before they got to that level. The truth of the matter is, I use my athleticism all the time in the pocket. Look at Mike Vick, doesn't he STAY injured. I play in a division with Roy Williams and Lavar Arrington. I think I'm going to stay back here behind Tra Thomas and Jon Runyan.

I think you have it backwards. You can't name a more capable, Black male celebrity role model than me. I've been the type of guy that people want their sons to grow to be. However you are the REAL sell-out. You sold out one of the most positive role models our communities just to get your name out there. For that you are a pathetic, jealous, juvenile, leaching and reprehensible human being who has to put down others to be noticed.


Sincerely,
Donovan McNabb

P.S.
I bet you wouldn't say it to my face!!!

It started so innocently

With just some cocktails...some finger food and close family and friends in my sisters' apartment. Over the years it has grown considerably and last year it was a big hit. Now it is on a totally different level.

I'm speaking of our annual holiday party and this was by far the biggest and most expensive of them all. I'm talking a rented tent, cocktail tables, dinner tables and a buffet with an open bar equipped with any drink you want, and a real DJ.

Now the party is just getting started with some friends and family there already. Now, my father (who over did it) walks in with a 3-piece suit on along with his girlfriend and some of her friends. Now, all the people that WE (as in the people throwing the party) invited are just sitting around chillin', but her and her friends go straight for the food and the drinks =(. Out of respect for my pops I won't take it any further than that.

Now you have about 80 black folks, a lot of alcohol and some music. Foolishness ensues.
There was one of sister's friends who showed up in matching pink sweaters with her boyfriend, that's right...PINK.

Then there was my cousin, who is gay (thus I have the right to joan) in his tight white shirt with the see-through sleeves. Now I'm in the house with the DJ (who was my roommate in college) and some of my friends and I just see all the heterosexual males who came with the girls coming out of the tent. In the words of one of them, "Gee, I can't F with cousin...I'm not tryna see that."

My father started out serving drinks at the bar. Background info on my pops, he uses alcohol as the chaser for his sodas and not the other way around for most folks so you know he makes some serious drinks. Bammas were hurting. Then my cousin, the same as mentioned before, took his place. No difference.

I knew my cuz was making strong drinks when I saw the one he made for my homie Josh. It was supposed to be an "Incredible Hulk," but it was brown. Big Trouble for the lightweight drinker. He'd already had a Smirnoff Ice and the combination only meant an embarassing moment was ready to ensue (we'll revisit this).

Neither my pops nor my cuz made me a drink because I had my own special bottle of Moet (YES, I was fakin).

My sister's boyfriend is there, knowing about my vow of celibacy is telling me he's taking me to the strip club. We're trying to keep Josh from looking at all my sister's friends before he get's slapped. Somebody asked me to make them some egg nog and I couldn't do it because by that time I didn't have much coordination left.

Then, the DJ started playing Go-Go and we just all decided to make a fool of ourselves in front of my family...especially Josh. He went out there on his own, beating his feet at first. We just laughed and got off the dance floor. Then the DJ started playing "Ruff it Off" by Junkyard. Mix that with the Champagne and Smirnoffs I had been drinking and I just didn't care anymore. I'm out on the floor doing the hee-haw and some more stuff.

Then everybody formed some type of dance circle and people took their turn in the middle. Josh...what can I say. He goes out there and some lady (I'd never seen her before) who was old enough to be his grandmother starts freaking him and they go down to the floor freaking each other...CLASSIC. I wish I videotaped it. It was the single greatest moment of the night.

Then the DJ started playing down south music and we were bouncing around in there like we'd lost our minds. We hadn't...we were just all drunk. Then the old lady's (see above) husband spilled his drink on me, blamed it on me and we then got into it. I had him outnumbered...he was in trouble. Nothing happened though.

That was the end of the party though and I must say I had a grand ole time. It was worth the trouble and the hangover EVERYBODY had the next day. The empanadas my sis made were good too.