You don’t need to give a shit about how well Derrick Rose walks when he’s 50. Honestly, you don’t. I can’t guarantee you that he doesn’t care about how well you walk when you’re 50. In fact, hoping Derrick Rose will hit a single jumpshot ever means that you’ve already cared more about Derrick Rose than he will ever care about you.
And why should he care about you? You are a stranger. You have an insignificant impact on his life. If you buy his jersey, he gets a tiny bit richer. If you vote for him for the All-Star game, you are one of many people who voted for him. And If nobody votes for him for the All-Star, well, that doesn’t really matter either. You have close to nothing to do with his life.
Last April, I ran the Boston Marathon. I no way wanted to run the Boston Marathon. I didn’t want to ever run any marathon in my entire life, but it was a dream of my father’s that we run it together one day. He’s been running marathons for over 30 years now, and he runs Boston every year. He cares about it more than anyone I know personally cares about anything.
A little over a month before Boston, I pulled my hamstring, and it was pretty bad. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of sitting this one out and running the next one. The fall before Boston, my father had a terrible bike accident where he broke his hip bone and shoulder. He had to have surgery to repair the hip. The shoulder will actually be broken the rest of his life.
The doctor told him he may not ever run again — let alone a marathon, but he pushed his rehab enough to get in shape to run Boston. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but this meant something to him. He was going to run it with me, and it was the Boston after the bombing (he was just a few blocks away when the bomb went off in 2013).
He wasn’t fast. He may never qualify for another Boston Marathon again. I knew this. He knew this. So we both ran Boston when we shouldn’t have — it was our last chance to do this together.
It’s seven months later, and my hamstring still isn’t right. I tore it up in the second half of the course when the hills get treacherous. I’m young enough that I assume I’ll be able to race on it again. Probably not soon, but some day. My dad is okay, I guess, but he will never be able to run like he used to — the bike accident made sure of that.
There’s nothing heroic about what either of us did. I think my dad would say it was worth it because he dreamed of running Boston together since I started running. It was fine for me because I honestly don’t give a shit about running anymore. If it ruins my body, it ruins my body. At least I made my dad happy.
You probably wonder what any of this has to do with Derrick Rose. Good question. I know I just took the long way around to circle back to my point.
I wrecked my body for free doing a sport I didn’t even care about. Rose makes an asinine amount of money a year playing a game I assume he thinks is fun.
No, I’m not another person here to tell you that Rose gets paid a bunch of money, so he should do his fucking job. I don’t really care if Rose plays or doesn’t play. Maybe I would care if I were a Bulls fan, but I’m not so I don’t.
I’m here to tell you that Derrick Rose is having problems plenty of people in the world have. He’s gotten injured a few times. Badly, even. So have other strangers who aren’t professional basketball players. You gasped about Paul George’s broken leg, but do you care enough about broken legs to visit non-millionaire strangers in a hospital who broke their legs? I would assume not.
How teary eyed do you get when one of the guys from the “Jackass” TV show gets injured? They’re also doing something they love in an injury plagued profession. They also get paid too much money for that job.
This obsession with the well being for millionaires is appalling. I get being upset that you can’t see a cool player play — especially if he’s on your favorite team. That affects your life. But I cannot stress how much these players don’t care about you. Even when you get injured.
I get it. You want to prove you care more about stuff than other people. You want to have the moral higher ground. Good for you. The rest of the assholes who are trying to act like they care the most are very impressed.
I’m not going to tell you how to feel. I’m not going to tell you how to be a fan or a person.
But me? I’m not going to feel sorry for a millionaire. I’m here in this world, trying to just survive. Rose doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care when I get injured. He doesn’t care how I will walk when I’m 50. He doesn’t care how my dad walks now (it’s not very pretty). I don’t expect him to.
Derrick Rose and I? We’re even. Except Rose has millions of dollars and I don’t.