I May Be Wrong But I Doubt It - Charles Barkley [0]
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Introduction by Michael Wilbon
What’s Really on My Mind
Keeping It Real
Caretakers of the Game
Mom and Grandma
“You’re Always Saying Stuff That Inflames People”
Life in the Public Eye
Being Rich
Scams and Double Standards
The Worst Thing About Playing Professional Sports
Tiger and the Masters
If You Don’t Win a Championship . . .
“I Am Not a Role Model”
Making a Difference . . . Politics and Business
Home and Away
A Unique Fraternity
Television and Hollywood
Bobby Knight’s Olympics
A Dream Team
Every Minute of Every Day Cannot Be Serious
Young Players Don’t Get It
God Doesn’t Have a Favorite Team
My Dad
September 11
Moses Was Right
If the Playing Is All You’re Going to Do, You’ve Missed the Boat
About the Authors
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
I want to thank all of my family and friends who have supported me and helped me to achieve great things. I also want to thank my enemies for keeping me motivated. I’ve had a wonderful life and I thank God every day.
Introduction
Michael Wilbon
The trouble is, the greatest athletes in these times usually aren’t all that interested in expression, and the ones who have so much to say aren’t the ones we want to hear. But Charles Barkley has always been both: compelling on the court and fascinating when holding court. Basketball has always been just the half of it with Barkley, which is why two years into athletic retirement he is still irresistible.
What professional athlete in the last twenty years participated more fully, peeled back all the layers, and loved it any more than Barkley? The games, the riches, the teammates, the foes, the confrontations, the adoration, the climb, the fall, the verbal sparring, the needling, the provoking, the joking, the challenging, the indulging; we can’t imagine Barkley without all of it, all of the time.
We marveled when a man his height scored 40 points and grabbed 20 rebounds in a game. We laughed when he asked the devoutly religious A. C. Green, “If God’s so good, how come he didn’t give you a jump shot?” We cringed when he said an Angolan Olympic basketball player might have been carrying a spear. We wondered if he was serious when he said he would consider a career in politics, as a Republican. Usually, we were unaware when he stuffed wads of bills in the bag of a homeless woman in Spain, or gave a million bucks to his high school, or changed a stranger’s tire, drove him home, then waited until the guy’s kids arrived from school so they would believe it really was Charles Barkley who changed their daddy’s tire.
Some folks loved it, some hated it when he said parents shouldn’t depend on athletes to be their kids’ role models. The folks at PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) gritted their teeth when Barkley went on TV, eating an all-beef hamburger, and said the only thing animals were good for was eating and wearing.
He’s never been one for political correctness. He has carried a gun for protection, but never run with a posse. During the Gulf War, when most of the players tended to keep their views to themselves, Barkley came to the NBA All-Star interview room wearing a cap that said, “Fuck Iraq.” He is not for the easily offended, those stuck in neutral, and certainly those without a generous sense of humor.
One day last spring, while Barkley and I were talking for the purposes of writing this book, a woman walked into an upscale and very adult restaurant in the ultra-fashionable section of Atlanta known as Buckhead. With her were a dozen twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls, their heads newly coiffed and braided and teased to the tune of $50 a head from a group trip to the salon. As she greeted Barkley and told of her daughter’s group birthday present, he said, “Whatever happened to Chuck E. Cheese? Ain’t no Dairy Queens in Atlanta?” Everybody sitting within earshot smiled appreciatively, wishing they could have expressed