The greatest moment of my life happened yesterday. I mean, this was even better than if a truck full of Mad Dogs, Night Train and Thunderbird crashed into my house and I rode the glorious wave of bum wines all the way to Blackout City. Trying to keep up on my biz, I opened up Hotmail, expecting nothing more than the usual array of crap in my inbox. To my surprise, the first message hit me harder than that stripper when I asked her if she took a credit card. I stared at the screen, drooling and comatose for a few minutes before I could even open it.
I got an email from Rasheed Wallace. He inducted me into Sheed’s Squad, the official fan club of greatest basketball player ever.
I wish I could quote the long, rambling message verbatim, but aside from telling me that I now have a special email address where “you can send me feedback and suggestions or just drop me a message,” Rasheed jabbered about a lot of nothing. Here’s what he said about the playoffs:
“Now, as for basketball, I’m sure you know that it’s playoff time and you can be sure that my teammates and I are gonna leave it all on the court trying to win another ‘Ship. This is our time of year that we’ve worked towards the past several months and, for us, this is when the REAL season begins. I’m expecting you to keep up on all of our games and to make sure you yell out ‘SHEEEEEEEEEEEEED’ every time I touch the ball.”
Fan clubs are fairly pervasive throughout professional sports. For busy, big-name players, it’s a great way to update their fans on what’s going on. Plus, it can be a fun means for players to polish their image while having fun with each other. I found out that the president of David Ortiz’s fan club is the mother of his old friend, Doug Mientkiewicz. It’s tough to be unhappy when you pull down millions for playing a child’s game and you have a fan club that your friend’s mom just happens to run.
Of course, there are plenty of no-name players out there who have no business with their own clubs. Also, there are plenty of guys charging membership fees just to join, I assume because pulling down seven figures a year isn’t a reason to stop hustlin’. While Rasheed, pillar of caring and giving that he is, gave me the bro deal on his club, Keith Bulluck doesn’t let his fans in for free. Now, I’m sure that most of you are asking, “Who the snizz is Keith Bulluck?” just as I was. Bulluck is apparently a linebacker for the Tennessee Titans, but I only know him as a jackass who charges $25 a year just to be his fan. Of course, joining the club has some bitchin’ perks: “An Official laminated Keith Bulluck Membership ID badge” and a 10 percent discount off your first purchase from his online store! Of course, you can just wait a couple years for his career to implode and pick up his stuff off eBay for a nickel.
Aside from the Bullucks of the sports world, fan clubs rock. I can definitely fall asleep easier at night knowing that I’ll always be updated on the lives of my favorite players. But by far the best part of it all is that I now have a place to send all of my letters of adoration for Sheed.