I woke up this morning and the Scripps spelling be was on ESPN. Obviously, I had stumbled into bed ready to watch some SportsCenter and drift into a beautiful whiskey dream. The Lakers and Dodgers had won. SportsCenter would not be painful for me. I hate watching my teams lose. I take it personally.
When I awoke to the sounds of the morning commute through Beverly Hills, I felt smarter. Almost as if I was learning in my sleep in a Brave New Worldian sense. Or Huxlian. Not sure what works best.
I checked my bed and floor for a book. It was possible I had sleep read (like sleepwalking but you read shit). Nope. Not a book within a stone’s throw.
Then I heard it. A childlike voice with a lisp asking “can you use it in a sentence”. Some french word that escapes me now. The absurd line of questioning. Can you use it in a sentence? Can you pronounce the word? Country of origin? Latin to French to Spanish to English. Can you pronounce the word? Can you use it in a sentence again?
I woke up not to Kobe getting all nasty with the Denver Thuggets. I woke up to this kid:
I was mesmerized and nervous. The kid has a terrible lisp and I was not sure he was sure of how to pronounce his word. He asked literally over 34 questions. For a moment, I thought he had forgotten he would eventually have to spell the word.
But this kid was straight up cold blooded. NAILED IT. Went and sat down, went about his day. Five minutes later Erin Andrews, who is hot sometimes, is interviewing a kid who is eating a cookie during the interview. I loved it.
Kind of puts things in perspective. This kid is so young he prefers a cookie to loaded, hot blonde reporter. And then you are inclined to call him an idiot, only he can spell every word on the planet.
I researched my homeboy Cusi Delamerced and here’s what I found out:
I don’t know much about how good a chess player is in 2nd grade, but I do know you don’t just go beating the “grandmaster” at anything. He’s the fucking grandmaster.
Just throwing it out there.