Tonight seems so dark. Not because it is dark and the wind
is blowing fiercely but because another little one is gone. He is gone due to completely preventable
circumstances.
It is no secret that football stars are no heroes of mine,
in general. Many have only football success behind their name. Many are
wretched losers in the areas of life that count – in the area of character. And
tonight Adrian Peterson tops my biggest loser list. Oh the list is so very
long. Mercifully, the guy isn’t around to listen, but this is what I would like
him to know:
Adrian, you are a thief and a coward and a liar. Stealing
what wasn’t yours from someone you apparently had no intention of sticking
with. Bringing a child into the world that you wouldn’t even acknowledge
publicly is despicable. Bringing a child into the world when you weren’t going
to stick with his mama is cowardly.
If his mama wasn’t your type of gal, then it would have been
wise of you, to keep your pants on and take a long cold shower. If she did seem like a good idea at one time
but in the end was all a mistake, you were responsible for making sure that
little guy was in a safe place. And there is no excuse if you were too busy
playing games to notice.
At two, he was too young to notice he wasn’t the prized
offspring bearing your name, to be shown off in public. But you can guarantee
he would have noticed when he was four or fourteen. He would have asked about
his daddy. He was too precious to be treated like a transient, moving apartment
to apartment, house to house while his mama tries to see what she can get from
her latest fling. He bore the image of your Creator, Adrian and you are partly
responsible for him getting into the hands of a unrestrained monster.
You, undoubtedly, have everything handed to you on a silver
platter. Do you want for anything: food, drink, entertainment, pleasure? No
doubt, you say the word and people move and things happen. While you are living
on top of the pile because you know how to play a game, your little son was
left to the temper of a vile man in a house that wasn’t his own.
And shouldn’t you know very well about tragedy and mistakes –
you’ve seen your dad mess up, you’ve lost family members from violence. Wouldn’t
this have been your big chance to make the world a better place and not be a
part of the cycle? Your people are killing themselves, desperate for an
honorable, loyal, loving, faithful example. One who makes good on his mistakes.
One who stays for the long haul.
I want to choke at your trite words and actions. Put in a
quick trip to pretend you care. Did you even know what he looked like before he had the stuffing shaken and beat out of him? Did you
know if he liked ice cream at McDonalds or swinging at the park or Legos? Now
it’s too late to watch him ride bike or throw a football. But you barely miss a
beat in going back to your game on Sunday. I suspect the game has control of
you.
Yes, his mama gets some credit for his demise. She chose
poorly. Your baby mama’s boyfriend gets a chunk of credit for bringing his life
to an end. He lost control one too many times. But that little guy should have been under the
care of his daddy and not a stranger.
But you brought that little one into the world. And you
dropped the ball, Adrian.
