I Should Have Been a Sports Star

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Growing up I really wanted to play sports for a living. My children are in the same boat, pretending to be Jeter or A-Rod or Marshawn Freaking Lynch.

It hit the skids for me right around the time that I figured out that most of my friends were faster, stronger, and could jump higher than me. I gave up trying to be the center-fielder for the Yankees right around the time I turned 8 years old. What a shame when a dream dies.

Yet I never imagined that sports stars would get such treatment. Imagine this: Say I'm driving home from a bar on Saturday night (Sunday AM) and I run down a woman in the road. As little-known author Cliff Fazzolari, I most likely would not make it home before the cops grabbed me.

Yet what if I did. When do you think the cops, armed with my license plate number and a bunch of eye witnesses would show up to bust me? I'm guessing before church on Sunday, right?

Marshawn Lynch's vehicle was involved in such a mishap on Saturday night. Did the cops knock on his door on Sunday? Yes, but no one answered - so they left.

So, Lynch was arrested on Monday, you might ask - uh, nope! Tuesday? No again - but the police spokeman claimed that they had been in touch with Lynch's lawyers.

Lynch? He's not talking. Neither confirming nor denying.

Back to me - the cop at my door on Sunday AM most likely would not have turned away if I told him that I didn't have a comment. He most certainly would have returned with cuffs in tow on Monday.

I guess it's too bad I couldn't run and jump - perhaps if I was able to catch a freaking ball I could have positioned myself above the law.

Hell, even OJ got away with murder. I guess the Lynch rundown of an innocent woman isn't all that big a deal. Now he can swap stories with the Bills draft pick who was busted for battery on his girlfriend and pistol-whipping his father.

Where have all the heroes gone?

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