Maybe it’s just a symptom of severe nicotine withdrawal to cascade through the abstract.

Maybe not.

Maybe what I am thinking is not even worth repeating. But here I find myself, beside a ghost in a tinfoil hat breathing asthmatically in my ear. Are things going better in the Doughty negotiations than Dean wants us to believe?

Two separate factors lead my brain down this convoluted trail. The first bramble my pants catch on shows me that the closer we get to camp and the more we hear of offers being declined by Drew, the more the fan base directs its anxiety squarely on Doughty’s shoulders. One can only defer anger towards an agent for so long. Team first, as they say. Third parties, like wheels and the second guy in the wrong kind of threesome, suck. Public perception does mean something. You can subscribe to the belief that the plutocracy tells the masses what to think but if you must cling to capitalism then you also must accept that mass opinion dictates where money is spent. Having the public on your side is never a bad thing. But now the cut on my leg is bleeding rather profusely. Thoughts dance on feet and on wings. Where the hell was I going?

Another patch of dastardly sharp branches tear at my flesh. We heard lots of information about Doughty. That information went viral. Then the information essentially stopped. If it was entirely wrong, why care at all? Tidbits sprout in many colors from many different terrains. He will sign by camp. No, he won’t. They’re close, they’re far. Sounds contemptuous, but they swear it’s not while, at the same time, vowing not to swear at all. Where do the vested interests lie?

And now the Kings consume LGK ( The two most popular places for the Kings online fans swallowed up under the safe and warm marsupial belly folds of the organ-eye-zation. Don’t tell me public opinion isn’t important. Control is always important.

Who will control Doughty’s future? The Kings, Drew or his agent? Years and NTCs seem to be of bigger concern than cash money. Not ordinary for sports negotiations but seemingly more applicable and appalling in this situation. Control is everything. Keeping the public guessing is control. Can Dean control Drew? Not in the end. Can he control the public? He can try. Who, or what, can he control?

There is now coagulated blood clotted in my crusted eyelids. It’s hard to see. There is a quiet man in the distance. Many loud specters to either side. Bobby is of the latter. Clamoring and cajoling and cavorting, flapping peacock feathers at the emperors in their new clothes. The one at the center says nary a word, as the rest convince themselves of the quiet one’s convictions. When the quiet speak, the loud listen and the smartest man in the room reveals a mushroom. When we are all offered a bite, everything is forgotten and the quiet controls the noisy.

I really need a cigarette.