"e;"e; I like a good story well told. That is the reason I am sometimes forced to tell myself."e;"e; Mark Twain. This is the impetus for this book. I'm a story teller. The fact that the stories unveiled here are about professional basketball players and coaches merely raises the level of interest. We are a society that worships at the feet of celebrity. Right or wrong the images and glorification of these celebrities is normally all we are permitted to see. "e;"e;7 Foot Man-Eating Chicken"e;"e; is designed to take the reader a little deeper. To see famous and borderline famous athletes and coaches as real people with real attributes and real flaws. In other words, they are just like us, only a foot or so taller. After all sports were created originally just for exercise. Back in 1891 when Dr. James Naismith invented the game of basketball I suspect he never thought it would become the multi billion "e;"e;Big Business"e;"e; we see today. Certainly the thought of his students playing as a form of "e;"e;Entertainment"e;"e; for anyone but themselves never popped into his mind. Things have clearly morphed into those areas. If someone sees an opportunity to make a little cash off something, there's no harm in that. If you put out a product that is interesting enough so that folks will pay to see it, that's terrific. Some of my observations revolve around the disingenuous way these sporting events are being marketed. We can't even tell where the marketing ends and the games begin. This nicely brings us to the very title of this book. In 1841, P.T. Barnum, who is possibly the greatest showman in our history, purchased Scudder's American Museum. Located in New York City at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street, it was renamed Barnum's American Museum. He owned and operated it until 1865 when it burnt to the ground in one of the most spectacular fires in New York City history. Barnum filled it with many strange exhibits and educational attractions. There were dioramas, panoramas, scientific instruments, modern appliances, a flea circus, a loom operated by a dog, a rifle range, glass blowers, waxworks, Siamese twins, and on and on. It cost 25 cents to get in. Barnum realized that people we lingering too long in the Museum and he needed to "e;"e;turn over"e;"e; the crowd to get some fresh paying customers through the turnstiles. His solution for this was to post signs saying: "e;"e;This way to the Egress!"e;"e; Not knowing that "e;"e;Egress"e;"e; was another word for "e;"e;Exit"e;"e;, people followed the signs to what they assumed was just another tremendous exhibit and found themselves outside. Barnum had another exhibit called the "e;"e;6 Foot Man Eating Chicken!"e;"e; No one could even imagine this. First of all, a 6-foot chicken in and of itself is an attraction. Throw the "e;"e;man-eater"e;"e; angle in there and you've got to go, especially for 25 cents! When the exhibit opened after three months of advertising the line was around the block. One by one, they filed in. Once inside, they found a 6-foot tall man sitting in a chaireating chicken! The people had been snookered. They laughed. Most people don't mind laughing at themselves. Barnum got over on them and they would happily come back, especially for only 25 cents. This "e;"e;snooker"e;"e; reminded me of how professional sports has been "e;"e;snookering"e;"e; the public for some time now. I simply added a foot of height to accommodate for the increased size of an NBA player. Advertise one thing and give 'em something else. The problem is that it's not as funny when the price of taking your family to one of these sporting events no longer costs a quarter and you went expecting to see an actual sporting event. So what's my problem? While I admire the accomplishments of P. T. Barnum, I also realize that he came as advertised: A Showman. He never claimed to be a coach/teacher or an administrator or anything else associated with athletics. When he "e;"e;snookered"e;"e; you, he was doing what he warned
