Sterling Sharpe, Ass of Asses

This article by Ron Aiken in the Columiba Free Times hasn't got a lot of pub yet, but I am sure it will as soon as the message boards get a hold of it. Please read and if you have a Sterling Sharpe story please share.

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Free Times Issue #22.06 - 2/11/09 - 2/17/09

Sterling Sharpe, Ass of Asses
By Ron Aiken


To say former USC and NFL standout wide receiver Sterling Sharpe is a jerk is like saying New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick is curt. It’s accurate, but it doesn’t begin to describe the depths of self-righteousness their egos have plumbed.

Sharpe isn’t just an ass; he’s a colossal beacon of as#!holitude that can be seen from space. By comparison, he makes Dick Cheney look like Drew Carey, Joe Stalin like Yakov Smirnoff.

Why the peculiar venom, you ask? You might think I have a problem with his not wanting his number to re-enter circulation, even if it was to a prized recruit. That’s not the case. I understand and even sympathize with his position. And I also understand that because of the steroid era, Sharpe wasn’t welcomed back with open arms as he should have been and still harbors a grudge, though he clearly also loves USC.

It’s simply that I have no patience for athletes who look down on the very fans whose revenue and loyalty have supported them throughout their lives. Fans pay their salaries through the money they spend on paraphernalia, tickets and the like, fans cheer for them, pray for them when they’re injured and wish them well for the rest of their lives long after their fleeting careers are over.

Like many people, I have my own story of Sharpe refusing an autograph coldly, and before that moment of my life (I was in college at USC working at Peaches Records and Tapes and he often would come in to buy music) you could not have found a bigger fan of Sharpe than this guy. But my story is hardly isolated, and I’ve since spoken to and read reports from many, many passionate fans who dared to approach Sharpe while he was in public only to be turned away insultingly before their children’s eyes.

When you’re a jerk to fans, to caring fathers and children, you, Sir, are an asshole of the worst kind that sports success can produce in men.

When you start believing you’re better than a fan or an institution or another human being, or that you don’t have to abide by all the rules of celebrity, just the ones you enjoy, you’ve become someone with a soul as vacant as your head is large.

I don’t care, and neither do most fans, that he was a royal ass to the media, which he surely was. There’s always going to be a certain segment of fans who love when athletes — Barry Bonds, Gary Sheffield, Eddie Murray, etc. — stick it to nosy reporters. I get that; there’s quite the long history to draw upon for inspiration in every sport.
But it does not excuse it.

In Sharpe’s protest over his jersey, he told 107.5’s Jay Philips and Duce Staley that should the university decide to un-retire his jersey against his wishes, his “heart would be ripped out.”

Seriously? I wonder just how he thinks the fans he spurns feel when they walk away from him? Has he no conception of the damage he does every single time he turns his back on people who have spent years worshiping him? How does he think the kids feel when they’re refused the small courtesy of an autograph even while wearing his jersey?

Personally, I’d love nothing better than for Sharpe to feel that way, if for just once in his life. And I almost — almost — wish the university would un-retire the number just to serve Sharpe a plate of humble pie.

But no, Sharpe is that rare individual who can convince you that karma doesn’t exist, because surely, if it did, his arms would have fallen off, his nose rotted from his face and his legs become useless strands of spaghetti. Truly, if ever anyone needed a karmic bitch-slap, it’s this self-righteous, ungrateful asswipe. Well, I don’t work at Peaches anymore, and fate has shoved me into a position where I can call a spade a spade, an ass an ass and a worthless human being I wouldn’t give two sh#!s for precisely that. Who knows, in that light, maybe karma has a chance after all.