Screw blogging. I need to become an agent. SHOW ME THE MONEY! From ESPN’s Page 2:
Everyone is talking about it but no one can believe it. No one wants to believe it. Ninety million dollars? For a teenager? For a snot-nosed kid who’s never even competed at the college level, let alone the pros? Utter insanity.
Yeah, well, I’m the agent for that snot-nosed kid. And I’m here to tell you, this endorsement contract makes so much sense that I guarantee within five years, $90 million will seem like a damn bargain for the winner of the National Spelling Bee.
Why, the revenue from his personal line of pocket protectors and “You are here” solar system T-shirts will cover the $90 million nut, easy. After that, the sales from the “Got Paste?” campaign will be pure profit.
Besides, this kid isn’t going to embarrass anybody down the road. His name is rock solid. There aren’t going to be any paternity suits. There aren’t going to be any bling-wearing posses getting pulled over in his Escalade for smoking weed. He’s a spelling bee champion, for God’s sake. He doesn’t have any friends, let alone a posse. And even with $90 million drawing interest in his savings account, I doubt if there are any girls out there who want to spend an afternoon watching “Matrix Reloaded” over and over with him. Let alone have sex.
Whoa. That last line was excessively harsh. My boy IS gonna’ get some play now that he’s famous. I can’t spell worth crap (as evidenced plenty of times on this blog) or else I’d be living the thug life just like he’s about to.
That’s just the way this business works. I’m not proud of it. Blame it on television. Ever since they began broadcasting the National Spelling Bee on TV, everybody wants a piece of the action. And why shouldn’t the kid get his slice, just because he’ll wind up blowing it on Clearasil?
Trust me, you don’t know the half of it — and you don’t want to, either. I’ve seen parents send a six-year-old to timeout for three hours just because she didn’t know whether “catsup” or “ketchup” was the accepted spelling. The sad thing is, both spellings are.
Gotta’ get rich or die trying.
