Sometimes sports make me sad.
I was halfway through a dayshift at my waiting job Wednesday when my roommate called to tell me Karl Malone - my all-time favorite player on my favorite team in my favorite sport - had just announced his retirement.
I was born in Salt Lake City and grew up rooting for the Jazz. During high school, when the team was the best it has ever been, Malone played a key role in what I can honestly say were some of the best - and worst - nights of my life.
When John Stockton hit a pull-up three in Charles Barkley's face, sending Utah to the 1997 finals, I was alone in my house, jumping around with my hands in the air like I'd just won the Powerball.
When Michael Jordan pushed off - yes, I'll whine "push off" till I croak - and nailed the championship clinching shot in 1998, I pounded the fluff from our best throw pillow and fought back tears.
But while Malone is retiring as second all-time in points scored and minutes played, he is still a player many my age refuse to appreciate. I can vividly recall a good friend of mine saying, "It's so funny that Malone isn't (expletive) because he can't win a championship."
Get content from The Daily Lobo delivered to your inbox
The way many chastise Malone for not winning a title is indicative of how far-fetched fans' views are on athletes in general. We often forget superstar athletes are simply men. We hold them to insanely high standards and worship or revile them, but they're really just guys with great jobs.
How can we fault Malone for not winning a championship when he's accomplished so much in his basketball career?
He poured his heart out on the court, playing every single game like he expected to die the next morning. He kept his body in unbelievable shape and used the power in his arms and legs and chest not just to score points - though he obviously did that in droves - but to defend better than any power forward in the game.
He spent his off-court time doing the things he loved. He would hunt and fish in Alaska or drive big rigs and Harleys around the country.
And we here in Albuquerque know he also put his money into successful businesses, such as his car dealership.
Call him dirty, and I would argue he was merely physical. Say he sold out his final year when he went to play with the Lakers, and I would point out that he was the heart and soul of a quality team for 18 straight years, then jumped at the chance to join three other future Hall of Famers and make some history.
He was an immensely successful man who, much like you and me and every single person we've ever met or known, didn't win an NBA championship.
I'm sad to see him go.
