Until this past weekend I'd never even heard the name Donald Sterling before. Sure, I've seen men like him before - the superiority, the arm candy, the demeanor. But I'd never heard of him. I've heard men talk like him before - hell, I've heard way worse, and from men who didn't so much as get a slap on the wrist.
Now, of course, thanks to his 2.5 million dollar fine and a lifetime ban (at 80 years old no less), I've heard of him. More interesting, I've heard him. His voice. On tape. And as a host of hungry media figures pounce on Sterling's primed flesh I am left wondering why not a single one of them is asking the question: "Why was his girlfriend seemingly wearing a wire?" I guess we'll have to wait for all this to get to court before words like "entrapment" and "set-up" are uttered, and that's fine. He'll have his day in court, and the NBA obviously had to act, in accordance to the NBA constitution. (How I wish our courts acted as swiftly and employed the "maximum allowable punishment" in accordance to the actual Constitution, but I digress.)
I kept hearing the word "black" from every TV anchor's lips, and from Sterling's own, but the color we really should be talking about is green. And I don't just mean money. I mean the green-eyed-monster. I think that's where Sterling's real issue is.