Okay. Seriously. The next person who yells “Hey, Devern, get your hand off your sack” from the stands is going to die. I mean I will kill the motherf–ker — male or female, child or grandma — with my bare hands. And possibly a big-ass hunk of chain.
Also, ran into Tito at the Arby’s downtown. Guy had no idea who I was, and even asked me if I could refill the horsey sauce dispenser. So that making the club thing doesn’t look so good right now.