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Baffoe: The Politics Of Getting Drafted

By Tim Baffoe--

(CBS) I've thought about someday running for public office, but I doubt it will ever happen. You're welcome, America.

Nothing's legally preventing me from doing so. Twitter is. My social media history ensures that there would never be a political debate I'd be allowed to stand straight-faced in. It'd be too easy for my opponent to cite Exhibit P and Q in questioning why I spelled "fart" in all caps or if the hashtag before it meant I was secretly recruiting for an anti-patriotic fart militia. And that's some of the tamer stuff I've clicked the "Tweet" button on while sober.

We live in an era of communication that years from now social scientists will note as a watershed of involuntary self-definition. "The Internet is forever," goes the maxim. As in "what you post on the Internet lasts forever." And forever shall you be judged, branded and hamstrung by a passing brainfart you typed at 2 a.m.

Newest Chicago Bulls forward Bobby Portis, a really great story as illustrated by a recent Bleacher Report profile, learned what forever meant during what was otherwise the happiest night of his life Thursday. Not long after the Bulls selected him with the 22nd pick of the NBA Draft, the Internet did what the Internet does and informed everyone how imperfect the pick is.

More than four years ago, a then-16-year-old Portis with a social media account did what 16-year-old boys with social media accounts do: spoke insults into the ether. On May 8, 2011, he tweeted, "Pau Gasol not as good as everybody think/say!" Then 11 days later, Portis sent a tweet in a conversation that included "Fxck D Rose and tha bulls! #teamheat over here".

By digging up those tweets, the public gets that quick, fleeting buzz of scandal and schadenfreude over the created uncomfortableness of a stranger. And a dude who just did all the right things to escape a hard childhood and give his family a better life gets to answer inevitable stupid questions about not being a Bulls fan in Little Rock, Ark, and not being a fan of then-Los Angeles Laker Gasol. And, above all, he gets to answer to being a dumb 16-year-old who thought people found his thoughts interesting, as all 16-year-olds are and do. Kids don't understand the mortality of their reputations.

To Portis' credit (and my chagrin), he acknowledged the faux scandal created by noble snickering Internet sleuths and apologized with a redeeming touch of humor.

Now Portis can go play professional basketball and maybe get a bit of hazing from teammates who certainly don't really care about those tweets. Larry Nance, Jr., drafted Thursday by the Lakers, on the other hand, has a bit more of an awkward initiation.

Oh, you have to wince for the kid there. Rather than his typical draft "Getting to know the new guy" narrative being his overcoming Crohn's disease, succeeding at a school not really known for hoops or being the son of a former NBA great, it's, "Not will the maniacal Kobe torture him, but how?"

Of course, one might think that the Bulls and Lakers would have done their due diligence on those respective Twitter accounts and had those tweets deleted prior to announcing their picks and preventing some minor headaches, but whatever.

When your job is incumbent on speaking to an audience, going into the Twitter attic for sadistic purposes is fair game. I take great pleasure in retweeting an old Donald Trump bit of gibberish completely out of context because that man's a clown and responsible for his words. Seeing Piers Morgan's "I want to die" tweet from 2012 show up in my newsfeed completely out of context about once a month will never get old because Piers Morgan sucks.

Visits from the Ghost of Twitter Past are fair game for adults who make a living from talking. Portis and Nance don't, despite any obligation athletes have to the media. Their scandal du jour also has to do with words of theirs — non-bigoted ones, mind you, in a time where Twitter has bitten many an athlete for ignorance regarding race, sexuality, etc. — from their childhoods that tickle our gossipy, spat-loving reflexes.

As though someone will say to Derrick Rose, "Hey, did you see what that guy said about you while he was getting his driver's license?" and expect Rose to respond, "I'll teach that mother-" instead of "The person who runs my Twitter account tells me that 16-year-olds tweet me insults all day every day." (Note: It's safe to assume Kobe Bryant will teach that mother-)

So this is the politics of being drafted in sports. You're being paid to play a sport well, but we just have to know if you talked smack about your new team in a cracking pubescent Internet voice years before. Because taking pleasure in the awkwardness of others feels so good, right? Even if it's somebody under 21. Just ask all the cool little Illini fans, still sore that Cliff Alexander didn't choose Illinois as his one-year mandatory NCAA destination, taking pleasure in his not being drafted Thursday night to cover their own insecurities over zero players from their favorite school being drafted, too. At least 19-year-old Alexander has kept his cool on Twitter.

High school and college coaches can employ accounts like Fieldhouse Media to nip any future backlash in the bud. I can lecture the Internet-stupid kids I teach repeatedly. But kids will always be Internet-stupid, just as we were all stupid as kids -- fortunately without the tattoo of social media.

But being a draft pick is still going to be treated like it's running for office anyway it seems. "Does this young adult who just got drafted really have his heart entirely invested in the Bulls?" is a column worse than this one waiting to happen somewhere.

The lesson?

In fact, I may just make that one of my focal points as a candidate for president in a few years with my former athlete running mate who'll score me bonus points.

How about "Baffoe/Jeter: Hindsight in 2020"? That sounds like a winning combo, doesn't it?

Tim Baffoe is a columnist for CBSChicago.com. Follow Tim on Twitter @TimBaffoe. The views expressed on this page are those of the author, not CBS Local Chicago or our affiliated television and radio stations.

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