Well, well, well, so Vick’s house is now on the market, all eight bedrooms and 11 bathrooms. 11 bathrooms, heck it’d take a week to use all of those and you’d still have four that were clean, let alone the cost of keeping them all stocked with t paper. As of this time, 12:13 p.m., so far they’ve had two prospective buyers, neither of them interested, but probably horribly curious about just what did make this guy tick. Let me say that I was an absolute fan of Vick, was, of course, being the operative word. I was at the Dome when he supermanned into the end zone against Carolina. I was at the Rams playoff slaughter in ’04.
I was watching the game when he split two Vikings and raced 50 plus yards in overtime. And I barely dared to believe that snowy night when he beat Green Bay almost single-handedly. I, too, mourned when he went down against the Ravens and waited in eager anticipation for his next highlight film through that dreadful season. But then…..well, you know what happened so why hash it over again for the 10 billionth time. My point is that while cruising through AJC.com I came across an opportunity to “tour” vick’s home and although I had sworn the guy off vowing never to mention his name or speak of him again I found myself totally against my will, yep, taking the tour.
There are only a couple of things remarkable about Vick’s house which this writer deems worthy of mention. Really and truly it wasn’t the size and opulence that 3.5 million dollars will get you at Sugarloaf, but rather the size and the emptiness of lost promise that pressed on my consciousness. The woeful, despicable, unmentionable things that took place there, the loss of innocent life with the promise that old lady karma wouldn’t forget and by god I think we can all agree that she indeed does have a fine memory.
Also there was the large blue and yellow number seven embroidered in the carpet in the main entrance foyer. Wait a minute. Let’s see. Va Tech, maroon and gold. No, not them. Atlanta Falcons, red and black and paying him millions. No, not one of those. So the question remains to me just who in the hell is blue and yellow? See where I’m heading? Seems to me that if Arthur Blank had just handed me 120 plus million and I was thinking about building a self-absorbing shrine to myself, gee, I might have at least used Falcons colors and, what the hay, thrown in a Falcons logo for good luck. So where was this guy’s head. Obviously not in Flowery Branch.
Finally there’s the library. Michael Vick’s library. Look this word up if you don’t know it, but saying Michael Vick and the word library may just be the biggest oxymoron of all time. Folks, it’s two stories tall, not just one, built of mahogany and god knows what other precious wood, it has a 50 foot long inlaid conference table going down the middle and I guarantee you there hasn’t been a book other than perhaps Captain Underwear or some dogeared copy of Mad magzine in that room since the day it was conceived on the blueprints. I’ll donate a thousand dollars to the charity of your choice if you can show me a picture of that room full of books containing the slightest hint of intellectual property.
So now he’s getting out and, hey, he’s done his time and paid his debt so let the man alone and with that I couldn’t agree more. He’s paid, lord knows, he’s paid and him and Lady Charma are just about even. However, whether there’s anything left on the tab for the great beyond I reckon depends on whether those particular Powers that be are dog lovers, but for me, hey, Mike, you reaaallllly blew it, dude. You REAALLLLY blew it. In the worst kind of way.