A Dolphins coach snorted white powder off his desk and other news of the week The Week That Was Oct. 9-13

Monday 10.09.17

Miami Dolphins offensive line coach Chris Foerster — a wild boy — recorded himself snorting multiple lines of white powder off his desk, telling a woman who is not his wife, “I miss you a lot” and that he wishes he could snort the white powder with her but “you have to keep that baby,” and letting the woman, a Las Vegas model, know he wishes he could lick the white powder off her private parts. A Texas official who last month referred to two black prosecutors as “a couple of n—–s” rescinded his resignation letter from Friday because, according to an assistant district attorney, “he is unstable.” Philadelphia 76ers center Joel Embiid earned a $148 million contract for 31 days of work in three years. Studio executive Harvey Weinstein begged his Hollywood friends to “send a letter … backing me, getting me the help and time away I need, and also stating your opposition to the board firing me” before he was eventually fired by the board of The Weinstein Company. The vice president of diversity and inclusion at Apple, which took four years to make black emojis, said that “there can be 12 white, blue-eyed blond men in a room and they’re going to be diverse too.” Former NFL head coach Mike Ditka, who is 77 years old and not a reader of books, said that “there has been no oppression in the last 100 years that I know of.”

Tuesday 10.10.17

Former NFL receiver Steve Smith Sr., making clear that he respects “my elders,” told Ditka to “go sit ur dumb a$$ down somewhere.” President Donald Trump, known tax expert, threatened to “change tax law” for the NFL despite the league dropping its tax-exempt status two years ago. The president also challenged Secretary of State Rex Tillerson to an IQ contest. A Texas high school, still not quite getting it, will change its name from Robert E. Lee High School to Legacy of Educational Excellence High School, or LEE High School. In news that will affect absolutely no one because surely no one visits that site, hackers have attempted to spread malware through adult site Pornhub. The Colorado Springs, Colorado, police used a robot to blow a hole in the house of a man who had fired a gun in response to a 13-year-old boy … breaking a tree branch. Fox News host Sean Hannity, who welcomed former Fox News host Bill O’Reilly on his show two weeks ago, called out liberals for their “massive, inexcusable hypocrisy” in light of the sexual harassment allegations against Weinstein, a longtime Democratic donor. Complex Media, reinventing the wheel, gave former adult entertainer Mia Khalifa and former gun-toting NBA player Gilbert Arenas an online sports talk show. Media mogul Oprah Winfrey, laughing at us poors, once deposited a $2 million check at a bank just to do it.

Wednesday 10.11.17

Oklahoma City Thunder forward Carmelo Anthony yells, “Get the f— out of here” when he grabs rebounds. Fans of hip-hop artist Eminem, known for controversial lyrics depicting rape, substance abuse, domestic violence and anti-gay slurs, have finally had it with the rapper after he dissed Trump during a BET rap cypher. New Boston Celtics guard Kyrie Irving, who will be in for a rude awakening after his first bad game in the city, said moving to Boston is “playing in a real, live sports city.” Weinstein, currently accused of sexually harassing or assaulting over a dozen women over the past 30 years, is somehow “profoundly devastated” that his wife of 10 years announced she is leaving him. Dallas Cowboys players, drawing a line in the sand, played Eminem’s freestyle rap, in which he calls Trump a “b—-,” and rapper YG’s “FDT,” an acronym for “F— Donald Trump,” in the team locker room after a meeting with owner Jerry Jones regarding kneeling during the national anthem. Secretary of the Interior Ryan Zinke, working for an administration that approved the Dakota Access pipeline, invoked “native Indians” while arguing against the removal of Confederate monuments, saying that “when you try to erase history, what happens is you also erase how it happened and why it happened and the ability to learn from it.”

Thursday 10.12.17

Oakland Raiders running back Marshawn Lynch said it would be an “unfair advantage” to play tennis against Serena Williams, and when asked if it was because Williams was pregnant, Lynch responded, “No, n—a, that it’s Serena Williams, m—–f—–.” Texas A&M, Jay-Z-level shooting out of its league, is interested in poaching head coach James Franklin from 6-0 Penn State. Michael “Thriller Eyes” Jordan says he smokes six cigars a day. Russian agents, who have apparently never heard of Grand Theft Auto, used Pokémon Go to “exploit racial tensions” in America ahead of the 2016 presidential election. Trump supporters Diamond and Silk responded to Eminem’s anti-Trump freestyle with their own, telling the rapper to “stop crying like a baby and a little b—-.” The owners of the home featured in Breaking Bad have erected a 6-foot-high fence because fans of the former AMC show keep throwing pizzas on their roof. Jane Skinner Goodell, the wife of NFL commissioner Roger Goodell and an apparent Kevin Durant fan, has been using an anonymous Twitter account on websites like NBC Sports and ESPN.com to defend her husband. The makers of adult films SpongeKnob SquareNuts and Strokémon announced plans to create an erotic spoof of popular adult cartoon Rick and Morty aptly called … well, you can guess. Rep. Jim Lucas (R-Indiana), an idiot, thinks journalists should be licensed like gun owners because “if I was as irresponsible with my handgun as the media has been with their keyboard, I’d probably be in jail.”

Friday 10.13.17

The Jacksonville Jaguars defensive backfield is deciding between “Alcatraz,” “Pick-fil-a” and “Jackson 5” for its new nickname. Online residential rental company Airbnb, an alternative to hotels, will open its own apartment building to be used for tenants to rent out their space, much like hotels. NFL Hall of Famer O.J. Simpson, fresh out, is already, ironically, doing memorabilia signings. New York Giants coach Ben McAdoo, leading a team that was 0-5 when it had the best receiver in the league, is somehow flummoxed that “there is nobody giving us a chance in hell to win” their next game. Jones, the Cowboys owner who told his players they were forbidden from kneeling during the anthem, said running back Ezekiel Elliott, accused of domestic violence, was not treated “in a fair way” after being suspended by the league. Hip-hop artist Waka Flocka Flame, who once said that if he could go back and finish high school he would study geometry, and is definitely black, said, “I’m damn sure not black. You’re not gonna call me black.”

With ‘The Rundown,’ Robin Thede adds a smart new perspective to late-night Feminist, anti-racist, quick-moving and funny, the premiere on BET showed plenty of promise

It’s only one episode, but I can’t wait to see what else is in the works for The Rundown with Robin Thede, BET’s newest foray into late-night comedy.

The Rundown, a weekly show hosted by former The Nightly Show with Larry Wilmore head writer Robin Thede, premiered Thursday night with a barrage of sharp, sophisticated, fearless jokes that took aim at the NFL and chronic traumatic encephalopathy, Ben Carson, Betsy DeVos, Ballers, Eminem and, of course, the president.

“Whatever happened to civility?” she asks in response to a clip of a cable news anchor asking the same because Eminem called the president a racist.

“President Trump.”

Thede made television history when she became the first black woman to be head writer of a late-night show when she joined The Nightly Show. Now, she joins Samantha Bee (TBS) and Chelsea Handler (Netflix) to form a triumvirate of women in late-night comedy. Given the dearth of women in late-night — for a while before Full Frontal With Samantha Bee, the late-night comedy landscape was just a sea of testosterone — Thede’s splash is broadly welcome, including by Bee. The Full Frontal host sent Thede and her staff celebratory treats to mark the newest addition to the 11 p.m. time slot.

Instagram Photo

Like Bee, Thede stands in the middle of a modern-looking set to deliver a fast-paced monologue set off with visual aids. (The shows are produced by the same company, Jax Media.) For the premiere, she rocked an expertly tailored velvet green pantsuit, black camisole and heels. With its weekly schedule, The Rundown feels primed to offer the sort of insights that are harder to achieve when you’re churning out four or five episodes per week. But like Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and Full Frontal, The Rundown will have to scramble to cover can’t-miss stories that break within hours of the show’s taping.

Thursday night’s premiere was a mix of taped segments and newsy commentary. Thede opened with a sketch in which she played a woman in a restaurant who starts out reading Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me but ends up desperately trying to catch the romantic attention of a guy who turns out to be a black Trump supporter. “He’s sell-out my-principles-fine,” Thede proclaims as she tosses the book in favor of a MAGA hat, writes “LOCK HER UP” on a napkin and magically produces a tiki torch. When that’s not enough to overcome his general repulsion to black women, Thede pulls out the big artillery: a tattoo gun and an artist to inscribe her with a Confederate flag. She finally catches his eye, but closer inspection reveals a wedding ring.

“The Rundown with Robin Thede” episode 101.

Eric Liebowitz/BET

“Ugh,” she says to the tattoo artist. “Can you turn that into a Kaepernick jersey or something?”

The show also featured a taped bodega concert from rapper Duckwrth that reminded me just how much I miss the musical segments from Chappelle’s Show. Thede closed with her best joke, a bit drawn from former first lady Michelle Obama’s recent appearance at the Pennsylvania Conference for Women in Philadelphia. Thede said Obama “dragged You-Know-Who by his bad lace front” next to a screen deeming her “First Lady of Shady.”

It takes time for late-night shows, especially weekly ones, to find their grooves. But Thede’s strong first night left me eager to see what else she and her writing staff have in store. From the first show, I’m comfortable extrapolating this much: It’ll be black as hell, and it’ll almost certainly be funny too.

Rapper Dupre ‘Doitall’ Kelly now wants to do politics and join the Newark, New Jersey, City Council Member of ’90s group Lords of the Underground says arts and culture can create jobs

It was the early ’90s. 1993 to be exact. Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” was top of the charts. “Whoomp There It Is” by Tag Team was rocking clubs. “That’s The Way Love Goes” by Janet Jackson was the swoon fest of probably the decade. And this was all according to Billboard‘s top charts. Meanwhile, BET crowned Lords of the Underground, a hip-hop trio from Newark, New Jersey, as the best rap group for hits from their album released March 6 of that same year, Here Come the Lords.

Twenty-four years later, group member Dupre “Doitall” Kelly has traveled the world, achieved fame, and is now bringing his talent back to his hometown. He is running for another title — an at-large council seat in Newark. If elected next year, he will be the first platinum-selling hip-hop artist to be elected to public office in a major U.S. city.

Newark is no stranger to being led by men within the arts community, as poet Ras Baraka, son of the late Amiri Baraka, serves as mayor. Kelly is a native of Newark’s West Ward, where he attended public school and honed his craft as a rapper. He attended Shaw University, a historically black university in Raleigh, North Carolina, where he became a member of the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity. With his group he earned platinum and gold success, and as an actor he appeared in hit shows such as The Sopranos, Oz and Law & Order.

He currently serves as co-founder and executive director of 211 Community Impact, a nonprofit that promotes literacy, good health and giving. Alongside a host of other organizations in early 2017, Kelly helped raise funds to purchase a lift bus for children at John F. Kennedy School in Newark.

After a meeting with his campaign staff, Kelly spoke with The Undefeated about his run for City Council.


How did you decide to engage in politics?

My decision was made because of my journey through living the hip-hop culture and seeing how it has grown into a culture that influences and inspires the world. I decided, why not use it to help my community on an elected-official level?

Why is it important for hip-hop to have representation in government?

It is super important to have someone at the table of politics that understands and speaks the language of the community. For the last 20 years, hip-hop culture has been the most popular on this planet and is indeed a movement by definition. Hip, meaning in the now, and hop being a form of movement. If looked at that way, you can see that hip-hop is the now movement.

How do you feel about Jay-Z’s latest album?

I feel like it’s part of the evolution of hip-hop. The points and subjects Jay chose to address with a feel of honesty were topics that a 25-year-old Jay-Z would have never talked about. The experiences that he has encountered on his journey, using hip-hop as the vehicle allowed him to articulate to the rest of the hip-hop community and beyond in such a way that in my mind displayed his genius.

Do you hope more people within the hip-hop culture engage in local government?

Yes, I pray so. I hope to be the spark that ignites the flame of any and everyone who has a platform that can galvanize citizens in every city. If that happens, we can really effectively make changes in our communities.

What plans do you have for the city of Newark?

I plan on making a greater investment into our youth by bringing new innovative ideas that will generate revenue through arts and culture that can be used to spur job creation. Keep our young people engaged and residents invested into making the quality of life better for everyone in every ward of the great city of Newark, New Jersey.

What did people say when you decided to run?

It depends on which person you or I ask. When asking seasoned political figures, they would say, ‘Maybe you should wait until the next election to be ready.’ If you asked a person from 35 to 55 years old, they would say, ‘You have my vote and I’m with you.’ If you asked a 25- to 34-year-old, they would say, ‘You are going to win this by a landslide,’ but clearly don’t know what it takes to enter into a political race, let alone win one. If you ask an 18- to 24-year-old, they want to know more about me and once they find out, by searching the internet and doing their research of what I have done in the community, they also say that they are with me. The 60-year-olds-and-over residents want to know who I am, but more importantly where I stand on certain issues and policies.

Interesting theory based upon age ranges. How old are you?

Well, if you have heard the classic Lords of the Underground single ‘Funky Child,’ the intro begins with ‘The year is 1971.’ … I will let you math experts figure out what age that makes me. [Laughs.]

Who are you mirroring this campaign off?

I am mirroring chess players like grandmaster and Hall of Famer Maurice Ashley and Garry Kasparov.

What is your mission statement for your campaign?

My mission is [to] add on to the great things that are happening in the city of Newark, New Jersey, and help create bigger and better opportunities for the residents, entrepreneurs and local businesses. I also will talk to the people of the community in every ward to work on a solution to get residents to come from out of their individual silos, making every neighborhood in the entire city inclusive. When people love their city, they can change it.

As someone passionate about our home teams, will the New Jersey Devils win the Stanley Cup this year?

Absolutely. (Laughs)

Shawne Merriman takes 100 students to NASCAR The ex-NFL player launched ‘Lights Out Drive’ youth initiative that exposes children to the sport

Shawne Merriman named it after his apparel line — Lights Out. The former NFL player recently expanded his personal brand to launch Lights Out Drive, an initiative that gives children exposure to NASCAR. Which is why on Oct. 1, 100 children from the program visited Dover International Speedway.

“All those kids won’t get the opportunity to be a football player in the NFL, [or play in the] NBA, but exposing them to a different demographic and exposing them to a different platform will ultimately, at the end of the day, allow them to be a part of the NASCAR circuit, somehow, some way,” the three-time All-Pro linebacker said.

“There’s media departments. There’s marketing. There’s working at the track, being a part of whatever it is. NASCAR is such a big sport, there’s so many different levels and so many different ways to be part of it, that’s ultimately what you want to do. Out of those 100 kids, you want a good percentage of kids walking out of there to still follow the sport and want to go to another track.”

Merriman’s passion is in line with NASCAR’s Drive for Diversity program, an initiative launched in 2004, which works to diversify its drivers. As owner of NASCAR K&N Pro Series West driver Jesse Iwuji’s Chevrolet, Merriman’s goal is to offer accessibility to youths. Iwuji is one of two black drivers in NASCAR.

Merriman grew up in Upper Marlboro, Maryland, and as a high school player quickly gained the nickname “Lights Out” because players who he hit were rendered unconscious, as the story has been told. He attended the University of Maryland, was drafted 12th overall in 2005 by the San Diego Chargers and was named the NFL’s Defensive Rookie of the Year.

Merriman spoke to The Undefeated about giving back by bringing children to NASCAR.


When did you first get interested in NASCAR?

You know what, it happened in 2008, when I was invited out to be the grand marshal of the race in Fontana [California], and it really caught me off guard because I was going to a NASCAR event. I didn’t think that people would really know who I was or know who I am. I was honored. It was cool for NASCAR to invite me out. I didn’t know that it was going to be that many football fans.

So they announced me over the intercom, people went crazy, and from that point on, I was like, ‘Wow, this is crazy. I didn’t even know.’ I was walking up to the top, I was about to start waving the green flag. A guy behind me tells me, ‘Don’t drop the flag,’ and I’m looking at him like, ‘What are you talking about? It’s just waving a flag. There’s nothing to it.’

The cars all started up, and the crowd went crazy and I got so nervous because my hands started to get like clammy and I felt myself about to drop the flag because I was so damn nervous, but it was that adrenaline and it was the energy from the crowd that kind of made me fall in love with the sport. That was my first time actually being at a race. I used to watch it on TV growing up as a kid, but I had no idea it was that much excitement, that much energy there at the track.

What do you think about the lack of diversity in the sport?

For me it never really hit me hard. It was 2008, so basically nine years ago. I was in my mid-20s, and that was the first time I had an opportunity to go to a track but I got the opportunity to go to the track because I was Shawne Merriman, football player, linebacker of the San Diego Chargers at the time. That was my opportunity.

If I wasn’t who I was, I don’t know if I’d-a been open to going to the races. I don’t know if I would have been invited. I don’t know if I would have ever got a chance to see how exciting it was. That was part of my initiative of trying to get more ethnicity in there, more minorities involved in the sport, because without the opportunity, how do you really know?

I would have never known how to go to a track or how to look up the schedule or anything about the sport. That’s just part of our whole initiative to get this done.

Did the children on hand to go to the race as part of your initiative enjoy the event?

It was incredible because they really didn’t know what to expect. And we got there, and walking into the parking lot they heard a couple of the cars, it was probably two or three cars, on the track and they were doing all their practice runs. They were like, ‘Oh, my God, it’s loud,’ so they all wanted the little earpieces. I said, ‘No, no, no. Those are two or three cars that are practicing right now. Wait until 20-plus cars start up and then they start going around the track, then you’ll really see how the intensity and how crazy it is to be there.’

Maybe one day, when they get older and they’re looking for a career, they’ll remember that race that they went to and how exciting it was and want to be a part of the organization. To me, it was much bigger than trying to really inspire them to just be in the car racing.

How did you choose that group of students? What was the process for getting that initiative started?

I got the James Madison Middle School, where I went to middle school, so I got some kids from there, but I also got some at-risk kids at a top-notch program in Baltimore. I got some kids from D.C. We really wanted to get inner-city, most of the city as possible, because those are the kids that won’t have the opportunity to even go or won’t even find out the information to go or how do we get there. Whatever the case is.

I hope that grows from 100 to 1,000. I thought it was a great turnout. The kids really enjoyed themselves, and I would love to have even more involved and possibly even one day having a big race even closer to the inner city, if possible, so even more people will get the opportunity to be there.

How did you meet your driver?

So I have my company, Lights Out brand, which is an apparel company, and I was having a fashion show in downtown Los Angeles at a place called Brigade, where we hold a lot of our fashion shows at and I was introduced to Jesse, my driver, by a mutual friend of ours who’s a really big YouTube and social media star named Jason Dozier.

We talked about another 30 minutes or so at the event and I said, ‘Man, just come up. I would love to hear more about what you’re doing and how can I be more involved in the sport. Will you come to my office in the next few weeks or so?’ And he drove up from Monterey, California, all the way to my office in downtown Los Angeles, and from that point on we made it happen. He became an ambassador for my company, for Lights Out, and I became his car owner.

We were able to bring on a huge partnership and sponsor, Perfect Hydration, the water company, and they really liked our efforts and what we’re trying to accomplish. Without them, I don’t know if we could continue to do what we’re doing right now. They just really came in and gave us the resources that we need in order to be successful in our initiatives.

What do you have upcoming?

I have stuff for Lights Out. Actually, I’ve got a show coming out that I guest-starred on, the comedy Get Down, on BET, with George Lopez, Cedric the Entertainer, Charlie Murphy, Eddie Griffin, D.L. Hughley.

How was it working with the late Charlie Murphy?

Oh, my God. I was so privileged to not only work with him on the screen, but off set, when everybody’s trying to just relax and stuff like that, you hear Charlie. Charlie’s so real and raw and blunt and up front. I was in hair just listening to him talk all the time. He was just so damn funny. I was really blessed to get a chance to work with him before he passed away.

Are you missing football?

I’m still around it. I’m at every home Chargers game in L.A., support them in that move and really trying to get them more involved in kind of L.A. market and just do whatever I can. I’ve been around the team since 2005, and so I’m just glad to be a part and still kick it with them.

Daniel Gibson talks LeBron and Kyrie, rapping and Love & Hip Hop Hollywood Former Cavalier is a rapper on reality TV show with ex-wife Keyshia Cole

Daniel Gibson played alongside LeBron James and Kyrie Irving during his seven-year NBA career with the Cleveland Cavaliers. The sharpshooter appeared in the 2007 NBA Finals as a rookie and nailed nearly 50 percent of his 3-pointers during the 2009-10 season.

While Gibson’s shooting ability gave him realistic hope for a lengthy career, he disappeared from the NBA scene in 2013. The 31-year-old Gibson recently resurfaced in the reality show Love & Hip Hop: Hollywood with his ex-wife, rhythm and blues singer Keyshia Cole. The budding rapper known as “Boobie” in the NBA now goes by “Booby.”

What happened to Gibson, and why isn’t he playing now? He explained it all and talked about his basketball aspirations in a different realm, the support he receives from Cole, why the Cavaliers brought him to tears, James, Irving and more in a Q&A with The Undefeated.


Do you think NBA fans or your fans in general have some misconceptions about why you’re not playing in the NBA anymore? ‘Did he fall off the earth? Or did it have something to do with Keyshia Cole?’ What is perception and reality?

Man, there are so many misconceptions when it comes to me not playing basketball. The headline I hated to see, and I even contacted them about it, is ‘Daniel Gibson quits the NBA to rap.’ It’s foolish. You can do both. [Portland Trail Blazers guard] Damian Lillard does it. It’s not something you have to completely stop doing to do the other. That bothers me because that time in my life, it was so difficult. Basketball was what I did. I still was writing music and writing short stories at the same time. But basketball was taken away from me.

Daniel Gibson #1 of the Cleveland Cavaliers shoots against Josh Smith #5 of the Atlanta Hawks on April 1, 2013.

Scott Cunningham/NBAE via Getty Images

I wanted to play, but I couldn’t. I didn’t stop because I wanted to switch lanes. That bothered me. But it was just a physical thing, and I am the type of guy that if I am going to do something, I have to be completely invested in it and getting out of it what I want. I’m a realist. I am going to tell myself that you might have to start thinking about other things. I have to be fulfilled as a person.

What is the latest with your rap career?

The music has been amazing. It’s starting to take a life of its own since I got on the show. We started filming and people are starting to see me in a different light. They get to actually see my music, writing and just the whole aspect of what I call ‘my entertainment,’ and how it comes from a real place. It’s not just something that I’m doing. It’s not just a hobby. I released a song called ‘Nobody Knows,’ and it kind of describes my transition and the stuff I dealt with weighing basketball and a career in entertainment.

On last Sunday night’s episode, Keyshia Cole said that you should start playing basketball again. Are you interesting in playing basketball anymore?

Yes. But in terms of the NBA, it’s tough because of the injuries that I have had with my ankle, my knee, my back. It started to be challenging to play 82 games and compete at a high level. The struggles started when I would fly after having my ankle surgery. When we would land in a city, and we might have back-to-back games — and I know [the NBA] has changed that rule this season — my foot would be swollen. It would be a whole day process to get it to where I could perform. It got to the point where it became grueling.

Keyshia said that jokingly, ‘That is what I know you to be good at.’ She always picks at me about doing the music. But she is in support of it and knows how talented I am with it and just how tough basketball began to be for me at the end of my career. But to answer your question, I’m open to it all. It’s just a matter of me and my health, and which direction God wants me to go with the way my body is going for me.

In 2013, when you last played in the NBA, how did your body feel?

Whew. I think that was the year I came back from breaking my ankle. That was probably the toughest time, getting back, playing and not having the full extension of your foot and trying to figure out how to compete and be productive and enjoy the game.

There was some interest from other NBA teams for you to come back, but would it be fair to say you declined those opportunities due to your injuries?

Absolutely. When I stopped playing, I had options to go a few different places to either work out or possibly talk about joining other teams. So, for me it was solely about that point in my career. Would I be happy playing and feeling like I can’t contribute the way that I want to? Or, while I was still young, start to make sure I was lining everything up in my life. Just be real with myself. It was a pretty tough time for me because I was dealing with a lot of other things in my life as well.

Keyshia Cole and Daniel Gibson

Johnny Nunez/WireImage

Are you at peace with not playing in the NBA anymore?

I can’t say that I am completely at peace. I got in with Keyon Dooling and Corey Maggette and we created ‘The Champions League,’ which is a league for guys who still have names and can still play at a high level but might not be able to play five games in seven nights. Guys like myself, Mike Bibby, Stephen Jackson, Corey Maggette, Al Harrington, Jason Williams. We would go play in smaller markets.

I wouldn’t say that I completely have come to peace with it. I just found ways to continue to do what I love to do, but in a capacity that I am OK with. Even the BIG3, it’s probably something I will do as well. It will still allow me to play basketball at a high level.

You didn’t try to play in the BIG3 in their inaugural season this summer?

That body … after I hurt my ankle trying to get back from it, I ended up hurting up my other knee, too, probably compensating. After they reached out to me for that, I had just got it scoped. I couldn’t participate. People have no idea. They think I’m just on Love & Hip Hop or making music is just sitting on my a–. It’s been a lot. But it’s also been necessary. It’s also been working for me.

How have you held up mentally through all this change?

Initially, I probably hit rock bottom in terms of how I felt about myself and where I was in life. Now, I’m at peace with that. Since, I’ve been very vocal about that experience just because anyone else dealing with something mentally due to drama and things happening in their life, I try to be a walking inspiration. Yeah, things happen and come in flurries. You don’t know when they will come, but you bounce back and become stronger from it.

Did you have problems watching NBA games?

I didn’t watch the games. It was basketball, but I was also going through my divorce too. I lost someone in my family that I was real close to. It was a combination of a lot of things. Places that I had for refuge and always went for sanity were gone. At that point, I had to do a lot of self-reflection about a lot of things. That was during the 2013-14 season when I was thinking about coming back and I couldn’t.

How has writing and rapping helped you?

I’d like to say the writing. The writing is the expression of my poetry and a lot of the stories I tell when I write them. It pretty much saved me. That’s what I tell everybody. When I couldn’t hoop, I just started writing stories. I would write stories with fairy-tale endings that would make me happy, and it started to give me motivation to go out and do it. I just started writing, and I developed a passion for it.

That’s why when someone asks me about music or anything like that, I get emotional with it. It’s just something that gave me an outlet when I didn’t have any. In that process, I perfected the craft and studied the craft. It gave me the same drive like when you first start playing basketball and you first hear the nets when you make your first 3-pointer, you get addicted to the sound of the nets. It started being that way when I started affecting people the same way with my telling stories, writing and being creative. It kind of gave me more zest for life and put me back in the position I was in before, but only stronger, more motivated and able to move more people.

When did you start rapping?

During this whole process, it was always poetry and short stories that I would write. But when I was going through everything, things got dark. I didn’t want to write so much. Then I met this producer and he saw what I was writing and asked if I ever thought about putting it to music. I was like, ‘Nah.’ Once I started doing that, I pretty much slept in a studio for like, three months. I was just writing stories, telling stories. That is where the song ‘Nobody Knows’ comes from. I wrote that about everything that I was going through. Wanting to play basketball and not being able to, what was happening in my life. It just started to just be my escape.

The microphone just became my therapy. I could talk about whatever and come out of there feeling brand-new. Just the artistry and the freedom of that creativity is what I love most. But if I never made a dollar making music, I’d still be the happiest man in the world with what it does for me.

Former NBA player Daniel “Boobie” Gibson participates in the Sprite celebrity basketball game during the 2015 BET Experience.

Chelsea Lauren/BET/Getty Images for BET

Have you been able to still be productive with the money you made during your NBA career? (Gibson made $22 million during his NBA career, according to Basketball Reference.)

Being a country boy and not ever feeling like I had to keep up with the Joneses, I’ve always been one to do my own thing. That really put me in position to do whatever I wanted to do when I stopped playing. Thankfully, by the grace of God, I’m able to pursue this and not worry about anything. I’m able to be passionate, invest in myself and take risks in myself without having to feel like I have to depend on anyone else. And that has been the most beneficial part of all this because the song I put out, the numbers that it did and the turnaround on it, it didn’t have to filter through anybody but me, because I write my own stuff. Basketball pretty much set me up for everything.

Do you have an album dropping soon?

I have a mixtape and an EP [extended play]. Ever since the show came out, all these people have been trying to get to me. I’m still trying to decide whether or not to partner with somebody or continue to go back the way I have been, independent. But I will probably drop something at the end of this Love & Hip Hop season called Flowing B. It’s just a mixtape that I’m going to do. And just to continue the momentum that I have going now, I’m still deciding on whether or not to sign with a label. … There has been a lot of interest in that regard.

So, the show has been positive for you?

Nobody really knew. They only judge what I was doing because me being a basketball player. But they never took the time to actually hear a song. They just automatically assume just because every other [basketball] rapper before, I would say, wasn’t that good or didn’t really have time, they kind of jump to conclusions. But with the show, it is like, ‘He is actually doing it.’ It’s a different set of fans. I think it opened up people’s eyes to the idea of me doing it. It’s been good for me.

I don’t have complaints. I try to stay away from the drama. I am not the drama type. You get caught up with it a little bit. But I really want people to see me in a different light and know that I am just doing what I love to do.

How did you feel when Cleveland won the 2016 NBA championship?

I cried, man. I get invested, man. I only played for the Cavaliers. They love me to death every time I go there now. They roll out the red carpet. I don’t have to pay for nothing. The first year they went to the Finals and LeBron went to the Finals, that was my rookie year. To go through what we went through, losing 25 games in a row and they were still packing it out. … Man, when they won, I was sitting on the couch. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I got me [a title] too. If we don’t lose, they don’t get Kyrie, if we didn’t stink it up like we did. I was a part of that.

Have you talked to Kyrie, LeBron or any of your old teammates lately?

I haven’t talked to LeBron this year or of late, but we’ve kept in contact. Kyrie was my ‘rook.’ Me and [Cavaliers center] Tristan [Thompson] went to Texas. KD [Warriors forward Kevin Durant], I keep in frequent contact with. I still talk to a lot of those guys, especially when they come to L.A.

What do you think of LeBron’s and Kyrie’s careers and going their separate ways?

The NBA knows what it is doing. They keep you interested. They have the best players in the world. From the moment Kyrie came in, I saw him as special. From the moment I came in, LeBron told me he was going to make sure that we did big things together. They were both legendary. It didn’t surprise me that Kyrie wanted to do it on his own in the sense of, I personally feel like he doesn’t get enough credit as a point guard. I see a lot of guys get ranked ahead of him. Maybe he felt that since he had such a great player on his team, people couldn’t see all of him.

I don’t know the specifics. That is just my opinion. But I do know that both of those guys are incredible people and incredible talents. Kyrie has it how he wants it now. We’ll see. It should be a fun [season]. But I know when those two play they are going to go at it in a major way.

How would you reflect on your NBA career?

I just thank God for the opportunity to play the game that I love at the highest level against the greatest players in the world. I was truly blessed for the opportunity. I got to go to the Finals. I got to compete. That is all I ever wanted. That was a dream of mine.

What is the difference you feel on an NBA floor and on a stage rapping?

The only difference for me with the stage and with me being able to write and actually say how I feel, it has different impacts. I impact my community because I come from a very humble beginning. I impact my community by making it out. And now, as I continue to grow and get better with my ability to write and create music, I still will be able to impact the world more so with my words and some of the ideas that I have.

And then on stage, it’s just like making a 3 in the fourth quarter. You have the crowd with you, and you’re able to deliver your message, inspire, uplift and make people happy. And I feel like that’s my purpose. That is what God put me on earth to do, giving me another way to impact people.

O.J. Simpson is a relic in a new culture that celebrates unapologetic blackness The Juice re-enters American society at its most divided since his ‘Trial of the Century’

O.J. like, “I’m not black, I’m O.J.” / Okay / House n—a, don’t f— with me / I’m a field n—a with shined cutlery.

— Jay-Z, 2017’s “The Story of O.J.


Fate has a fetish for O.J. Simpson. Oct. 1 is nearly 22 years to the day of both his acquittal after the double-murder trial that captivated the world and nine years since being sentenced for armed robbery and kidnapping in Las Vegas. Both happened on an Oct. 3. And now the sharp winds of the judicial and correctional system once again gust in the direction of the 1968 Heisman Trophy winner. After serving nine years, the man known as “Prisoner 1027820” in Nevada’s Lovelock Correctional Center is free.

Emphasis on free. Because what does it mean? What has it ever meant? And can O.J. Simpson, in particular, ever truly obtain freedom? He re-enters American society at its most divided since his “Trial of the Century,” and we are right now in an era defined by social, cultural and racial injustices — and the resistance and protests against them. The line between sports, culture and politics is as blurred and polarizing as it’s been since the 1960s. And the black world that Simpson sought to escape via football and a white wife is a world he can no longer run from — if he ever could. “The heartbreaking truth is,” says columnist and author Rochelle Riley, “O.J. Simpson is coming out of prison, and having to wake up black.”


Simpson’s former employer, the National Football League, looks a lot different from the one that existed before his 2008 conviction. There are Ezekiel Elliott’s crop tops and Dez Bryant’s custom Air Jordan cleats, Richard Sherman’s and Marshawn Lynch’s locks, and Odell Beckham’s Head & Shoulders-endorsed blond hair. There’s the NFL’s more cautious style of play apropos of player safety. Some aspects remain the same though — like the ongoing issue of the league’s embarrassing, harmful and erratically applied discipline for domestic violence offenders.

The NFL’s biggest lightning rod isn’t even in the league. Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling protest, intended to shine light on police brutality and the inequalities that persist within the criminal justice system, has reverberated far beyond football. Athletes like LeBron James, Stephen Curry, soccer star Megan Rapinoe, Oakland A’s rookie Bruce Maxwell and the WNBA’s Indiana Fever have lent support to the exiled former Super Bowl signal-caller.

Kaepernick’s won adoration from and influenced Stevie Wonder, Tina Lawson, Chuck D, Carlos Santana, Kendrick Lamar, Cardi B, J. Cole and others. Jay-Z donned a custom Colin Kaepernick jersey on the season premiere of Saturday Night Live, as Nick Cannon rocked a classic one at a recent St. Louis protest after the acquittal of Police Officer Jason Stockley for the killing of Anthony Lamar Smith. His No. 7 San Francisco 49ers jersey is now in New York City’s Museum of Modern Art, and the National Museum of African American History and Culture announced in May that various Kaepernick items will be featured in future exhibits.

There’s no hierarchy in terms of the pain of dealing with black death, but it’s no secret Travyon Martin stands out. He’s this generation’s “Trial of the Century.”

The NFL also sits embroiled in a beef with President Donald Trump over protests inspired by Kaepernick — the same Donald Trump who entertained the idea of a reality show with Simpson back in 2008. And while we’re on reality shows, Simpson enters a world dominated by Kardashians. Keeping Up with the Kardashians has been a fixture in American pop culture since its premiere, 10 years ago this month. The family became famous during the fracas of Simpson’s first trial, where attorney Robert Kardashian — Simpson’s close friend and father of Kim, Khloe, Kourtney and Rob — was part of O.J.’s legal “Dream Team.” Kim’s husband, the Adidas designer and Grammy awardwinning producer/rapper/cultural live wire Kanye West, references Simpson in 2016’s “THat Part”: I just left the strip club, got some glitter on me/ Wifey gonna kill me, she the female O.J.

Where we are now is this: Athletes and entertainers (and many, many others) have called the president of the United States outside of his name — and the president and his supporters clap back, tit for tat. There’s a culture war going on, and while it’s different from the 1960s and ’70s, it’s a vibe O.J. is all too familiar with. He’s seen it move like this before.

Getty Images

Consider the American psyche leading up to the pivotal year of 1967, Simpson’s first season as tailback at the University of Southern California, a private, predominantly white institution surrounded by black neighborhoods in Los Angeles. In 1961, 61 percent of Americans disapproved of the “Freedom Riders.” Fifty-seven percent viewed lunch counter “sit-ins” as hurtful “to the Negro’s chances of being integrated in the South.” The 1963 March on Washington was viewed unfavorably by 60 percent of voters. And by January 1967, 53 percent of voters believed black people, instead of protesting for equal rights, would be better off taking “advantage of the opportunities that have been made available.”

Compare all this to a survey conducted by Global Strategy Group for ESPN from Sept. 26-28, just days before Simpson’s release. A clear racial divide exists: 72 percent of African-Americans strongly or somewhat agree with the protests, which were started by Kaepernick last season. Sixty-two percent of white people strongly or somewhat disagree. Other polls revealed similar numbers.

In 1967, like in 2017, everybody makes the decisions they make. On April 28, 1967, when Muhammad Ali was stripped of his heavyweight title after refusing induction into the U.S. Army, the revolt of the black athlete entered the living rooms of Americans. This was the same year O.J. Simpson rushed into USC immortality and the American consciousness with 1,543 yards and 13 touchdowns. This was the same year that, on Thanksgiving Day, Harry Edwards, a sociology professor at San Jose State, organized the Western Regional Black Youth Conference. The gathering of about 200 people discussed the possibility of boycotting the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. Sprinters Tommie Smith and Lee Evans were there, as was UCLA’s star center Lew Alcindor (who became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar). “Winning gold medals for a country where I don’t have my freedom is irrelevant,” Smith said at the meeting. “So far I have not won my freedom, and I will not turn back from my decision.” Alcindor refused to try out for the Olympic team, prompting critics to label him a national disgrace and an “uppity n—–.”

Though at a Western school, O.J. Simpson didn’t attend the conference. His epic 64-yard touchdown vs. UCLA, less than a week before, propelled USC to the national championship. Edwards had approached Simpson about lending his name and influence to the cause. Simpson disassociated himself from the movement, famously telling Edwards, “I’m not black. I’m O.J.” Smith and Carlos’ decision to speak out hurt their careers, in Simpson’s eyes. He wasn’t going down like that. “He absolutely distances himself from everything, which turns out to be a pretty good career move,” says Dr. Matthew Andrews. “It opens up all these doors in advertising, movies and so on.”

Focus on Sport/Getty Images

The assassinations of Martin Luther King and presidential candidate Robert Kennedy defined 1968. Riots erupted throughout the country. Black America had seemingly reached its breaking point. The defiant and painful image of John Carlos and Tommie Smith’s black power fists at the Mexico City Olympics ingrained itself in sports and American history. Meanwhile, O.J.’s celebrity ballooned as he separated himself from the swelling movement. He won the Heisman in 1968 and was the first overall selection in the 1969 draft. For the next two and a half decades, Simpson enjoyed the fruits of his decision and became one of the most recognizable, marketable and celebrated black men in America.


“You see, O.J. was under that illusion — ain’t been black since he was 17. Under that illusion of inclusion — [until he] got That N—- Wake-Up Call. Only n—- I know that could get on any golf course in America. They loved that boy! He had to come home when it got rough.”Paul Mooney, 1994

Simpson’s goal seemed to be: live a deracinated life. He didn’t want to make white people uncomfortable. He was handsome, charming and safe — and so, with 1969’s Chevrolet deal, became the first black corporate pitchman before playing a down in the NFL. Long after his playing career, Simpson was one of the few black faces on screen, as an actor or a commentator, during the late ’70s and early ’80s. “O.J.’s providing a very meaningful image for black kids in America,” said Ezra Edelman recently. He’s the Oscar-winning director of 2016’s O.J.: Made In America. “He deserves his due for the way he influenced culture, beyond being on trial for murder in 1994 and ’95.”

O.J. Simpson for Hertz, in 1978

Master Tesfatsion, 26, doesn’t remember the “Trial of the Century.” He’s a Redskins beat reporter for The Washington Post, and one of his most recent stories is about cornerback Josh Norman pledging $100,000 to Puerto Rico’s victims of Hurricane Maria. Tesfatsion’s first memory of O.J. is the 1997 civil case that ordered Simpson to pay $25 million to the families of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. Growing up Eritrean-American in Section 8 housing in Irving, Texas, Tesfatsion’s early O.J. knowledge primarily came from the neighborhood. “I just trusted the OGs,” he says. “If everyone on the block was telling you O.J. ain’t do it, what are you supposed to think?”

“O.J. really is this wisp of memory that is not as important because so much has happened since.”

Tesfatsion’s generation? They were kids when Simpson’s criminal trial happened. And they are well-aware of how deeply racial dynamics and police distrust played into Simpson’s case, and into their own lives. “People always think because you have a certain wealth status, whether it’s white people or even black people who are rich, they think they can escape colorism,” says the Arizona State graduate. “O.J. has proven on the highest of levels that that’s not the case.”

Tesfatsion remembers the passion the case evoked in his parents, and what was clearly two different Americas. So many white people mourned the not guilty verdict. So many black people celebrated quietly, or as if it were an NBA Finals victory for the home team. “The heartbreaking point about O.J.,” says Riley, whose The Burden: African-Americans and the Enduring Impact of Slavery is being published in February, “is not whether he got away with murder — if he did — but black Americans have been so mistreated and denied justice so many times and for so long that his acquittal was seen as a needed win.”

Simpson is a poster child for race and the legal system, but for Tesfatsion’s generation, he’s not on whom they hang their hat. Simpson’s verdict now of course has rivals in cases that have come to define this generation’s adulthood. “For a generation and a half, O.J. is not this larger-than-life person who meant so much, and who people paid attention to so much,” says Riley. “[O.J.] really is this wisp of memory that is not as important, because so much has happened since.”

Many of the same factors that came into play during the “Trial of the Century”—black bodies, white superiority complexes, and the assumption of black guilt have defined the cases of the Sandra Blands, Philando Castiles, Tamir Rices and Michael Browns. There’s no hierarchy in terms of the pain of dealing with black death, but it’s no secret Travyon Martin stands out. He’s this generation’s “Trial of the Century.”

“[Trayvon] was mine,” says Tesfatsion. “It was crazy how caught up I was into it.” Zimmerman’s not guilty verdict was delivered on his 22nd birthday. “To expect one thing, and see the other result, you know, as an African-American, the anger that you feel and the disappointment you feel it’s hard to explain.”


The question no one can truly answer is what happens next for O.J. Simpson. Fresh out of jail, he missed the entire presidency of Barack Obama and enters a world driven by Donald Trump — whose Twitter-fueled presidency has roots in the 24/7, reality-TV celebrity obsession culture rooted in the insanity that was his first trial. Rumors of a return to Hollywood even exist.

Former football legend O.J. Simpson signs documents at the Lovelock Correctional Center, Saturday, Sept. 30, 2017, in Lovelock, Nev. Simpson was released from the Lovelock Correctional Center in northern Nevada early Sunday, Oct. 1, 2017.

Brooke Keast/Nevada Department of Corrections via AP

But if there’s one reality starkly different from the one Simpson encountered pre-prison—and the beginning of it was the 24/7 coverage of his trial — it’s the extinction of the veil of anonymity. Does he attempt to live a life of modesty and recluse? Or has a nearly decade-long, state-mandated vacation done little to change him? Simpson’s been called a sociopath, one who craves constant attention strictly on his terms. Yet social media, his lawyers suggest, won’t be an issue for him. But he’s never dealt with the monster that is this iteration of media: social breaks stories and develops narratives before the first byline is written. Cameras don’t just sit on shoulders anymore, they sit in the palms of everybody’s hands. One click equals global broadcast.

Many already aren’t willing to deal with the potential fallout. Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi is attempting to bar him from the state — the same Sunshine State that houses the infamous generational antagonist George Zimmerman.

Dr. Andrews thinks that whatever the case, it will be interesting. “Which O.J. is he going to be? One would argue that pre-trial O.J. would distance himself from what many NFL players are doing. Certainly distancing himself from what Kaepernick’s doing. What Kaepernick did is exactly what [Tommie] Smith and [John] Carlos did in 1968. O.J. wanted no parts of that. [This] O.J. might get it a little more.”

But, Andrews asks, “Do you really want O.J. to be the spokesperson for this battle in racial justice?”

Riley is more than willing to answer. “The most important thing he could do for himself and America is to not answer the question,” Riley says. “To not weigh in and not try and make himself relevant in any way that he shouldn’t.”

It’s not just the NFL, and O.J. Simpson, but America itself that sits at a crossroads. All three face illness they never really addressed let alone medicated. O.J. walked out of prison Sunday a ghostlike relic of injustices he ignored, injustices he experienced and injustices he helped create. There is undeniable irony in karma greeting Simpson more harshly than his generational contemporaries. Ali, Abdul-Jabbar, Smith, Carlos and so many others were in their early 20s fighting demons older than America itself. The athletes were considered pariahs then but stand as saints of progress now. The same will one day be said about Colin Kaepernick. And about those for whom the killings of Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Mike Brown and others inspire a lifetime of resistance and service.

This is the third time O.J. Simpson experiences the first day of the rest of his life. Everybody isn’t that lucky.

Growing up Gucci Mane With a new book, new album and new reality show, the Atlanta star is ready for prime time

Radric Delantic Davis wanted the Christmas his mother couldn’t afford to give him — and the eighth-grader was willing to sell slabs of dope to make it happen. Toward the end of 1993, Davis, then 13, had his eyes on a pair of jeans, some new Air Jordans and a Starter jacket. Going back to school, postholiday break meant his classmates would show off their gifts from Santa.

But when his mom told him that bills were really tight and that she could only give him $50, Davis, today known as hip-hop star Gucci Mane, left the apartment with the money and walked to the other side of Mountain Park in East Atlanta’s Zone 6. Davis, who was already selling marijuana for his older brother, Duke, handed a dope man his mother’s $50 in exchange for two tightly wrapped slabs of crack cocaine, roughly 1.5 grams each.

“Now you owe me $50,” Gucci recalls the drug dealer telling him. “Get it?”

It was the moment Gucci realized he was officially waist-deep in Zone 6’s drug game — even if he didn’t have a clue of what he was getting himself into. “I remember … trying to carve out my own individuality,” he said. “I felt like fashion [was] a way to express myself, and I knew the only way I could get it at the time was that route: selling crack. I felt like dope would be the best route … at that time. That wasn’t one of the best decisions I ever made, but I was young.”

“There’s a lot of pain and heartache associated with the drug game that kids need to know about.”

Gucci’s family life, drug dealing and arrests — as well as the perfection of a musical style that would help elevate the careers of a slew of young Southern artists such as Migos, Young Thug and Zaytoven — are on full display in the new The Autobiography of Gucci Mane. In the book, co-authored by Neil Martinez-Belkin, Gucci, who has four top-10 rap singles — including this year’s hit with Migos, “I Get the Bag” — digs deeper into his upbringing than ever before, offering insight into how a kid caught up in Atlanta’s drug game made it through violence, rap beefs, a crippling addiction to the drug lean and run-ins with the law, including a 2005 murder charge (which was eventually dropped), to become the undisputed king of trap music.

“I finally know what it’s like to be a professional, to feel what’s going on,” Gucci said just ahead of the release of the book and his 11th studio album, Mr. Davis (due Oct. 13). The BET reality show Gucci Mane & Keyshia Ka’Oir: The Mane Event, featuring his fiancée, is set to debut Oct. 17. “I now appreciate that, and I’m not trying to take my talent or those opportunities for granted.”


By the time Gucci moved to Atlanta with Duke and his mother, Vicky, in August 1989, he had already experienced the highs and lows of family life.

Growing up in his grandfather’s house at 1017 First Ave., an olive-green two-bedroom near the train tracks in Bessemer, Alabama, young Radric took to his grandfather, the closest thing he had to a father. Gucci remembers Walter Davis Sr. as someone he’d run to and help walk with the rest of the way. He’d dive under his bed in laughter when his granddaddy chased him. But his granddaddy was a drinker, with bourbon often fueling those drunken stumbles home.

Amanda Dudley

When Radric was 7, his grandfather suffered a fatal heart attack. Losing the patriarch of the family triggered infighting that went on for years — his mother and aunts spilled blood on multiple occasions. “My granddaddy’s death divided the family,” Gucci said somberly. “Eventually, we figured it out, to be a tight-knit family again. But I learned a lot in that house.”

“I didn’t want to get caught up in that corner again, so I had to get creative.”

His brother Duke would head down to the Bessemer Flea Market and come home with whatever hip-hop cassettes he could find. The brothers would listen to the albums they could get their hands on, from Run-D.M.C. to N.W.A., committing lyrics to memory, rhyming back and forth. Soon, the bedroom they shared was covered in posters ripped from Word Up! magazine. “He definitely helped shape my taste in music,” he told me. “It kind of formed my love for hip-hop.”


This was long before Gucci’s idea of reaching out to local bootleggers (as a way to get his music out to the locals) came to fruition. With Bessemer in the rearview mirror, Gucci was living in deep financial fear in East Atlanta, worried about how his mother was seemingly always behind on rent and why they couldn’t pay the light bill. “I learned young that if I ain’t got s—, then I just ain’t got s—,” Gucci writes in the book. “If I wanted something in life, I would have to find a way to get it myself.”

Gucci said that while he’s glad he experienced what it was like to sell drugs, it’s a part of his life he never wants to return to — a point he’s trying to make clear to young people tempted by the hustle and the money. “Everything isn’t as glamorous as it seems,” he said. “It ain’t all glitz. … There’s a lot of pain and heartache associated with the drug game that kids need to know about in order to deter them from taking that route.”

Brandon Putmon

By the time he was 21, Gucci was hustling every day on the corner of a Texaco gas station, which had become a place of trade. He was in college at Georgia State University’s Perimeter College when his formal education came to an end. In April 2001, he was arrested for criminal possession of a controlled substance and sentenced to 90 days in jail. It was the first time Gucci had been charged with a crime — and the experience made him think about pursuing music.

“It forced me to make a choice,” he said. “I didn’t want to get caught up in that corner again, so I had to get creative. It made me go, What else can you do? I wanted to challenge myself to try to make a career of being a rapper.”

More than a year removed from a stint in a federal prison in Terre Haute, Indiana, for possession of a firearm by a convicted felon, Gucci, who started writing the memoir while incarcerated, knows his comeback was never a sure thing. If he could do some things over again, he would. But the trap king’s roots, and his past, remain close to his head and his heart.

Cam Kirk

“I would tell my young self, ‘Hey, Gucci, you got an amazing future ahead of you. You’re a fascinating person. You’re going to be one of the most remarkable people to ever walk the face of the earth,’ ” he said. “So with that being said, you gotta conduct yourself with class, you gotta conduct yourself professionally, because the world is going to watch you and the world is going to imitate you.”

Five things to watch for at this year’s Emmy Awards Can ‘Atlanta’ break through? And how will the Glover brothers handle the competition?

It seems like we’re all going to end up sucked into a mushroom cloud or stranded on an ice floe eventually. But right now, we have TV. So let’s rearrange some deck chairs and discuss the Emmys!

The strongest categories are the comedy ones, which are overflowing with good, smart, timely options, so at least we’ll be going to meet our makers with smiles on our faces. Saturday Night Live, with 23 nominations, is favored to bring in a big haul in the variety and comedy categories.

Here are five things to expect from the Sunday night broadcast from CBS, hosted by Stephen Colbert:

  • Stiff competition for outstanding comedy series. I’m wondering how this will shake out, given the nominee list: Atlanta (FX), black-ish (ABC), Master of None (Netflix), Modern Family (ABC), Silicon Valley (HBO), Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (Netflix) and Veep (HBO). Modern Family has been the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences’ favorite for longer than is justifiable, but Atlanta’s first season was so distinctive and so unlike anything else on television, maybe, just maybe, it will have a shot.
  • The possibility of a really special moment for Lena Waithe. She is the first black woman nominated for best writing in a comedy series for the touching Thanksgiving episode of Master of None. Donald Glover and his brother Stephen Glover are both nominated in this category as well for Atlanta, and frankly, if Stephen wins, it’ll be the best thing for healthy sibling rivalries since the Williams sisters. Donald is nominated in multiple categories though, so maybe they’ll come out even.
  • Some wackiness from Tracee Ellis Ross. Even if she doesn’t win the comedy actress category, Ellis Ross is consistently one of the best people to watch during awards shows. One, her face is elastic, and two, she’s down for just about anything. (Dear Saturday Night Live bookers: Take heed.)
  • A battle between Thandie Newton (Westworld) and Ann Dowd (The Handmaid’s Tale) for supporting actress in a drama series. I’m giving Dowd the edge with this one, just because Aunt Lydia is the scary dystopian nun who will haunt your dreams forever and ever. But Newton’s work in Westworld was the most impressive I’ve seen in her career.
  • Cutting up from Anthony Anderson if he wins for actor in a comedy series. Remember his interpretive dancing to Ellis Ross’ singing at the 2015 BET Awards? Again, the competition is ridiculous: Aziz Ansari (Master of None), Zach Galifianakis (Baskets), Donald Glover (Atlanta), William H. Macy (Shameless), and Jeffrey Tambor (Transparent).

As far as I know, no one’s figured out a way to clone Michael K. Williams, who co-starred alongside John Turturro and Riz Ahmed in HBO’s The Night Of. So I do have a request for the future, which is that networks start hiring more minority actors (and telling stories about people of color) for the buzzy limited series they’re doing. Aside from comedy, the limited series categories are among the most interesting and have consistently been offering rich, meaty television work.

Big Little Lies was a triumph for Reese Witherspoon, Laura Dern and Nicole Kidman. But it didn’t serve Zoë Kravitz nearly as well, and it showed when this year’s Emmy nominations were announced. Bokeem Woodbine shone as Mike Milligan in the second season of Fargo and was nominated for an Emmy, which he lost to Sterling K. Brown for his work in The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story. Fair enough, but after Noah Hawley and company proved they could successfully incorporate a black man into the lily-white world of Fargo, I wish they’d bothered to repeat that decision in its third and most recent season.

This year’s nominees in the Limited Series category: Big Little Lies (HBO), Fargo (FX), Feud: Bette and Joan (FX), The Night Of (HBO) and Genius (National Geographic) are pretty much centered on whiteness, with The Night Of being the sole exception. After last year’s recognition for artists of color, I’d hate to see the Emmys go back to a tokenized status quo.

This organization is dispelling the myth that black mothers don’t breastfeed Black Breastfeeding Week highlights health benefits and personal empowerment of breastfeeding in the black community

Last week Melanie Jones, a mother of two, learned it was Black Breastfeeding Week through Facebook. When the new mother (age 36) and science teacher found out she was pregnant with her now 2-year-old daughter Maycen, the decision she and her husband Ted made to opt for breastfeeding was a no-brainer, as long as her body would allow. They later welcomed a second daughter, Madycen, who is also breastfed.

“It saves money,” Jones said.

According to the United States Breastfeeding Committee, families who incorporate breastfeeding practices can save about $1,500 that would go toward formula in the first year.

Melanie Jones nurses her daughter Madycen. She is thrilled that Black Breastfeeding Week is an awareness campaign and hopes that numbers of black mothers who breastfeed will increase.

Photo by Jennifer Clements Wells

And the economical outcome is just one benefit.

Despite discouraging numbers, many mothers like Jones see the total benefits of breastfeeding and many organizations are taking time out to bring awareness to the nationwide topic.

Black Breastfeeding Week was established five years ago by Kiddada Green, Anayah Sangodele-Ayoka and Kimberly Seals Allers. The weeklong campaign continues to embrace breastfeeding in black families. The national awareness campaign ran this year from Aug. 25 through Aug. 31 and its goal is to highlight health benefits and personal empowerment of breastfeeding in the black community.

“For years, our communities have been viewed as places of deficiencies and lacks, but we reject that narrative and have full faith and confidence that we can create the solutions and support to improve infant and maternal health outcomes and save our babies,” said Black Breastfeeding Week co-founder and author of The Big Letdown – How Medicine Big Business and Feminism Undermine Breastfeeding Kimberly Seals Allers said in a press release.

Using this year’s theme, #BetOnBlack, the weeklong celebration was created in response to the unacceptable racial disparities in breastfeeding rates that have existed for more than 40 years.

“When we Bet on Black we will always win,” said Green, Black Breastfeeding Week co-founder and founding executive director of the Black Mothers Breastfeeding Association in Detroit.

Sangodele-Ayoka said, “We say ‘Bet on Black’ this year as confirmation of the passionate, tireless and innovative work being done by communities and families to protect the first food and this deeply nourishing tradition.” Sangodele-Ayoka, also a Black Breastfeeding Week co-founder, is a nurse-midwife in North Carolina and breastfeeding advocate.

The week included community events and a large social media presence. According the Black Breastfeeding Week, more than 60 local communities participated across the country. This year’s theme speaks to the growing need to create community-partnered solutions designed by the black community. Instead of looking to outsiders, researchers or other traditional “experts” to increase breastfeeding in the black community, the founders of Black Breastfeeding Week are calling on all to #BetOnBlack for solutions.

The trio knows it takes a deeper conversation and will continue to spread the word yearlong.

Meanwhile, other researchers are also in on the conversation. Regina Smith James, director of Clinical and Health Services Research at the National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities, recently wrote an article that stresses the economical and health benefits of breastfeeding.

“When it comes to providing our babies with the best nutrition ever, breastfeeding is not only economical, but it has positive health effects for both baby and mom … Breast milk is uniquely suited to your baby’s nutritional needs, with immunologic and anti-inflammatory properties,” she stressed. “Breast milk not only offers a nutritionally balanced meal, but some studies suggest that breastfeeding may even reduce the risk for certain allergic diseases, asthma, and obesity in your baby, as well as type 2 diabetes in moms.”

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention from 2011 to 2015, the percentage of women who initiated breastfeeding was 64.3 percent for African-Americans, 81.5 percent for whites, and 81.9 percent for Hispanics.

James added that research shows the racial disparities in the African-American community occur for several different reasons.

“Healthcare settings that separate mothers from babies during their hospital stay; lack of knowledge about the benefits of breastfeeding and the risks of not breastfeeding; perceived inconvenience of lifestyle changes; the cultural belief that the use of cereal in a bottle will prolong the infant’s sleep; and embarrassment — fear of being stigmatized when they breastfeed in public,” James wrote.

Shalandus Garrett, new mother of 4-month-old daughter Logan agrees that breastfeeding is the best economical choice for her household and she appreciates the time spent with mother and baby.

“I like the bond it creates and the closeness,” said the 34-year-old cancer researcher at St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. She is employed in a “super mom-friendly environment” that provides a nursing room and supplies for mothers who work and are away from their children but need to periodically pump milk throughout the work day.

While Garrett has an overproduction of milk, she noted that other problems exist for many women who attempt to breastfeed. These issues include low production of milk and infants not latching on.

Shalandus Garrett stores milk she pumps into her freezer. She overproduces breast milk and is exploring ways to donate her extra milk.

Garrett recently connected with her two cousins who are also new mothers at a family reunion. Joi Miller and Jessica Fitzgerald-Torry both opted to breastfeed but had to stop.

“After not breastfeeding my first child [who is 13], I was adamant to breastfeed any children after,” Miller, 33, said. “It was the most bonding experience I’d ever felt, skin-to-skin is a beautiful feeling, but [also] looking down at my nursing baby girl. I never felt so needed or accomplished. Well, until three months passed and I didn’t produce enough, leaving feelings of inadequacy. But now four months later, all she needed was a couple of months and she still latches on to me from the mere smell of me entering a room. For my first child, I just didn’t value the advantages to breastfeeding. But note my son is still very attached and quite brilliant, I must say.”

Jessica, 26, attempted to but had problems with Legend latching.

According to an article posted on National Institute of Health’s website, “African Americans continue to have the lowest rates of breastfeeding initiation, 60 percent, and continuation at 6 months, 28 percent, and, 12 months, 13 percent, compared with all other racial/ethnic groups in the United States.”

Although improvements in breastfeeding rates for African-American women are evident from the 2000–2007 National Immunization Survey, African-American mothers are still 2.5 times less likely to breastfeed than white women. Organizations such as Black Breastfeeding Week are working tirelessly to change the narrative and turn a weeklong awareness event into a lifestyle.

Jay Z — an artist truly made in America — makes his case for an authentic rest of his life From Bun B to Styles P to T.I. — the grown men of rap are having a moment

In May, Jay-Z inked a new $200 million deal with Live Nation. Before this weekend, his last major tour was in 2014 with his wife Beyoncé for their ($100 million-grossing) On The Run excursion. Jay-Z’s return to Made In America, a music festival he founded with Budweiser in 2012, was to be the culmination of a chain of events that started with speculation, leading up to June 30 release of 4:44, about just how much Jay-Z did or didn’t have left in the creative tank.

Rap, historically, has been a young man’s game. Could Jay-Z, at 47, still shift the culture as he’s done countless times before? Could he successfully coexist in a world of Futures and Cardi Bs and Lil Yatchys and Migos — all of whom were either gracing the Made In America stage this year or in years past? Would Jay’s first major solo performance in three years be his next Michael Jordan moment?


Music fans in ponchos attend the 2017 Budweiser Made in America festival, day one on Benjamin Franklin Parkway on Sept. 2 in Philadelphia.

Lisa Lake/Getty Images for Anheuser-Busch

Sunday morning. On Philadelphia’s Chestnut Street. Jay Z’s new “Meet The Parents” blasts from a black Toyota Avalon. People on the sidewalk rap along — the car’s speakers are an impromptu appetizer for what’s to come later. He can’t explain what he saw / Before his picture went blank / The old man didn’t think / He just followed his instincts,” Jay-Z rhymes at the stoplight. Six shots into his kin / Out of the gun / N—a be a father / You’re killing your sons.”

On that day — before the Labor Day holiday and Night 2 of the sixth annual Budweiser Made In America Festival — a group of friends walking down 20th Street playing cuts from 2009’s Blueprint 3 on their mobile phones. Thousands of iterations of Shawn Corey Carter stared back from T-shirts worn by the crowd that swarmed Ben Franklin Parkway.

Then, it happened. An explosion lit up an adjacent stage. Just Blaze on the turntables.

And then there was the young man working at UBIQ, a chic sneakers store on chic Walnut Street. Looking like a student from Penn, he said he planned on taking in Jay-Z’s headlining Sunday set. At least for one day at the end of summer, the City of Brotherly Love bled blue, Jigga’s favorite hue. “It’s a skate park like right across the street,” Penn Guy said as cuts from Jay-Z’s lauded 4:44 play from the store’s speakers. “I’ve never seen him live. I’m excited.”

Jay-Z’s return to rap — there’s been no new solo album since 2013’s middle of the pack Magna Carta Holy Grail — has been a summer-long process. First came the rumors of a new album watermarked by mysterious “4:44” signage that covered everything from city buses to websites all across the country. Then, at the last of June came the album itself, which was met with immediate and widespread love. A slew of “footnotes” — videos, conversations between people such as Chris Rock, Tiffany Haddish, Will Smith, Jerrod Carmichael, Chris Paul and more — followed, which detailed the album’s creation and inspirations.

From there, in mid-August, the most-talked-about music interview of the year showcased Jay-Z alongside Tidal and Rap Radar’s Elliott Wilson and Epic Records and Rap Radar’s Brian “B.Dot” Miller. The podcast left no stone unturned. In a two-part, 120-minute conversation, they peeled back layers of Jay-Z’s thought processes about music, life, love, motivation, depression and, even LaVar Ball.

On the heels of that talk, and through a Saturday of unseasonal chilly downpours, Jay-Z and Beyoncé watched a new generation of stars command muddy crowds. Family from both sides of the Carter-Knowles union cheered Solange on through her Saturday set. Was may well have been a kind of moment Jay-Z envisioned throughout the recording of 4:44. At 47, he had to wonder about his creative mortality, and if he could shift the culture as he’d done so many times before.


Bun B performs onstage at The Fader Fort presented by Converse during SXSW on March 16, 2013, in Austin, Texas.

Roger Kisby/Getty Images

The Los Angeles Lakers’ rookie point guard Lonzo Ball said it: “Y’all outdated, man. Don’t nobody listen to Nas anymore […] Real hip-hop is Migos, Future.”

On one hand, it’s difficult to fault a 19-year-old for backing the music of his youth. Younger generations of artists and fans alike have always bucked back at generations who view their contributions as destructive. Tupac Shakur openly dissed De La Soul on 1996’s seething battle record “Against All Odds:” All you old n– tryna advance/ It’s all over now take it like a man/ N– lookin’ like Larry Holmes, flabby and sick/ Tryna playa hate on my s–, eat a fat d–. And only weeks before he was murdered, The Notorious B.I.G. vowed to never rap past 30. On the other hand though? Right now is a particularly good time for a handful of statesmen who dominated hip-hop before Big Baller Brand was just a twinkle in Lavar Ball’s eye.

How generations before talked about Marvin Gaye, Prince, Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson, he’s hip-hop’s them.

Run The Jewels’ Killer Mike and El-P (and their soundman, Trackstar the DJ) have consistently been one of the decade’s most impactful groups. They tour the world — and, in particular, amassed a melting pot crowd of various races and ages moshing at the Sunday Made In America set. Nas’ 2012 Life Is Good is, in many ways, rap’s interpretation of Marvin Gaye’s Here, My Dear, and one of the great late-career albums from any MC. OutKast’s 2014 tour was weird, but Big Boi of OutKast has quietly been responsible for several stellar albums — 2010’s Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty, 2012’s Vicious Lies and Dangerous Rumors and 2017’s Boomiverse — in this decade alone.

Jay-Z wasn’t the only artist in the pre-Lonzo Ball era displaying moments of clarity over the last few years either. A handful of hip-hop’s mature and notable names have been creating art and expressing — via conversation and on social media — everything from encounters with their own mortality to the pain and occasional beauty of survivor’s remorse.

Rice University instructor Bernard “Bun B” Freeman (currently working with Beyoncé and Scooter Braun on a telethon to benefit the victims of Hurricane Harvey), one half of the legendary Port Arthur, Texas, rap group UGK, sat down with Queens, New York’s own N.O.R.E. for an installment of the MC’s popular Drink Champs podcast. Per tradition, both parties swap hip-hop war stories and imbibe for the better part of two hours. The most emotional segment centered around memories of Freeman’s partner in rhyme, Pimp C, who died in 2007.

“The illest s— Pimp [C] ever said was ‘I don’t need bodyguards. I just need mighty God.’ Ever since he said that, and I never told him, I move like that,” Freeman said. A single tear streamed down the right side of his face. “If you wasn’t moving with me within God, I’ll just move by myself. That’s the way life should be.” He continued, “If you are who you say you are, and you’re honoring that in a real way, you can move anywhere in this world. Pimp and I are proof of that.”

When it comes to honoring a fallen comrade, T.I. (who was not feeling Lonzo’s comments) understands all too well. In May 2006, T.I’s best friend Philant Johnson was murdered in Cincinnati following a drive-by shooting. Phil, is inspiration behind T.I.’s massive Justin Timberlake-assisted single “Dead & Gone.” Phil had been by T.I.’s side that same evening — holding his mobile while the rapper performed. Hours later, his lifelong friend lay bleeding to death in his arms. “I told him I had him, and it was going to be all right,” T.I. told MTV in 2006. “That was what I said. And he said, ‘All right.’”

The death could be viewed as the trigger that disrupted T.I.’s massive mid-2000s success. His 2007 weapons arrest and subsequent incarceration was seen by many as a response to Johnson’s murder. T.I. contemplated quitting rap. But T.I.’s moved forward. While not at just this minute the Billboard and box office star he split time as a decade ago, the film producer, actor, and two-time Grammy winner born Clifford Harris is still a recognizable figure in rap. Particularly on his very active Instagram account.

Instagram Photo

Last month, Tip (a father to six who is who has experienced his own share of public marital ups and downs with singer-songwriter Tameka “Tiny” Harris) posted the video of him presenting Phil’s daughter with a new car. She’s now a high school senior. In a heartfelt caption, Tip used the moment as a social media therapy session. “Making straight A’s and maintaining a 3.8 GPA, all the way through school, staying away from all the things we were eyeball deep in when we was her age, & doing any & everything that’s EVER been asked since you left,” he wrote. “How can we not make sure she rides cool & in comfort her senior year? We miss you more than we can express…but we fill in for you everyday until it’s all said and done.”

He promised to send her to college. And that she’d never suffer for anything. It was more than an Instagram caption. It was remaining true to a promise to a man who died in his arms 11 years ago. “Our loyalty lives forever!”

Lastly, it’s Styles P — one-third of ’90s Bad Boy trailblazers The LOX. He and his wife, Adjua Styles, visited Power 105’s The Breakfast Club in August. Among other things, the couple discussed the benefits of healthy eating, and Charlottesville, Virginia. They also talked about their daughter’s suicide.

It’s what performances like these are masked for—regular season games for a championship run.

In June 2015, Styles P’s stepdaughter, Tai Hing, took her own life. She was 20. Styles P addressed the tragedy a month later via Instagram, detailing the difficulty he and his family faced, and would face. Hing’s death, her mother believes, could have been the boiling point of depression, issues with her biological father, and perhaps her sexuality.

Fighting back tears, Styles P was emotional about never having been able to take the place of Hing’s biological father. The dynamic bothered him deeply, but was beginning to understand as he, himself, was a product of a similar situation. “If we knew she was depressed she would’ve been home with us,” he said. “ We all deal with depression on some sort of level … You expect your child to bury you, not to bury your child.”

Honesty has always been a prerequisite for hip-hop in its most soul-piercing form. Beyond the flash, the lights and the flossing, at its core, rap was necessary to explain the fears, dreams, joys and pains of a people so often still struggling. And dealing with police brutality, poverty, misogyny, and more. So Styles P’s pain, T.I.’s memories, Bun B’s instructions from Pimp C, and Jay-Z’s vulnerability aren’t new grounds for rap. But their grief, and willingness to shred the cloak of invincibility rap often mirages is living proof of the power behind the quote a wise man said nearly a decade ago. Ain’t no shame in holding onto grief. As long as you make room for other things, too.


Music fans attend the 2017 Budweiser Made in America festival – Day 2 at Benjamin Franklin Parkway on September 3, 2017 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Lisa Lake/Getty Images for Anheuser-Busch

The weather Sunday proved to be Mr. Hyde to the Saturday’s Dr. Jekyll. The only visible fingerprint from Saturday was the mud that essentially became a graveyard for shoes. Jerseys were popular with the crowd. UNC Michael Jordan and Vince Carter. Cavaliers, Heat and St. Vincent-St. Mary LeBron. Sonics and Warriors Durant. Nuggets Jalen Rose, Sixers Ben Simmons. Lakers Kobe, and Hornets Glen Rice. UCLA Russell Westbrook, and Lonzo Ball. Arizona State James Harden, University of California Marshawn Lynch, Niners Colin Kaepernick, LSU Odell Beckham and Georgetown Allen Iverson. Obscure jerseys such as Aaliyah’s MTV Rock n’ Jock and Ray Finkle’s Dolphins jersey (from the 1994 Jim Carrey-led comedy classic Ace Ventura: Pet Detective) were sprinkled among the sea of thousands.

Afternoon sluggishly careened into evening. 21 Savage, Run The Jewels and The Chainsmokers all commanded large crowds. Felicia “Snoop” Pearson from The Wire dapped up fans. Hometown young guns Markelle Fultz and Joel Embiid of the Philadelphia 76ers walked through the crowd. Festivalgoers camped near the main stage for hours in hopes of landing an ideal viewing spot for Jay-Z’s performance. To pass time, cyphers were had. Weed smoke reclined in the air. Guts from dutches and cigarillos were dumped. All to pass the time.

Months ago, many, especially on Twitter, wanted to act like Jay-Z wasn’t a headliner. No one even saw an album coming. Now here they were minutes from history. That’s what Jay-Z is in 2017. How generations before talked about Marvin Gaye, Prince, Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson — Jay-Z is hip-hop’s them. He’s a throwback to the genre’s yesterday lyricism while embracing the newer generation he still attempts to impart game on and learn from.

The oversized Balloon Dog by famed sculptor Jeff Koons took the stage: It was time. “I’ve been waiting for this all summer,” one concertgoer said as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. “I know one thing, Jay better do the songs I wanna hear!” demanded another young woman.

So he did. Jay-Z’s set lasted nearly an hour and a half. He blended 4:44 cuts with classics from his catalog — the radio-friendly and the graphic street narratives. Jay-Z commanded of the crowd, but critiques did exist.

In his Rap Radar interview, Jay-Z mentioned that he was still toying around with the set list for his upcoming tour (slated to start in October). While it’s not a question to 4:44’s quality, Jay-Z weaving in old classics such as “Where I’m From,” “H to the Izzo,” “N—as In Paris,” “Big Pimpin’,” “Hard Knock Life,” “Run This Town,” “Empire State of Mind” and “Heart of City” captivated the crowd, cuts from his most recent album seemed to dissipate from the energy those helped muster. 4:44, after all, does not have a big radio single.

4:44 is Jay-Z’s most personal album to date. His thirteenth solo effort revolves around the complexities of his marriage, his mother’s sexuality and societal issues that continue to create systematic disadvantages for people of color. Its intimacy can get lost in an outdoor crowd of tens of thousands. For an album of that nature, it’s tough to ask even Jay-Z to plan for such.

Breath control was expected to be off-center in his first major performance in three years — though coaxing the crowd to sing Beyoncé happy birthday was a great diversion. Are these flaws that will doom his upcoming tour? No. He still has three more festivals on deck before setting sail on his own on Oct. 27. It’s what performances like these are made for — regular-season games for a championship run.

“It’s Jay, so he did all the songs I wanted,” a concertgoer told me. “But I’m greedy. I wanted more.”

Jay-Z performs at Budweiser Made in America festival on Sept. 3 in Philadelphia.

Arik McArthur/FilmMagic

Jay-Z’s catalog: a litany of hits he can employ at any time to wrap a crowd around his fingers. People filmed Instagram and Snapchat videos of themselves rapping along. People yelled to him from the back of crowd as if it were a Sunday service. And cyphers between friends sprouted everywhere. Another element Jay-Z kills with is the element of surprise. He concluded the show with a tribute to Coldplay’s Chester Bennington, who committed suicide in July: an inspired performance of his Black Album single “Encore.”

As he left the stage, crowds swarmed to the exit. Some concertgoers voiced their displeasure. Jay-Z did his thing in the 90 minutes he gave Philly. But there was still something missing. “That’s it? He didn’t even do half of the songs I wanted,” said a girl as she walked toward the exit. “It was aight, I guess. It’s Jay, so he did all the songs I wanted,” another concertgoer told me. “But I’m greedy. I wanted more.” Made In America was over.

Then, it happened. An explosion lit up an adjacent stage. Just Blaze on the turntables. Some slipped in the mud trying to get there, ruining their clothes, but those concerns were faint. Hundreds were already on the street heading back to their apartments, AirBnB’s or Ubers when Jay-Z informed Philly that the party wasn’t over yet. This set was only for his “Day Ones.”

Jay pulled his “Pump It Up Freestyle” out his back pocket. This bled into “Best of Me,” “I Know,” “Hola Hovito,” “Money Ain’t A Thing” and more. Hometown kid Meek Mill’s guest appearance gave an already frenetic crowd an HGH-sized boost of adrenaline as the rapper ran through his catalog’s zenith and most intense track, 2012’s “Dreams & Nightmares (Intro).”

As Jay-Z closed the second set with [his favorite track], “Allure,” the mood was ceremoniously serene. Michael Jordan finished with 19 points on 7-of-28 shooting in his first game back in versus Reggie Miller and the Indiana Pacers in 1995. The 21 misses are footnotes in history. It’s a moment everyone remembers for two simple words: “I’m back.” Grown as hell, Jay-Z is too.