NEW YORK - For Jason Richardson, I bet last night’s NBA Draft was a lot like my bar mitzvah when I was a 13-year-old with a face full of acne.
Just to clarify for those of you unfamiliar with bar mitzvahs, it’s not when a Jewish boy is circumcised - rather it’s when he earns the status of manhood in the eyes of his religious community, regardless of his maturity level.
Just to clarify for those unfamiliar with the NBA Draft, it’s not the circumcision of college basketball players either. Instead, it’s when elite college basketball players are converted into millionaires - regardless of their maturity level.
Now, at first glance, these two events probably seem totally unrelated, but when examined closely, you’ll see the similarities are as scary as they are shocking.
Take, for instance, last night, when Richardson was called to the podium and let out a gasp that was powerful enough to remove a cinder block weighing on his chest.
I had a similar religious experience when I concluded reading my Torah portion in front of my family and congregation at my synagogue.
Even though I was wearing a new yarmulke, which my cousin had brought home from Israel, that day and Richardson had on the hat of his new team, the Golden State Warriors, last night, you get the gist of the analogy.
I mean, I shook my rabbi’s hand on the bema and Richardson stood at the podium and shook the hand of NBA Commissioner David Stern - the rabbi of the NBA.
Richardson will have his pick of NBA groupies, while I had the pick of girls in my sixth-grade class to dance with at my party. By the way, that’s not why a boy is considered a man after his bar mitzvah.
For a teen-ager, I found myself with an unprecedented amount of monetary fortune as well as gifts - even though my dad insisted on investing it all.
For a 20-year-old, Richardson’s financial status looks like it will rival Uncle Scrooge from the cartoon “Duck Tales.”
But I definitely don’t recommend jumping off a high-dive into a vault of gold coins.
“I have to pretty much balance the amount I want to spend and how much I want to save,” Richardson said Tuesday. “I want to invest, but I’m young and I’m gonna get everything I’ve always wanted and everything I’ve always wanted for my family.
“But after that, I’m gonna put my first NBA check in the bank and live off my endorsement money.”
That’s not to say Richardson hasn’t splurged so far. Richardson used some of the money advanced to him by his agent to buy a Cadillac Escalade.
“It was pretty fun,” Richardson said. “You get to go to the dealership and pick out a truck. As soon as I was driving out of the parking lot, I called my ma and I was like, ‘ma, I just bought a truck.’
“It kind of hit me that I actually made it. It’s a dream come true.”
Even though I could go on for another 20 inches comparing these two landmarks in our young lives, I think I’ve made my point, so I’ll move on to our differences.
The most glaring difference between Richardson and I, besides the fact I just barely made my high school basketball team, is Richardson has a daughter and a mother to support, while I am still supported by my father.
Many MSU students were upset Richardson threw away their chance to be part of a drunken mob at Cedar Village celebrating another NCAA Championship win. As much fun as the peaceful celebration was, the fact remains that Richardson has too much stock in his athletic ability and couldn’t risk a career-ending injury.
“I think they understand my decision of why I left for the NBA,” Richardson said of MSU fans. “I get a lot of brutal e-mails, but I think some of them understand and some of them don’t.
“My mother did so many things for me throughout her life that I don’t want her to have to worry about anything for the rest of her life. I don’t want my daughter to have to go through the same things I had to go through.”
Richardson said at first, it’s going to be tough not spoiling his 16-month-old daughter, Jeejahla, but he’s going to raise her just like his uncle and mother raised him.
“I’m just gonna have to discipline her and make her work for stuff,” Richardson said. “I’m not gonna say that I’m not gonna give her anything, but I don’t want to spoil her to death to the point where she’s taken care of for the rest of her life.
“When she gets older, she’s gonna have a job and I’m gonna keep her feet on the ground, just like my uncle kept mine on the ground.”
The comparison between Richardson and me begs the question: Did Richardson’s and my own experiences transform us into men?
No one becomes a man after one ceremony, no matter what its religious significance. The process of a boy gaining the status of manhood is lifelong. Neither Richardson nor I were any more or less mature the morning after our events.
Justin A. Rice, State News sports general assignment reporter, still isn’t mature to this day. Make fun of him at ricejust@msu.edu.
