JimLes
Well-Known Member
Draymond is an idiot. He just had to go poke the Silver bear and now, instead of getting the kind of suspension where you just get sent home and come back when it's done, he's getting the kind where he won't come back until he thinks about what he's done and shows he's been rehabilitated. Silver isn't angry, he's disappointed. That's way worse.
I grew up with a father whose background is in psychology and philosophy. I was never punished in a traditional sense, but when I was a kid, I sometimes wished for that instead. One time when I was 18 or 19, I borrowed my dad's car. No biggie, I did it all the time and my parents were happy that I was responsible enough to never get into any trouble with it. My parents were poor immigrants with multiple jobs and one of those involved my dad delivering papers at 3 in the morning. One night, I was hanging out with a sorority girl that I quite liked, and we ended up talking until the wee, wee hours of the morning. This was platonic at this point, so there wasn't even kissing. I tried to get home before my dad left for his paper route, but I was off by 15-20 minutes. Not a big deal for my dad. He simply took my mum's way nicer car and did the route and came back before she had to go to work. By that point, I had obviously returned with the old beater.
I returned hours before, but had stayed up. My mother had not gone to bed until I came home because she did not hear me open the garage and as all mothers do, assumed I had died. This was back in the day when you had cellphones, but you weren't so attached to them you'd carry it everywhere. Mostly because it could only make phone calls and play an LCD version of Snake. Of course I had left mine at home that night so my mother couldn't reach me. My father came home and wasn't angry at all. He wasn't even disappointed. He knew I was fine and he assumed that a girl had something to do with this. I asked if I was going to lose my car privileges and when I could take the car again. He said I could take it at any point I felt like I deserve to have the car back, even that afternoon. I know my father, and he honestly meant that. It was not a test. He did mention that while he hadn't been worried, my mother had.
The same mother whose anxiety and depression got so bad less than a year prior to this that she had to be hospitalized for a week and who was still in counselling and trying out different medications. Being a teenager, I kinda wished he'd just said I couldn't use the car for a week and hit me with a belt. Instead, I got my own conscience to punish me over the next weeks. It was a month before I could look myself in the mirror and take the car again. My dad didn't bring any of this up when I did, and acted no differently at any point. You better believe that I never did this again. Angelina Jolie could've offered to help inspect the back seat of that Suzuki and I would've said no if it was any later than 1am.
TL;DR: Draymond will be wishing he was just sent home for 15 or 20 games and got to come back without having to do anything. He's not smart enough to fool psychologists.
I grew up with a father whose background is in psychology and philosophy. I was never punished in a traditional sense, but when I was a kid, I sometimes wished for that instead. One time when I was 18 or 19, I borrowed my dad's car. No biggie, I did it all the time and my parents were happy that I was responsible enough to never get into any trouble with it. My parents were poor immigrants with multiple jobs and one of those involved my dad delivering papers at 3 in the morning. One night, I was hanging out with a sorority girl that I quite liked, and we ended up talking until the wee, wee hours of the morning. This was platonic at this point, so there wasn't even kissing. I tried to get home before my dad left for his paper route, but I was off by 15-20 minutes. Not a big deal for my dad. He simply took my mum's way nicer car and did the route and came back before she had to go to work. By that point, I had obviously returned with the old beater.
I returned hours before, but had stayed up. My mother had not gone to bed until I came home because she did not hear me open the garage and as all mothers do, assumed I had died. This was back in the day when you had cellphones, but you weren't so attached to them you'd carry it everywhere. Mostly because it could only make phone calls and play an LCD version of Snake. Of course I had left mine at home that night so my mother couldn't reach me. My father came home and wasn't angry at all. He wasn't even disappointed. He knew I was fine and he assumed that a girl had something to do with this. I asked if I was going to lose my car privileges and when I could take the car again. He said I could take it at any point I felt like I deserve to have the car back, even that afternoon. I know my father, and he honestly meant that. It was not a test. He did mention that while he hadn't been worried, my mother had.
The same mother whose anxiety and depression got so bad less than a year prior to this that she had to be hospitalized for a week and who was still in counselling and trying out different medications. Being a teenager, I kinda wished he'd just said I couldn't use the car for a week and hit me with a belt. Instead, I got my own conscience to punish me over the next weeks. It was a month before I could look myself in the mirror and take the car again. My dad didn't bring any of this up when I did, and acted no differently at any point. You better believe that I never did this again. Angelina Jolie could've offered to help inspect the back seat of that Suzuki and I would've said no if it was any later than 1am.
TL;DR: Draymond will be wishing he was just sent home for 15 or 20 games and got to come back without having to do anything. He's not smart enough to fool psychologists.
