Let me introduce to you one bad-ass dude. This guy is old-school bad-ass, the kind they don't make anymore.

His name is Charles Oakley.

You may not have heard of him before. BUT TRUST ME this isn't the kind of person you want to meet in a dark alley.

Does this look like the kinda of guy you would want to meet in a back ally?
Let me start by re-counting my personal experience with the scarest-human-being-on-earth. It was about six years ago this up-coming feburary that I got to meet the legendary Charles Oakley. I was down in the state of Texas visiting my brother who I hadn't seen in quite some time. Actually to clarify that - he lives in Dallas - (rather than hickville U.S.) Him and I grew up huge sports fans, it was one of the only similar interests we had. (The major differences between him and I - well you would find him trying to construct a computer in our basement while he was in grade 7. Yeah I know - THAT IS RIDICIOUSLY NERDY. But of course he is ridiciously smart). So it made sense that while I was down there to attend a basketball game - the Toronto Raptors happen to be visiting the near by San Antonio (a team I happen to grow up cheering for). Ticket prices were very reasonable. So we got seats 10 rows back from the court.

It was a three hour drive from Dallas to San Antonio but we got there early so that we could fully appreciate the whole experience. And of course I was anxious to take advantage of our close proxmity to the court. So during the pre-game warms-up I decided to line-up court side and haggle players for their autograph.This is something I am not very experienced with.

In fact the only other time I had attempted this was during the 1991 spring training season. I was in Florida during March Break staying close to the Pittsburgh Pirates training facility so naturally I tried to meet players. I was pretty excited back then about meeting an up and coming super star named Barry Bonds. I was pretty naive about things back then. Bonds happens to be a legendary arrogant asshole. The kind that might flip off his grandmother if she happened to be in his way. So how do you think this worked out?

Not so well.

My grandfather who is a huge baseball fan and was with me that day, to this day has not forgiven him for brushing aside his grandson without so much as a word. Me? I moved on.

Nine years later here I was living my dream, watching my world champion San Antonio Spurs warm up. I was completely awe-struck. David Robinson, Tim Duncan, Avery Johnson, Mario Ellie, Steve Kerr. They were larger than life. They were so close I could smell their sweat, see their eyes, feel their giantic height towering over my teenage body. But I was brave and things turned out well. I got a number of autographs including Steve Kerr, who was a complete gentleman to this nervous teenager. This ultimately got my confidence PUMPED UP. I thought to myself 'Man, this was easy.' Like trading baseball cards with my younger cousins. I ALWAYS GOT MY MAN.

So there is no turning back at this point. I had dipped my foot into the water. It was comfortable. I had met some of my favorite basketball players. I was feeling pretty smooth. Everything was going well. And here the Raptors were coming off the court. I mean at this point, I could hussle John Schuerholz out of his Braves 1992 pitching staff for Tim Leary. THAT is how good I'm feeling. (BTW Tim Leary in 1991 was 4-10, ERA 6.49).

A few of the Raptors pass by, I get a few Hi's, a couple high fives including a young rookie Vince Carter but no autographs. I guess the visiting team doesn't give out favours to the home town crowd. My confidence is still good but I am coming back to earth now. It is like a space shuttle rocketing through the ozone layer. I am still in control of the descent but I am no longer orbiting the earth thinking "Man I am like a God right now."

Then I see him. The baddest motherfucker on the Raptors. He's HUGE. Much bigger than I imagined. His muscles are like boulders. Rock solid. And THAT scowl is brooding. Every rational person around me took a step back. He's walking towards us with this look - like he is hunting the person that just KILLED his mother. Whoever that is - they are going to be his pre-game meal. But you see I am still in the clouds, oblivious of this. And just as he gets within two steps of me, I put out my hand - pen and paper included - and with my loudest voice "Hey do you think I could get your autograph?" In the next moment everything slows down. He turns his head and looks directly at him. His eyes - I don't know how to explain this other than - are a glowing fire. The dude is shooting fire-y flames directly from Hell itself at me. I FEEL LIKE I JUST KILLED HIS MOM. But he just keeps on walking. No response. Nothing. Until he's almost by me. My hand is still out there and I am just about to ask him again. Then he drops the BOMB.

'Fuck-Off'

It was a pretty quick 'fuck-off.' No emotion. It was just a 'don't bother me kid - I am all business' - fuck-Off. And to be honest, it doesn't even bother me. He is a professional basketball player trying to prepare for a game. I respect that.But that glare is something I will never forget. It was absolutely the scarest moment of my life. The guy could have walked over snapped my neck with his one hand and it wouldn't have suprised anyone standing around me. It wasn't one of those frothing at the mouth rages either. It was a silent, cold-blooded brooding that only someone who has killed many many times before can have.

This is my impression of Charles Oakley.

Alot of people wonder what happened to Vince Carter after 2000-01. In my opinion there are only three words needed to explain this: Charles Oakley left. This could be debated, but let me explain it this way: If Charles Oakley wanted me to do something. I would do it. If Charles Oakley told me to "play it like a man," (which in fact he did say to Vince Carter) I would do it. If Charles Oakley said 'get on your knees and beg for your life.' I would do it. Which is pretty remarkable considering that among my friends I am know as the "shit-disturber" or the "bear-poker." BUT I would do anything he said out of fear for my family. No Questions Asked. It would be implied - my safety or my family's safety is in jeopardy IF you do not follow his instructions.

If you don't believe me, consider these examples:In the 2000 season, Oakley was suspended and fined for throwing a basketball off of Tyrone Hill's head after a morning shoot-around. I am not exagarating. He threw a basketball of this dude's head. But that wasn't it. Before a pre-season game at the start of the 2000-2001 season, Oakley slapped Tyrone Hill and was not allowed to play in the game. He bitch slapped Hill. And you know what? Hill took it. Why? Because he was afraid of Oakley. And this was all over a game of dice. Mind you a $54,000 game of dice. But the lesson here: If you owe Oakley pay your gambling debts. As Bill Simmons put it "For God's sake, everyone in the league is still afraid of him," and the guy is forty-three years old.

The other infamous example happened during the 1999 lockout. Oakley allegedly slapped Charles Barkley across the face during a players only meeting. Now I don't know if you would cross Barkley, I probably wouldn't. He is pretty big and seems like a loose cannon. But Oakley on the other hand, he would have no problem doing that. Why? Because he doesn't care what the 'f&%#' you think. And this is scary. People who have no fear are the scariest people to deal with. And for this reason Oakley scares the s@#% out of anyone that meets him.

Seriously. I mean the list of people that I have met and am still legitimately scared of is one. It starts and stops with Charles Oakley.

Bring on anyone. I'll stir it up. I WANT to see them react. Just PLEASE don't make it Oakley.