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Speaking of Class to the Class of '98
Rick Reilly
May 25, 1998
Thank you, graduates. Please be seated. It's an honor to address the college athletes who are going on to the pros this year. If I may, I'd like to offer just a few pieces of advice.
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May 25, 1998

Speaking Of Class To The Class Of '98

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Spread the jing around. There's nothing uglier than a man in a $3,000 Armani stiffing a coat-check girl.

O.K., so you didn't grow up with a father. Then go be one. Make a difference in the life of one kid who is not your own, and it'll give you more joy than a lifetime shoe contract.

Just a reminder: You will die someday.

Stop thumping your chest. The line blocked, the quarterback threw you a perfect spiral while getting his head knocked off, and the good receiver drew double coverage. Get over yourself.

Give the bodyguard the night off once in a while and wade into the people. Some are sort of cool.

Loosen up a little with the quotes. This isn't a congressional budget hearing. Why say, "I really was shooting well today" when you could say, "I was hotter than a three-dollar pistol."

Once a season, let your offensive guard spike the ball.

See the woman up there in section 595, row WW, seat 29? She makes $26,000 a year, paid $22 a ticket for her family and just plunked down $17 for three Cokes and a warm beer. Treat her nice. Without her, you're a 320-pound bouncer with half a P.E. degree.

Go easy on the tattoos. By the time you're 60, that hula girl on your biceps is going to look like Don Knotts.

This just in: You can do community service without being sentenced. Try it. Have somebody leak it to the media. There are worse things than people seeing a millionaire painting an old lady's house.

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