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A Bad Trip
Gary McLain
March 16, 1987
The Downfall of a Champion
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March 16, 1987

A Bad Trip

The Downfall of a Champion

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To keep me aware that my future is a day-to-day proposition, I regularly attend meetings of a special support group. Some days I'm tired and don't feel like going, but as they say, "Just bring your body, and your mind will follow." In that way, it's kind of like basketball practice.

I go to meetings whenever I can, at least once a week. I've made some good friends there, and we help each other quite a bit. One thing I learned very quickly is that drugs don't discriminate. These meetings are filled with businessmen and bums, men and women, blacks and whites, old people and teenagers, prostitutes and policemen. We come from all walks of life, but there is one simple word that describes us all. Addict.

I haven't yet met anyone else at these meetings with a championship ring on his finger. But I'm just like every other person in the room. I don't think of myself as being any better, or any worse.

A lot of the stories I hear sound harder than my own. But who am I to judge? I try not to.

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