The Death of Sean Taylor

I’m not scared of dying. If I do something that pisses someone off and they shoot me, okay. I get a fatal disease, okay. But completely RANDOM death has always scared the hell outta me. Bird shits on windshield, dude swerves, knocks into bike messenger who plows over me. Someone shoots at someone else, bullet dislodges a brick that lands on my head as I’m walking by oblivious. That shit scares the fuck outta me. And now, with the shooting of Sean Taylor we see that someone as big and powerful as him can actually die from not just getting shot, but getting shot in the leg. Great. Something else to worry about. Not in the head or the chest but the leg (and yes, I understand it was the femoral artery.) I’m pretty shocked – yesterday when I heard of the shooting I was like well, he got it in the leg, he’ll be okay. Nope. Dead.

And, just like so many things that are in the news these days, once again this shows how a gun negates all else. I’ll prolly go the rest of my life without meeting anyone as strong and healthy as Sean Taylor. Not just a player in the NFL, but a player FEARED in the NFL. If I’m breaking into a house, the last dude I wanna see coming outta the bedroom is Sean Taylor. But if you have a gun, that’s that. Trumps all.

I assume this was a random break-in; I’m not gonna get into his life, the violence of his past et al. I don’t know any more than anyone else. But now his family is gonna spend the rest of their days agonizing over the randomness of it, and constantly say things like “if only he hadn’t been injured, he wouldn’t have been in Fla”, “if he hadn’t gotten picked by the Skins…” and on and on and on; the backwards connect-the-dots game that haunts after things like this.

What more can you say. Young man dead. Horrible.