An Open Letter to Willie Cauley-Stein

Dear Trill,

My amigo, my dawg, my road warrior, my boy how are you? I hope this letter will find you well (but it likely will not unfortunately).

I’m writing this letter to you not because I want to, but because it was asked for a million times seemingly after I had to drop the hammer on the Koufer. Always my answer inside my head was hell to the no. I do not like Koufos one bit (and it’s probably mutual), but I genuinely like you. I’ve been to your crib when you showed me all the fan letters people gave you, I’ve kicked it with you backstage at HOF Day, all of that.

But alas like Nino Brown said in New Jack City, this is not personal it’s just business Trill. The Kingdom hath spoken Big Will, and I must be the one to do this unfortunately. Maybe you’ll read this and it’ll light a spark, and maybe you’ll tell me to F off when I see you again.

So where do I begin with this kind of thing? How could it have all gone wrong. Why? How? When?

To quote Biggie Smalls it was all a dream. You came to Sac International in the big chain and limousine, not really you took commercial via Southwest (only Fox and Jackson got the private jet but the chain part was correct peep the IG selfie from that day). Three March Madnesses ago I watched you run the floor like a big greyhound dog blocking shots and catching alley oops at Kentucky. That Summer we all were witness to you donning the draft cap with those dreads and that nice suit you had on. You were the guy Vlade picked in that chaotic day where every possible rumor was afloat.

You got off that plane and the City was in the palm of your hand. A bunch of tattoos, cool ass haircuts, and the swagger of a South Sac pimp with every color gator they could possibly make. Willie Cauley-Stein? Nah you were the Trill Gawd. And we f****ng loved the Trill Gawd (still do). You looked like my Cousin's weed dealer, only five inches taller. People could relate to you. A kind gentleman in public, and our boy on the block. We loved that (still do) !

Even with George Karl playing you limited time you showed that freakish athletic ability that you have and balled out on Easter Sunday (aka the one home game I missed that season). The future was bright for you, and we all knew it. You were going to be the anchor of the defense in the future, no one was coming into the paint or they were getting put on their ass by you. Once we got you a point guard that could feed you lobs it was a wrap. The most athletic big man we had in ages. It was all you bro.

But then the next season came and you faltered. That first half of the season you just seemed confused, overwhelmed, and just not into the mix on the court. Then someone must’ve had you reading the stuff people were saying online and you flipped like Bruce Jenner after calling it off with Kris Kardashian. You were aggressive, hungry, and finally post DMC trade looked comfortable being THE starting center of the future. No one gave a damn about the start of last season anymore.

Year 3 was going to be your year. This was the exclamation point to the NBA. A big F you to all the people who penned you as a reach for us at 6 in that Draft. You came into this season rocking a kick ass man bun, and called Trump A CLOWN!!!! YOU CAME IN HOT LIKE A BAD ASS BIKER GANG MEMBER READY TO CLEAR THE WHOLE ROOM WITH A SINGLE POOL CUE!!!!

And then the season started. Now if we are being fair you’ve started all 13 games and you’re stats are up .4 points per game. But the consistency has not been what people have expected. One night you’re hungry like a bloodthirsty wolf that hasn’t eaten in days. The next you’re just seemingly passive, unwilling to get inside and do a thing. It seems like your ego has you thinking you need to jack up a million shots to be productive that you’ve forgotten who you are. A floor-running, shot-blocking, lob-catching demigod from the heavens looking for the home run block on every play to get the cowbells banging. You don’t need to be more aggressive like you told those reporters in New York. I don’t know if this is something you’ve created in your head or what others around you are telling you but they are wrong.

You’ve gone soft on us Trill. Charmin soft. And I never thought I’d see the day when people would have doubts about you. But it’s there and we can't deny it anymore. What happened to you bro? Seriously, what in the hell happened to you? Where is the guy who came to wreck people's big man? I don't even know about you anymore bro.

The backlash has been horrible, but it’s deserving. It seems from the outside point of view that Willie Cauley-Stein only cares about his social media, art, and beefing with my boy Ron P on instagram (but lets keep it real Ron walked into that one, love you Ron but come on bro). Every time somebody comes at you, you respond to them. Either with texts, DMs, snapchats. And hell to be honest when you came into Czarina’s DMs I was mad at first, but hell we all make mistakes Willie. But damnit man it just shows how far you’ve lost yourself. The hunger isn’t there. It seems like you’re content with the money, the women, the notoriety, and that’s it.

Where is the man who wanted George Karl to play him? Where is the man who wrecked the whole Celtics team with that crazy dunk last season? How can we get him back? Where has your drive to be a savage gone?

I didn’t write you this thinking it could get awkward next time I see you. I wrote you this because it’s the truth you need to hear because everyone around you is kissing your ass and not being real with you. Every time you take the floor I want you to remember this letter in your head. I want you to get angry every time you take the floor and punk the other guy across from you the way Boogie did to Leo Beas. Get back to what makes you the Trill Gawd and show the doubters where they can shove their opinions.

When that basketball comes near you I want you to break the rim every time you take flight. And on defense I want you to send that weak stuff into the third row. Scream, yell, and play with that aggression. You’re the Trill Gawd, you’re not from this planet. Remember that, and never look back from here.

Sincerely,

Keith