I’m sorry to do this. I really am, because this Seattle Times story about beloved Supersonic Slick Watts is a great tale about a charismatic aging legend coming to terms with mortality.
But there are some things you can’t just go whistling past.
He returns to his car and grabs a plastic bag, a container and a fork. “My wife calls me the poo poo picker because I use a fork,” he says. “That way you can get it out the grass. I’ve got a thousand forks at home. A thousand. Anywhere I go, if I go to a restaurant, I always keep them.”
Yes, Slick Watts — who may be best known for helping popularize the headband among NBA players, and who was a PE teacher in Seattle until just recently — uses dinner ware to pick up turds left by his labrador retriever, Amber, who he says he wouldn’t sell for all the money in the world.
If you can get past the obvious psychological barrier to doing that, it sounds like a pretty good idea. Poop is difficult to get out of grass, forks are easy to carry and dispose, and doing it that way saves you from having to reach down there with nothing but the thinnest-imaginable layer of plastic between your fingers and a hot turd.
Slick Watts: Baller, educator, innovator.