No Word of a Lie

I was involved in a long distance relationship several years back, the dissolution of which made the Hindenburg landing look like the best parking job. Ever. Why the hell couldn’t I have just made her up?

So Manti Te’o lied. So what? I mean, yeah . . this story is bizarre every which way to Tokyo. But what it really comes down to is that a college kid lied about a girl. Something that only happens, oh . . every five minutes. Of course, Manti is a star linebacker for a big name college team whose story helped galvanize a Heisman Trophy run. So there’s that.

Thing is, we made the kid bigger than his britches, or even his lies. Sportswriters turned the diminutive Te’o into Paul Bunyan in pads and the public ate it like ice cream. His lie or hoax or whatever the hell this turns out to be, matters this much simply because this kid mattered too much to begin with. And so now, we almost forget the first episode of Lance Armstrong’s Truth or Dare. His interview with Oprah just so happens to be the longest amount of time he’s spent with someone who wasn’t injecting something into him.

The Manti Te’o story is working harder than Charlie Sheen’s liver, so I gotta ask. When do we make time for the national ‘conversation’ all the talking heads chatted up after Newtown? Or do we just let Congress take care of that once they’re done saving us from the fiscal cliff they drove us off in the first place?

And here’s a thought. If it turns out this Manti kid was fibbing up a love story to such Spielberg effect, then maybe he needs the help of professionals. Rather than the hurt of the semi-professionals who are quarterbacking his life into the Page 6 obits.

So Lance Armstrong told the truth as he believes it to be last night. And so Manti is busy with his PR guys figuring out how to save himself more money than Geico in the NFL draft. How is this stuff more important than the real news going on outside our door? How could we have learned the lessons of Rome if we’re fiddling on Taylor Swift’s latest breakup song while the rest of the world is burning?

I never held Armstrong’s personal life in any regard- good thing- because his personal life ain’t never been my business. Same as Tiger Woods. Same as Manti Te’o. I never built them up to begin with, so I can’t possibly have the right to break them down.

The only thing I know for certain is that Lance Armstrong didn’t lie about the cancer. Being a cancer survivor is his only truth.

The only two people who could crush me with a lie are my kids. And one of the few people I look up to is my girlfriend. Maybe that makes me simple in a complicated world, but I’m plenty fine with it and here’s why.

My girlfriend put in a call to a co-worker of hers the other day. The man is hurting for money and would love nothing more than to be with his granddaughter, a beautiful eight year old girl who is being eaten alive by cancer. She let him know that she had his ticket paid for. Just so he could get there to be with his granddaughter. She’s my hero, and that little girl she’s looking out for? Her too.

Dominique doesn’t have much time left, and when I’m not busy being sad about that, I’m being angry.  I’m sad because Dominique never gets the chance to show the world what she had. And I’m angry because she has her priorities fixed on the right places, unlike most grown ups who consider TMZ to be a news show.

And that’s no lie.

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