Rivers deflected the insult by describing how his "big, growing family" kept him "balanced and grounded." What I'd have liked him to say was something like: "It's true that I have six kids and a seventh on the way. Which one do you think should not have been born, or would like to have killed?"
On second thought, in today's atmosphere, someone would probably have responded in the online comments: "How about the one in your wife's belly? At least it would be legal."
One wonders what would inspire a sports reporter to pass on such a question. Maybe next time he'll interview Adrian Peterson, running back for the Vikings, and lately the recipient of much sympathy and media virtual hugs over the loss of his two year old son, who was beaten into a coma, and ultimately death, by the boyfriend of the woman with whom Peterson had fathered the child. In spite of the child's rather sudden, untimely, and brutal demise, Peterson managed to gather himself sufficiently to play football the next Sunday. ("I'm ready to roll," he said). Part of the reason might be that he had never met the boy until he saw him in a coma. The boy was raised by another man from whom the mother is apparently separated - hence her liaison with the violent boyfriend. It begins to get complicated, doesn't it? In fact, after reading the article, I'm still not certain whether Peterson is at present, or ever has been, married. Which is interesting given that it now appears (if the latest harlot is to be believed) he has donated sperm toward the existence of seven children who exited the wombs of at least four different women. Again, the exact number is hard to pin down. The harlot does say that she believes Peterson supports the children financially (although she had to sue him to get it), which is almost like being there.
Mr. Alipour might also consider interviewing one Antonio Cromartie, cornerback for the New York Jets, who has sired 12 kids - four by his current wife and eight others by seven different women. What Mr. Alipour might ask is:
"Mr. Peterson, Mr. Cromartie. On the one hand we have Mr. Rivers, who has six children and a seventh on the way, which sounds excessive to some people, but at least we can say that he lives with them, raises them, and remains married to the woman with whom he conceived them. On the other hand, there are the likes of you guys. My question is: what kind of man thinks he can sleep with any opportunistic slut who catches his fancy, get her pregnant, and then move on, abandoning both her and the child, the latter being condemned to a life without a father? If you desert a woman after using her, how can you teach the child about love, about the true value of women, and especially of motherhood? If you won't be there to raise him, how can you teach him about fatherhood? It's pretty simple: if you won't be there for him, then you don't care about him. Really, what kind of man does that sort of thing? The answer to that is simple too: a man doesn't do that sort of thing. Which leads me to the conclusion that in some important sense you aren't men, but something more akin to feral alley cats. Wouldn't you agree? If some of your kids - and the chances don't seem all that remote - turn out to be dope-dealing drop outs and promiscuously unattached reproductive units, will you even care? Do you think about the possibility? Do you think at all?"
I know, pissing in the wind and all that. It's respectable to attack the Catholic family man who respects and reveres his wife's fertility and loves the children who issue from it, while ignoring the rascally fornicator who can't be blamed for the fact that women love him for his talent, money, fame, and physical excellence. The new commandment is to be fruitful and multiply with whomever you like. The new man is to go forth and subdue as many women as possible, strewing offspring in his wake, children who will never love or honor him because they did not know him. A sympathetic assessment is sometimes offered such men: that they are cursed by an excess of passion, that, in spite of themselves, they "love women too much." It's the sort of love that doesn't require its victim to know what the word means, and it won't bother you much because when you wake up in the morning, it will be gone. It's a good fit for the age.
Tim Tebow simply doesn't know what he's missing.
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