Let me tell you a story. During my year living in Vegas, I played a fair amount of poker. One day, I was playing at Mandalay Bay and talking to the guy next to me, who eventually revealed he had played wideout on the same junior college team (Santa Monica College) as Smith and Chad Johnson, then Chad Ochocinco. Somebody at the table asked him about Ochocinco and he had nothing but hilarious stories to tell about Ochocinco goofing around and having fun.
I asked him about Smith, though, and the man’s brow immediately furrowed. His smile disappeared. He told me a story of getting into an argument with Smith over some long-forgotten situation where he was in the right. The poker player was a younger man then, and as many of us were as young men, he got very obstinate about being in the right and was willing to turn an otherwise irrelevant slight into a fight. He got to the point where he was about ready to throw down … at which point Smith escalated the tension about 10 levels beyond anything my man could have ever generated at his most wronged. He looked into Smith’s eyes and saw a rage he could never hope to match. In sheer self-preservation mode, he apologized to Smith and got as far away as possible. It was a lot like the high school bully scene from Louie, only with one Steve Smith instead of a bunch of high schoolers.
As he finished the story, I laughed in support of the guy’s situation and said knowingly, “I guess you don’t **** with Steve Smith.” He looked at me with great sincerity, as if to warn me out of even the slightest possible hint of serious interest in the pursuit, and said very clearly: “Do not *mess* with Steve Smith.”
The Panthers *mess*ed with Steve Smith.
