Turns out there's a microfracture in Greg Oden's armor.
Not laughing at Oden. Hopefully, laughing with the guy. Because with the awful luck he's had, hearing that his fifth knee surgery ended up being a microfracture made me hope he's keeping a sense of humor. Because the alternative leaves him as a beat-down guy with a pile of shattered dreams.
If you're looking for sad-sack stories in Portland, you can roll a basketball over the Burnside Bridge and hit a line of homeless people sitting on the sidewalk at dusk who have life tougher than Oden. Not sure if he's feeling the comfort of $20 million in earnings today, but I'm sure he's tired of letting people down.
I'm sick of Oden. You're sick of Oden. We're over it. And I felt like forgetting...
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