Last season there were two Chris Johnsons in the league: this one, who played in Memphis, and a taller one who played in Minnesota. It was like the scene from a terrible nightmare. Every night I checked the box-scores with dread, wondering how many Chris Johnsons had been added to rosters since the last time I had checked. I would wake up to find Chris Johnson headlines on all the major sports sites. When a Chris Johnson did something, I was never sure who was the perpetrator. My brain was taxed to the limit. It seemed like my whole life was Chris Johnson.
I can tell you with honesty, friends, that those times were among the darkest times of my life. I was, regrettably, actually happy when the season ended, for I knew that with the end of the season came the end of Chris Johnson.
You can picture my grief when I found out, a week ago, that Chris Johnson had been picked up by the Boston Celtics. I was fearful of the terror being renewed; I scoured Rotoworld for news of other Chris Johnsons being snagged by other teams. Thankfully for my own sanity, there is currently just one Chris Johnson in the league at the moment, but I know that the situation could change at any moment, casting me back into a whirlwind of unfathomable confusion and torment.
There is only one solution, one cure for the madness.
People with the last name “Johnson” should stop naming their sons ordinary names like “Chris”.