Whatever you do, don’t break the ‘Bro Code’

Whatever you do, don’t break the ‘Bro Code’

Apparently, breaking the “Bro Code” is about the worst thing a guy can do.

That’s the moral most people have been taking from the controversy involving Los Angeles Lakers D’Angelo Russell and Nick Young.

Russell, the second pick of the 2015 NBA draft, apparently made a video recording of Young, a 30-year old veteran who makes more than $5 million to score 7.3 points per game for the worst Lakers team ever, while he was bragging about recent sexual exploits that did not involve his fiancé, Iggy Azalea.

Somehow, the video was leaked to the public, putting the Young-Azalea wedding status in jeopardy and making an entire country talk like Barney Stinson.

Russell, as they say, broke the “Bro Code” by spilling the beans on his teammate, making him the worst teammate this side of Lewis Scott.

Everybody but Michelle Beadle of ESPN seems to think Russell is the bad guy in this scandal, giving the unfaithful Young a free pass for breaking the heart of Ms. Azalea. Young is the guy who is a liar and a cheater, yet the nation has turned its how-dare-you eyes to Russell.

Yep, sounds about right. With that kind of scratch, Young can always find a new fiancé, maybe even one who sings. But Russell might never live down the horrible mistake that is breaking the “Bro Code.” He may never be trusted by a teammate again.

I should know because I once broke that code.

My blunder came during gym class when I was a sophomore at Butte Central. That’s when I saw what I thought was a pretty good joke backfire in a big, big way.

One sunny afternoon for gym class our teacher made all the boys in the class run to the Marcus Daly statue at Montana Tech and back. The teacher said he would know if every one of us made it to the statue because he was going to be sitting up there in his truck.

The 1.6-mile assignment really wasn’t much of a run, but it sure sounded like a marathon to a bunch of high school boys who didn’t feel like moving 1.6 feet.

For some reason that day, my friend Chad and I uncharacteristically decided we were going to give the run a solid effort, and we jumped out to a big lead as we made our way to Marcus Daly.

As we got to the top of the hill we noticed, as we suspected, that our teacher was bluffing. He was still at the school with his feet on his desk, possibly sleeping.

Of course, the teacher’s bluff worked. At least it worked on Chad and I because it got us to run all the way to the statue and back.

As we made our way back, Chad and I ran into the rest of the boys in the class.

“Is he up there?” one of them asked, looking to cut the run by at least a third.

Quickly, I came up with what I thought was a pretty funny joke, and Chad silently went along with it.

“Yes,” I answered. “He is up there.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

So, the rest of the boys turned their walk into a jog to get to the top of the steep hill so they could be checked off by the teacher who wasn’t really there. Chad and I laughed about the thought was we jogged back to the school.

A while after we got back to the school, the other boys started rolling in, and they didn’t see the humor in my joke. In fact, every one of them was glaring unforgivingly at me.

Not one person thanked me for the extra pound he just dropped by running up the hill. The only thing they saw was a gross violation of the “Bro Code,” and I was going to be punished and shunned, just like the young member of the Lakers.

The shunning lasted a few days, maybe even a week. The punishment was immediate.

You ever have that dream that you suddenly find yourself in school in your underwear or naked? Well, I almost lived it. Literally.

As I got out of the mandatory shower at the end of class, I walked back to my gym bag wrapped in my towel. Only my gym bag and my clothes were nowhere to be seen.

“Very funny,” I said. “Where are my clothes?”

The only answer I got was that they were somewhere outside the locker room in the gym, where the girls from our class were waiting for the bell. I could tell by the look in my classmates’ eyes that if I would have went out to look for my clothes, that towel was going to be ripped right off and I would be locked out of the locker room.

So I waited and waited, engaging in a staring contest with some angry classmates as we tried to figure out what would be our next move. Unlike the gym teacher, I knew these guys were not bluffing.

Part of me appreciated their response, which made me realize without question that my joke was not the right thing to do. Part of me wanted to apologize like John Cleese hanging upside down outside the window in A Fish Called Wanda.

The rest of me, though, was just terrified at the thought of running home from school completely naked, and that sure seemed like a definite possibility.

Just when things were about to get really ugly, my buddy Mike Drew came through the locker room door with my gym bag and clothes.

Many of the angry eyes glaring in my direction were turned to ward Mike, who was one of the guys I made run to the top of the hill, as he saved me an embarrassment I would never live down.

I got dressed as quickly as possible as Mike tried to explain his move to the angry classmates.

To this day, I’m not sure if Mike also broke the “Bro Code” when he delivered my clothes. To some degree he probably did because he sold out the majority and spoiled a legendary plan for revenge.

On the other hand, he might have followed the code to the letter by having the back of his friend and eventual KC basketball teammate.

I just know that if a teammate ever confessed to cheating on his fiancé in the locker room, Mike would never be the reason it was recorded and leaked on social media.

And perhaps D’Angelo Russell’s punishment should be running home from the Staples Center in the nude.

— Bill Foley, who has never broken the “Bro Code” again, writes a column that typically appears on ButteSports.com on Tuesdays. Email him at foley@buttesports.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74.



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