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What do you do if you’re Mike Williams, a 26-year-old millionaire wide receiver for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers? You live in a previously quiet neighborhood and throw extravagant parties that piss off your senior citizen-aged neighbors. One of his neighbors, a 60-year-old man named John Hagensicker, described his parties as being “Gatsby-level.”
“I’d be laying in bed at night and couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Big boom boxes blaring, and it would shake my head on my pillow. I’ve never known people so rude and so low-class. I was astonished.”
I’m not a big expert on parties thrown by fictional characters, but big booms boxes, rude, low-class people, a stripper pole in the living room, and a failed rapping career sounds more like a frat party to me. The only difference between a frat party and Williams’s parties is that people show up until 4 a.m. in stretch limos, which then peel out like they’re mud riding. I also haven’t heard anyone talk about a boom box since the ’90s, but I’d like to imagine Williams and his entourage walking around the house, one of them with a giant boom box on his shoulder like he’s a struggling street performer. Mr. Hagensicker is probably just jealous that his days end with him in bed by 9 p.m. watching “Matlock” reruns.
The new Bucs coach, Lovie Smith, is “disappointed” by Williams’s behavior, but what can you expect from someone who just signed a $40 million contract he probably didn’t deserve? Williams has been ordered to pay more than $50,000 in damages and fees for his partying, but that seems like money well spent to me.