Two definitions of "Sneakerhead," as supplied by my two most trusted sources of information:

Wikipedia: A sneakerhead is a person who is highly experienced visually even to the point of discernment in distinguishing between real and fake replicas and also owns multiple pairs of sneakers as a form of Hobby, collection, Trade and fashion.

Urban Dictionary: 1. A person who collects limited, rare, OG, or flat out exclusive kicks. Usually the collection consists of Jordans or Dunks. 2. A person with background knowledge of certain sneakers.

Regardless of how you slice it, I can never be described as a sneakerhead. I love sneakers, know a shockingly large amount about them purely by urban osmosis, but have lived on this Earth for 25.7 years with the mentality of wearing a single pair of incredible shoes until they were discolored, smelly, and at least three of my toes were exposed.

And I'm proud of this. Why? Because more often than not, said shoes that began pristine and ended up looking like victims of biological warfare were white-on-white, Air Force 1’s.

One of the truly unfortunate things about an All-Star Game in Orlando was how decentralized the festivities were. Every Point A to Point B was bound to be a 20-minute trip and a $30 to $40 cab ride, depending on how much road rage your cab driver had. So on Sunday evening, a few hours before the All-Star Game, when Anfernee "Penny" Hardaway offered to talk with me and drive me back to the hotel, there was just no way I could say no.

So, Penny … Being here for two days now, I feel like you are sort of the grand marshall of NBA All-Star Weekend in Orlando. You're back, Shaq's around, Dennis Scott is here. How does it make you feel to be here, getting so much love?
It took me back to the old times, especially when the three of us did the interview for TNT in the barbershop. It was a throwback to the days when we were playing together and the glory days of the Magic.