Skip Bayless is the man everyone loves to hate. 

He’s a professional troll, who has made millions of dollars for his unbearable hot takes. 

Now the old curmudgeon has turned 67 years old, and is doing some reflecting on his life, and his personal struggles. 

Skip Bayless published a lengthy autobiographical essay on Facebook, which recaps his adolescent years in Oklahoma.

Via Facebook:

“I was “raised” by an evil creep of an alcoholic father and a self-absorbed mother who eventually fell to the bottom of the bottle herself.

Now, when I read about an athlete who grew up without a father, I wish I had. Now, when I read about the single mother who loved her future-star son so much she worked three jobs while playing mother and father, I wish I’d had that mother. Not once did either parent ever ask how I was doing in sports or school or tell me they loved me. I was amused by the recent social-media controversy over how Tom Brady encouraged his son to kiss him on the mouth. I couldn’t have imagined either of my parents ever kissing me period.”

“My father’s abuse didn’t stop with the emotional or verbal variety. He did a lot of his own heavy lifting at the Hickory House, and in my childhood, before the alcohol began to weaken and shrink him, he was a black-haired, bad-tempered, muscled-up 5-foot-9 by maybe 180 pounds. When he got mad, which was often, he hit me in the face with his open right hand, always making sure he caught me in the cheek or lip or eye with his wedding ring, which would leave a bruise or welt or a little taste of blood. Freud would’ve had a field day with that. I put up with this until I was maybe 14, when one night I told him if he ever hit me again, I was going to hit back. He knew I meant it. I was big for my age. That was the end of the wedding-ring wounds. He was nothing but a coward of a bully.
From age 7 or 8 until I left home for good at 18, I spent just about every Friday and Saturday night at some friend’s house, just to stay away from my father. I didn’t even have to tell my mother where I was. Not once did a friend ever spend the night at my house. Not once. I had no curfew or ground rules.”

Does anyone feel bad for Skip, even after he spilled his guts on Facebook? 

I don’t think so, he’s been laughing his way to the bank for the last ten years. 

You can read his piece below: 

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