“I love my wife“. Four little words that mean so much. Yet how many times do you see professional athletes actually say those words, or do anything to express that rarely-heard sentiment? No – you often hear about athletes cheating on their wife, or trying to cheat on their wife, or women trying to force men to cheat on their wives by forcing their near-naked saline-filled breasts upon them, or women trying to spread sexually transmitted diseases to athletes so the athlete’s wife becomes a barren sterile shell of a woman all because of unseemly feelings of jealous and inadequacy.

But stories about a wife and husband truly in love, and unafraid to express it? People treat those sorts of stories like they’re some sort of sordid supermarket tabloid article about potatoes shaped like John Travolta. My Jackie’s presence in all aspects of my life became a running joke. Little “I love you” gestures between me and my wife during games became some sort of bean-counting contest between men whose own inadequacies shone through so clearly. And you know what? I don’t regret any of it, especially the gestures. In fact, I wish I did them more. I wish I could tell my Jackie I love her every waking moment. I wish I could send my thoughts of love to my Jackie in my sleep. I wish that, when I die, I could have a star in the heavens write I LOVE YOU JACKIE every night that I’m apart from her. And I wish that I wasn’t the only one that felt this way about their wife. If more men felt about their life-partners the way I feel about my Jackie, the world would be a safer, happier, more productive place to live and love.

There’s nothing to be ashamed about when it comes to telling the world that you love the woman you’re married to. And that’s why I am totally behind my former teammate Antonio Davis, and his fight with the NBA and some loudmouth fan. What is wrong with the world when a man gets SUSPENDED from his job for defending his wife’s honor? If some fan ever dared approach my wife, I know she would want me in the stands protecting her, just like she’s protected me all these years. It’s the least I could do for the woman that’s made me the man I’m proud to be today.

And all this vituperative chatter regarding Antonio’s wife being some sort of battleax? Shameful! These rumors about Ms. Davis’ less-than-lady-like demeanor are just scandalous myths! I haven’t had many dealings with Ms. Davis (since my wife rightfully prevents me from mingling with other women, because you never know what could happen), but I can’t imagine she’s as terrible as people make her out to be. This nonsense about her trying to attack the fan that was simply being a fan – I don’t want to bring up the issue of race, but please notice the skin color of the fan in question. It’s no wonder so many people think Antonio’s actions are indefensible. When has a white man ever warranted comeuppance from a black man for anything, I wonder? It’s definitely something to think about.

Anyway, all of this scandal brings me back to a truth my wife revealed to me many moons ago: it is nigh-on impossible for a professional athlete to sustain a career and a marriage. That is why I retired from basketball. I made my living as a “baller,” but my true calling is as a friend and lover. And just as basketball is a team game, a marriage is also a team game. A marriage is comprised of two individuals coming together to create an emotional organism that surpasses and subsumes those that enter the contract. Think of a marriage, or a relationship, or perhaps even a legal union, as a two-man team – you won’t win any championships if one person is forced to do all the work. The responsibilities must be shared equally.

For example – if it were just up to me, during my hurly-burly playing days, to keep myself away from other women, in addition to going to the gym and attending practice and donating time to charity, I would fail. I am a man, and I am fallible – my biological desire to procreate and inseminate would overwhelm my emotional and physical fealty to my Jackie. It would be like Game 7 of the 2002 Western Conference Championship all over again: me heaving up shot after shot, playing a team game as a one-man band, and falling ridiculously short every time. If it weren’t for Jackie, I have no doubt I would be spending my nights in some seedy after-hours club, cavorting with nubile exhibitionists that want to do nothing more than spend time with my celebrity between their firm, tan, lithe legs, pressing my lips against their soft, pliant skin, letting my nose bask in the glory of their luxurious feminine everything.

Having Jackie at my side at all times to keep me focused on what matters and what is important to the both of us saved me from this shameful inevitability. She dished me the rock so I could score the basket. She is my Mike Bibby. Except with nicer eyes. And my heart. Antonio Davis loves his wife. And I love my Jackie. And that’s all that matters.

I love you, Jackie. Forever.

Doug Christie is a 13-year veteran of the NBA. A reality show revolving around the lives of Doug and his wife, Jackie, is currently in development with VH-1.