Reality Check (eBook)
249 Seiten
Ballast Books (Verlag)
978-1-962202-04-6 (ISBN)
b044>
Mike "e;The Situation"e; Sorrentino gives fans the inside scoop they've been begging for with his explosive tell-all. In this page-turning whirlwind of action-packed, unbelievable stories, Mike paints a raw and uncensored picture of his rise to stardom, steep fall, and amazing renaissance, all told with unwavering honesty. Divulging everything from drug-fueled orgies to what really happened behind the scenes of reality television's most loved and dysfunctional family, Mike's book reveals all for the first time. In his familiar, straightforward voice, he hilariously tells of intoxicated run-ins with celebrities like The Rock, Robert Downey Jr., Drake, Jay Leno, Leonardo DiCaprio, David Hasselhoff, Jason Statham, Lil Wayne, Kristin Cavallari, Whoopi Goldberg, and more. Alongside the comical moments, he describes more poignant events, such as the frantic searches for opiates to sate excruciating withdrawals, including one such time in Italy, which led to the infamous wall headbutt fight with Ronnie. No punches are pulled in this unfiltered tale, relating Mike's darkest thoughts after trying heroin, going to prison, and grieving his wife's tragic miscarriages. However, like in all true redemption stories, Mike never gave up, and readers are sure to be inspired by his determination to get clean and sober and become the man he is today. With pure candor and vulnerability, he delivers details on the mindset that got him through those dark times and onto the enlightened, sober path he walks today. Through personal anecdotes and invaluable life lessons, Mike teaches readers how to overcome obstacles and embrace change. From conquering personal demons to finding redemption, he proves that it's never too late to turn your life around and make the best of any situation. Get ready for a reality check like no other as you immerse yourself in Mike "e;The Situation"e; Sorrentino's exhilarating memoir. Preorder Reality Check: Making the Best of The Situation How I Overcame Addiction, Loss, and Prison today and join Mike on a journey of self-discovery, resilience, and the pursuit of living your best life.
CHAPTER 1
Meet the Situation |
Linda Sorrentino (Mama Peaches), Mike’s mother:
Mike and I both almost died during his birth. It’s a miracle we even made it that far.
When I got pregnant with Mike in the fall of 1980, both his father and I were incredibly excited. We had two boys already, and we just knew this would finally be our little girl. But nothing with this pregnancy would go as planned.
Early on, I started to bleed and have pains, and my doctor informed me there was a good chance I would miscarry. I was devastated to think that I could lose this baby before it even had a chance at life. But as the months went on and I maintained strict bedrest, I became more optimistic that the pregnancy would go to full term.
It was already hot and sticky the morning of the Fourth of July in 1981 as my husband and I discussed our plans for the day; we would be attending a family barbeque celebrating Independence Day. I was eating breakfast when the phone rang, and as I stood to answer it, I felt fluid pouring out of me. I assumed my water had broken, but when I looked down, I saw a massive amount of blood on the kitchen floor. I was hemorrhaging.
When I got to the hospital, they placed me in a bed with my feet in the air and my head toward the ground in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Though I wasn’t in labor, they told me they had to get the baby out and scheduled an emergency C-section.
When I woke from the general anesthesia, I was told that my baby was in intensive care and had been born blue for lack of oxygen. They said I had lost so much blood that a transfusion was needed. My placenta had partially ripped, and the doctors said that if it had fully torn away, both my son and I would have died. For the next several days, I was on very strong painkillers and unable to see my baby while we both recovered from the trauma.
I remember when it was finally time to leave the hospital and go home, a nurse came up to me. “What did you name your little boy?” she asked with a smile on her face.
“Michael Paul,” I answered proudly. The change in her expression surprised me.
“Are you sure you want to name him that?” she said.
“Of course. Why?”
“Michaels are known for being very active and aggressive,” she answered.
I scoffed. “Oh, that’s not true,” I said, pushing my bundle of joy toward the exit, ready to get home to my family.
For a while, the nurse’s ominous comments carried no weight. Thankfully, Mike was a very good baby. My other two boys, Frank, six years old at the time, and Marc, two, were much more rambunctious at that age. As a baby and younger child, Mike was incredibly calm. I could place him in his playpen with a few toys, and he would sit for hours, playing silently. I actually asked his pediatrician if something was wrong with Mike because I wasn’t used to such an easygoing boy. The doctor laughed and said that was just his personality. Calm and quiet. He told me to enjoy it, so I did.
Mike was such a sweet little boy. I remember when his cousin, a little girl six months older than him, would come over to play, she’d take his toys away. Most kids would get mad or grab them back, but Mike would just sit there and look at her, as if communicating, “Okay, go ahead. You can take those.” He wouldn’t cry or try to fight her.
That all changed sometime in middle school. My tranquil and shy boy became outgoing, assertive, and mischievous. He was always into something, though never anything too malicious. He was a prankster who was popular and extroverted with lots of friends. Our house was the neighborhood hangout with kids of all ages coming and going constantly. Usually, they were up to some shenanigans. Throughout Mike’s childhood, we received plenty of calls about his behavior from teachers and principals.
I remember once in high school, Mike was tired of waiting for the traffic jam leaving campus to clear, so he decided to jump the curb with his white Isuzu Rodeo and drive across the front lawn of the school. Unfortunately for him, the principal was standing right there and jumped in front of Mike’s car, waving his arms for him to stop. That didn’t hinder Mike, who abruptly swerved to avoid hitting the principal and kept going. I don’t remember how we punished him for that one, but I’m sure it was severe. Mike was always grounded. His bedroom would often be stripped nearly empty, save for the bed, after we removed all his belongings as punishment. Those punishments never seemed to have much effect.
Even with all that, Mike was still a good kid. His escapades were never mean-spirited or ill-willed. He was just an energetic, carefree young man who would do anything and everything just as long as you told him not to.
Mike:
I grew up in a stereotypical Italian family, a shining example of the middle-class American dream. Food and family—those were the things most important in our home. Our Sorrentino (Dad’s side) and Arena (Mom’s) ancestors had emigrated from Italy to create wonderful lives for themselves and their families in America, allowing future generations to reap the benefits of their risks and hard work. I was a member of one such generation.
One side of my father’s ancestors hailed from a town in the Naples region of Italy called Cavo di Terra in Santa Lucia. The other side came from Avellino. My great-grandfather immigrated to this country in 1906 at the age of fifteen with a total of sixteen dollars in his pocket. He spoke no English, received no government handouts, and knew only a few distant relatives in America. Yet he would raise eight children and become the proprietor of a thriving bakery on Henderson Avenue in Staten Island that he ran until his death. Even before that, back in Italy, there are stories about Francesco Sorrentino marrying Carolina Pasquale. Carolina’s father and brother were men of respect in their village and not people to be trifled with.
Both sides of my mother’s family were Sicilian. Her father, Salvatore Arena, was one of sixteen children and grew up in the Little Italy section of New York City—Mulberry Street. Her mother—my grandmother—came from royal blood, the Barricas, including a baron with a castle and family crest in the old country. Once they all settled in America, they successfully ran various businesses and unions while following the American dream.
My parents worked hard and raised four happy, healthy kids, starting the family on Staten Island before eventually relocating to the suburbs of New Jersey. The oldest, my brother Frank, is followed by Marc, then me, with our little sister, Melissa, bringing up the rear.
We grew up very close, us four siblings. Marc and I are about two years apart, and we did everything together as kids. We shared a room, played sports together, and traveled the country for taekwondo competitions on a martial arts team our father coached. Marc was a black belt, I was a brown belt. A room in the basement grew full with our collected trophies.
I was a natural athlete, and sports always came easy. I excelled at football, though by the time I reached high school, I was more concerned with my looks, getting girls, and being popular than joining the team. I was one of the fastest players freshman year, the last year I played, but I never applied myself. I wish I had. I remember our father saying that I had the talent, but Marc had the work ethic and coachability; if we ever teamed up, we’d be unstoppable. Of course, years later, Uncle Sam would have his own opinion on the Sorrentino brothers dream team, but we’ll get to that later.
Mom was a homemaker who never failed to have dinner on the table at five o’clock every evening. She always put out an amazing spread, whether it was manicotti, stuffed shells, chicken cutlets, fresh mashed potatoes, cavatelli and broccoli, spaghetti and meatballs, etc.
Sundays meant Sunday Sauce. Mama Peaches started her preparation early in the morning, her thick red sauce simmering throughout the day, filling the house with the smell of cooking tomatoes, meatballs, sausage, and braciole. To this day, Mama Peaches is still the best cook I’ve ever encountered. I’ve traveled the world and eaten at famous restaurants in Italy, and I’d put her cuisine up against any of those chefs’. I always say one day I’m going to open up a restaurant for my mom.
In my family, food made our house a home. It was an important value instilled early in my life and one that I teach to my son. We have as many meals together as possible. The Sorrentinos believe family is supposed to sit together and eat together. That’s what’s important in life—breaking bread and eating food made with love with the people you love.
My pops, Frank Sr., worked as an electrical engineer, and I can neither confirm nor deny whether he may or may not have had some, ahem, shall we say ties to a well-dramatized and maybe glamorized criminal organization known for its members wearing shiny suits and possessing last names generally ending in a vowel. That was pretty typical for an Italian neighborhood on Staten Island in the eighties.
The Mafia lifestyle was part of growing up in our community, and even when we moved out to Jersey, we saw its ripples. If anything, the Mafia was romanticized in my household. Goodfellas was always playing on the TV. Then, we would see those same types of guys whispering to each other at back tables in our neighborhood restaurants.
That’s partially...
Erscheint lt. Verlag | 19.12.2023 |
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Sprache | englisch |
Themenwelt | Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte |
ISBN-10 | 1-962202-04-6 / 1962202046 |
ISBN-13 | 978-1-962202-04-6 / 9781962202046 |
Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
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