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There are cheer moms and then there’s cheer mom Raffeala Spone, 50, who is accused of a master plot to take out her daughter’s cheerleading rivals with an elaborate plan that included Ms. Spone using her Photoshop skills and her knowledge of video manipulation, according to Pennsylvania police who arrested the mom last week.
The plot allegedly hatched by Ms. Spone is quite interesting. She is said to have created fake photos and videos of her daughter’s rivals drinking and smoking in an attempt to get them kicked off the Victory Vipers, a Doylestown, PA cheer team.
Cops say Spone even went as far as to text the teenage girls with the photos and “urged them to kill themselves,” Bucks County District Attorney Matt Weintraub told the Philadelphia Inquirer. Parents started to come forward with complaints to the police and an investigation revealed texts coming from Spone’s phone.
What caused Spone to go to such extremes in order to take out her daughter’s rivals? One dad told the Inquirer he thinks it’s over his daughter being told “to stop hanging out with Spone’s daughter.”
Does this woman look like a mom who would attempt to take out her daughter’s cheer rivals? Her teammates? Look at those eyes. Look at that face. I’m no psychologist, but that looks like despair. That, to me, looks like a woman who is lost and is completely consumed by the war to have the best cheerleader in her town.
In Raffaela, I see a baseball dad who never had success and he has this one shot to turn his child into a superstar. I see a woman who has a tough time finding joy in life. I see a woman who never sits in the garage with her husband suckin’ down seltzers on a Friday night while listening to Van Halen Pandora, maybe even smoking a joint every now and then to take the edge off.
That actually might be the sentencing here: one month of jail and Raffaela is ordered to smoke a J at least once a week. Release that anger. Take a boxing class. Sauna. Jacuzzi. A massage once a month.
Girlfriend, your daughter’s going to leave the house here in a couple years, and you’re going to be left wallowing in misery. Now’s the time to find a weed dealer and R-E-L-A-X. I don’t even smoke Js, but I know someone who needs to when I see their mugshots.
Get it together, Raffaela.