| Dave
Diles.
Leon Hart was the last honest-to-goodness lineman
to win the Heisman Trophy. He made me violate
a long-held belief: Journalists should NEVER
enter into a personal relationship with someone
they may be writing or talking about.
Leon was a man of hard-held opinions and never
won a single popularity contest among his peers.
He was a brightman, a solid family man and very
spiirtual. And exceedingly subborn. He like
to laugh and even more, make you laugh.
He died a couple years ago and I think of him
every once in a while. Like the other day, when
John Vrana and his crew asked me to write a
piece for his website. Now, your reading something
from a technically-impaired, computer-illiterate
Neanderthal who is very comfortable, thank you,
mired in the 20th century.
Leon loved to quote Moose Krause, his old Athletic
Director at Notre Dame, who was fond of giving
his advice on aging: Never read the obituaries,
never pass a chance to urinate, when you find
out a friend is having an affair, find out who
is catering it.
"Is it possible," John Vrana wrote,
"for you to write an article, bi-weekly
or monthly for Team Ferior.Net?"
He quickly added, "As of this time, the
budget or lack of budget of Team Ferior does
not allow me to make a cash offer for your services."
At long last, someone is willing to pay me what
I am worth:
And so, I am not passing up this chance---like
Moose and Leon and the advice about the urinal.
After all, except for the odd time when my wife
Kay asks me to take out the trash, it's the
first time in years I have been invited to do
anything:
Here the Update: As John and his cohorts may
have told you in another dispatach, I slipped
out of ABC Sports in 1982, fiddled around with
CBS Sports for a season, free lanced on the
West Coast for three years or so, then settled
back into book writing. I've done eight and
don't fret, Not a single one is required reading
in the schools.
I didn't learn a whole lot at Ohio University
but I learned to count early in my school years
at Middleport, Ohio. Once day I counted my money
and determined that I had to live the rest of
my life, provided I didn't life too long. I
rarely do interviews ( I'm rarely asked to comment
on anything), I have no plans to do anymore
books or speeches (I've said everything I wanted
to say) and except for some stubborn doctors
at University of Michigan Hospital who refuse
to lie about my condition, I live a contented
life with a friendly golden retriever and a
sometimes friendly mate named Kay. I could be
at an Athletic Contest at Ohio University with
a seven minute drive but if they played in my
backyard, I wouldn't raise the shades. I don;t
know how many sporting events I've covered in
a dozen years with the Associated Press, five
years in newspaper work and more than a quarter
century in television and radio, I do know I
have seen enough.
Incidentally, John sent me a sweat shirt a year
or so ago, and just last week sent me what is
either a field hockey stick or lacrosse stick
(then again, it's a back scratcher for an exceedingly
tall man) and a pair if robins-egg-blue sneakers.
They're the right size, but since since I live
in the middle of the Bible-Belt Appalachia,
I can't bring myself to wear them.
Now, if I run into Richard Simmons.............
|
