I didn't say this in the story, "Angels & Heroes," because we wanted to keep it a surprise for Kevin, but all along we had planned to give Kevin the best seat in the house for the Bassmaster Classic weigh-in.
Here's the deal ... Denny's Grand Slam in the morning ... four cups coffee ... black. A meal that would pretty much last all day, if lunch was needed, two Butterfingers drowned by Vernor's.
Flux is my state of being. Movement is me. Not a pause kind of guy. I want eternally to be on the go.
When the giant of a man behind the cigar turned the ball over in my tiny 6-year-old hands so he could show me just three of the many signatures on the baseball.
After 30 some years in the business of mayhem, you harden to the upside-the-head whacks the universe hands out to humanity — the carnage we call civilization. When it comes to the victims, I tell myself, to escape from the mayhem on my keyboard or that viewed through my lens, that the vic's have had their time, be it long, or not so much, but they have had their time to laugh, to cry, to win, to lose, to be loved or — more importantly — to have loved.
I couldn't drive, I had to park, and all I could do was to listen to the child who had been blown up in the desert, and who told an old disbelieving guy that he was going to fish someday, that he was going to fish tournaments, and that he was going to win. And then, did just that.
I let the phone ring for a moment. It was Terry Baksay. And I knew what the phone call was about. His PET scan. His cancer. His purple sky.
Three weeks removed from having chemo flood his body, I found Terry out on the lake, taking his two state champion youngsters, pre-fishing. It was only about a day after having a PET Scan to see if cancer was still in his body. We are still waiting for that answer.
While covering a Federation Tournament, Don Barone reconnects with his Canadian roots.
Everyone starts out as an 'unknown,' but only a select few have the courage to swing for the fences.