An Outside View: A Tribute To A Friend

The telephone rang, interrupting the silence as I relaxed alone reading a book. Irritated at the caller, although I didn’t even know who it was, I snatched the phone from the hook, anticipating one of those aggravating “courtesy” calls. On the other end was a voice that I hadn’t heard in longer than I care to admit. It was the wife of one of my best friends, Chris. The troubling news was shocking. My childhood friend was dying. I sat in stunned silence as she conveyed to me the story. Mastacized melanoma. No cure. Doctors say he doesn’t have long. I was dazed. I don’t remember the details if she told them to me. I thought of his four kids. The youngest, who isn’t even three, won’t even remember his daddy. This couldn’t be happening. It has to be one of Chris’ cruel pranks. I surmise that this is his way of punishing me for not staying in touch of late. The sobs on the other end of the line convince me otherwise. The next call came only five days later. Chris had died. I had talked with him just three days earlier and was planning a trip to Florida, where he recently moved, to hopefully try to raise his spirits. Instead, he will be coming home to stay. Chris and I were friends from the time we were four or five years old. Some of my earliest memories are of us trading baseball cards. To this day, I still have commemorative Joe Cronin and Lefty Grove cards that I snookered him for some 42 years ago. Then again, I wonder how many Mickey Mantle cards I gave up. Growing up, Chris was a diehard Yankees fan. I had been raised to hate the Yankees above all else. I was a Cardinals fan. He loved The Mick and I loved Stan the Man. You can imagine the arguments that we had as kids. One of my most pleasant childhood sports memories is of the 1964 World Series when my Redbirds beat his Bronx Bombers. Mickey, Roger, Yogi, and Whitey were no match for Bob Gibson and a bunch of old-timers. It didn’t get any better than that. In football, you were either a Colts’ fan or a Packers’ fan in those days. Chris idolized Johnny Unitis. Naturally, I was a Bart Starr fan and pulled for the Green and Gold. There were memorable battles but those were the glory years of Vince Lombardi and Chris and his Colts usually ended up playing second fiddle. And when the Colts finally made it to the Super Bowl, they ran into a guy named Broadway Joe. I really had fun with that one. He could only grin and bear it. Chris remained a steadfast Colts’ fan and was thrilled when they drafted Peyton Manning to lead them back to prominence. My allegiances had long since switched to the Redskins and Titans although I still have a fondness for the Pack. Chris was the funniest person I ever knew, even telling jokes in his darkest hour. He said he might start smoking and drinking Jack Daniels since he had nothing to lose. I tried to laugh but I wanted to cry. Although his quick wit and appearance may have led one to mistake Chris for John Candy, he was a gifted athlete even though he chose not to play any high school sports. He preferred rec league and intramural sports instead. We played literally thousands of pick up basketball games and I rarely was able to beat him. The one thing that we did agree on was our passion for the Big Orange. We went to UT together and witnessed many historic events on The Hill. We were there to watch with admiration the mastery of Ray Mears and the excitement of the Ernie and Bernie Show. We were there when Joe Paterno brought his Nittany Lions to Neyland Stadium for the first time and left beaten and bruised. Until the very end, UT sports dominated our conversations. Will Phil be able to win another national championship this year? Is Randy Sanders (who went to the same high school as we did) making the grade as an offensive coordinator? Can Buzz put the basketball program back on track? We grew up and went our separate ways but stayed in touch. We both found ourselves coaching youth sports. He was the best basketball coach I have ever seen. He could reach the kids on their level; he taught them fundamentals; and he won. He had the right formula for success and did it for all of the right reasons. When I sat down to write this week’s column, I stared at the blank screen of my computer. I had no idea what I wanted to write. I usually like to take a light-hearted approach and poke a little fun at something or somebody. But, I wasn’t in a laughing mood. In fact sports seemed so trivial at the time. But I thought of my friend and the importance of sports as a bond in relationships between us guys. Would I have the fond memories if it weren’t for sports? Would we have been friends if we hadn’t had that common interest? Sure, we put too much emphasis on it sometimes and a battle on the gridiron pales in comparison to a battle with cancer but I am glad that we could share our love for sports. I know that you didn’t pick up the sports page to read the ramblings of some middle age man who is feeling a real sense of his own mortality. I know that people die everyday and life goes on. So it will be with Chris. I will have the memories but I will miss my friend. This column is a tribute to him. I thank you for allowing me to use this space to say, “Thanks for the good times, friend. I will miss you!”