Close Encounters of the 1310 Kind

The Ticket had a road show just a mile or so from the house, I made a sojourn.

The wife had to make it to her class which meant that I would have the kids in tow, but I was undeterred. And, to my relief, there was free popcorn and ice cream and plenty of room for milling about. I cruised past the broadcast table to the women's room and imposed a bathroom visit onto my daughter, surveying the room while I waited for her to re-emerge.

Golf was taking priority over the show, which was fine with me. Those in attendance were consumed in the tournament's goings on, leaving a birth around the two broadcasters, isolated despite the pumping of the monitors. I lugged my kids over to the promotions table, collected whatever I could find to interest them, and waited for the show to reach a stopping point. After consuming some popcorn and cleaning orange push-pop off of my daughter, it was my time to shine.

I approached the table, introduced myself to Corby, then Mike. I have gathered from years of listening that Mike is not the most accommodating of strangers, so I kept my engagement with him short, "I was hoping I could get Mike, here, to sign my Ursuline shirt."

"Sure" he responded

Corby chimed in, "Where did you get that?" Things were going very well.

"The McCart thrift store. I found it on the rack for 99 cents."

"What a deal" Mike says as he finishes his duty and strolls toward the bar.

I turn toward the Snake, busy feeding on beef tips, green beans, and mashed potatoes, and asked nervously, "Could I get you to do a quick interview for my blog? It's only 5 or 6 questions, not a big deal . . ."

He continued chewing but waved me on. Yes!

"Who is funnier: Myrtle the phone operator, Ezekiel of 7th heaven, or Greg Williams?"

"Greg Williams" no hesitation.

"When was the last time you played hockey?" I sputtered.

A stare.

A panic. "It's a hockey blog", I explain.

"Charity Challenge . . . '06?" he tries to recall, "I really liked it, I'm not done for good." Amazing, he is trying to play to me.

I grabbed a pointed stick, I had him where I wanted him, "Why do you hate Lynn Kawano?"

"Lynn Kawano?"

"She's a reporter, for Fox Four."

"I don't. Why would I hate Lynn Kawano?" What a terrible cover, denial. I think we all deserve a little more respect, especially Lynn. But I let it lie.

"Which event has had a more profound affect on your life: the birth of your son," I paused, "or the death of Payne Stewart?"

I had touched a nerve. He shook his head, the weight of which fell into his sweating hands, he knew he would be on the record, "The birth of my son, but Payne Stewart is a close second."

Now I had him on the ropes, let's see how he get's out of this one. "When did you graduate from O U?"

He waited, "I didn't, no wait, 1975. Just after their second national championship." Yeah, right. Just wait until I get home and do some fact checking. There is no way this guy is 55.

Then I went for an editorial, "The repealing of the Ipod ban at Whiterock. Corby, your take?"

The poor guy was reeling from the string of fastballs firing at his head, "Bulls***!", he exclaimed (thus I used an exclamation point). Now I was staring. There before me, he sat with his Ipod within his reach, I didn't understand.

"No, they REPEALED the ban on Ipods."

He was now on the same page, "Oh, they did? Well that's great", Corby was about to reverse the whip, " because I hate running with people, and talking with people, and being around people . . . "

My heart sank. I picked up my crip sheet and turned from the table, slowly walking away. Then I heard the cackle. Ah! You got me, Snake! A few more pleasantries and a handshake and it was over.

Thank you, superbowl.