The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States

One Word: UNSTOPPABLE AWESOMENESS!!!

Thursday, October 13, 2005

My Hero


Every morning, I receive the Writer's Almanac email. This morning's edition included a poem from my hero, Wendell Berry. His poem, "How To Be A Poet," is read by Garrison Keillor.

I am not following my hero's advice. I am not shunning the electric wire. I am not staying away from screens.

And when I get compliments from readers of this blog, I do not doubt your judgment.

Also, in case you are a Berry fan, or just want to read a good book or two, check these new books he is coming out with at amazon.com


Wednesday, October 12, 2005

The Reason Why I Didn't Get Upset That The Red Sox Lost

As well as the reason why I didn't get too excited last year when they won.

For the past few days, a few people, mostly Yankee fans and the such, have been rubbing it in about the Red Sox losing. I just try to smile and shrug it off. I always say, well, you know, it is just a game. It doesn't really matter. They always say, yeah, sure whatever. But they don't understand why, they don't understand my perspective.

Some might think it was the fatherly advice I was given when I was a kid.

"Son," my father said, "team sports suck."

I used to get upset with sports as a child. I couldn't hold my emotions in when Rex Chapman left my beloved Wildcats. And sometimes, when I see the Laettner shot, I wince in pain, remembering that pain and heartache.

I like to think that I have grown up since then. I would like to think that I don't get emotionally distraught and depressed because of a game that I have no control over.

I know people he can't speak after their team loses. Not me. Not anymore. Not after the past two years.

For the past two years, during the last game the Red Sox played, I have received a phone call from an old friend. And he hasn't had very good news either time.

Last year, he called me during the last two innings of the World Series. I asked him how his life was, and he said not so good. We had a long talk. He talked about an affair, a marriage dissolving, and a miscarriage. I could hear the hurt in his voice. I remember the line went silent as we both watched that last out. He said he had to go, he need to go get blitzedt to celebrate and maybe forget.

That night, I wanted to celebrate the ending of years and years of Red Sox frustration, but I just couldn't. I couldn't feel good, so I just brushed my teeth and went to bed.

This past Friday, as the Red Sox were once again playing their last game, this time the Red Sox ended their final game with a loss, I received a phone call. All those old demons are rearing their ugly heads. I heard the hurt in his voice. There was pain, lots of it. So much doubt. He wanted answers, I think, but most of all he just wanted to let all his emotions out. He said he trusted me because he knew that I wouldn't judge him and that I would listen to him. We talked for a while. I don't know if it did any good, but I hope it did.

I am glad he trusts me, to listen and to care.

But most of all, I am glad that I didn't care if the damn Red Sox blew it again...

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

The Greatest Story My Father Has Ever Told

A couple of months ago, I was waiting to hear if my Aunt Jodi had delivered her little daughter that turned out to be a little boy. So I called my father to ask him, but he said no. Then he told me to remind him some day to tell the story of the day that I was born and he had the worst hangover of his life. I said, wo wo wo. I had to hear this story. And this is what he told me...

The day I was born, my dad had the worst hangover of his life. He and my mother had been to a party in Evansville. Now this was back in my dad's "smoking" days. No one else at the party smoked, they were kinda straight people. Well, he stuck these two joints in his hat, he figured that would be a good place for them. After a while, he began to look for his joints. He couldn't find them. He looked in his hat, nothing there. He looked down on the ground and saw them. So he kinda picked them up on the sly (his word) and took my mother home.

On the way home, he was driving a Volkswagen, but had to get off on the side of the road because two jerks were drag racing.

The next day, he, my mother and my grandmother went shopping. All my dad could think of was getting back home and going to sleep. After a long day on his feet, my dad and mom went home. My dad had just sat down and gotten to sleep when my mother shook him and said, "It's time."

My father's reply, "Time for what?"

So my dad took my mom to the hospital. The doctor that was working had been in school with my uncle, so they talked for a while. But the doctor that my dad knew went off of rotation. So my dad was sitting in the room with my mom when he saw some guy in a trench coat that looked like Columbo. My dad, thinking this guy was a peeping tom went outside to confront the Columbo-looking guy.

Just before my dad punched this dude's lights out, he found out that this was the doctor.

I was born.

Then my dad was holding me and walking down the hallway. The Columbo-looking doctor told my dad that I was a very good looking son. My dad asked the doctor what he was going to do now that he was done for the day. The doctor told him that he was going to go home, take a shower, take a nap and hopefully get laid.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Birthday Party

Hey everyone, if I haven't seen you this weekend, then you might not know about the birthday party (even though my birthday is tomorrow) I am having at Benson's Bar B Q in Dickson Street from 8ish until probably the end of the football game. So if you are in Northwest Arkansas and an avid reader of this blog, come on down. It is gonna be fun.

Oh yeah, and for a birthday treat, I will retell the greatest story my father has ever told me. The story of the day I was born. It's good stuff. It starts out like this...

"The day you were born I had the worst hangover of my life..."

It gets even better from there...