The day I met Dick Vitale

 
You know how lots of people love to say, "I don't really get star struck."  I'm not going to blatantly lie to your face and say that.  Famous people occasionally give me pause.

When I was reporting on the UNC basketball team 2 years ago, I ran into lots of sports celebs, and if I would have had a camera phone at the time, I would have clicked some pics.  Among others, I met:  Roy Williams, all the UNC basketball players, Phil Ford, Coach K (loser), Gary Williams (Maryland), Andy Katz (ESPN), Seth Davis (CBS), and Erin Andrews.  These were brief encounters.  Don't get me wrong; I wasn't partying with these people.  Actually, I was...They just didn't know it.

Anyway, I also met Dick Vitale.  This was not a brief encounter.  I feel like I know him very well now...Too well, maybe.  He came to broadcast a couple of games in Chapel Hill in 2008-2009, and I had seen him already, but on the night Clemson came to town, I got to meet the man, the myth, the legend.

Aight, so it was halftime, and I needed to use the restroom, so I made my way into the UNC media room bathroom.  It is not an adequate facility.  2 stalls for about 50 users.  I go in there and hear what sounds like a man in serious pain.  It sounded like a dude was A) constipated B) giving birth C) doing an intense workout in the stall or D) dying.  All I heard was "ohhhhhaahhhhwhoaaa!!!  Oh!  OOOOOOOO!"  Needless to say, I was confused.


So, like any good man...I ignored it, and acted like nothing was happening.  I do my thing, and get ready to wash my hands.  Next thing I know, I hear "Woo!" and out of door number 2 walks Dick Vitale.  Awesome.
It was just me and him.  Mano y mano.  He exclaimed with excitement:  "I BEEN HOLDING IT ALL DAY, BABY!!!!"  Incredible.  I laughed loudly.  Mind you, Dick Vitale doesn't know me from Adam.  Then--without washing his hands--he puts his right hand on my back, gives me 2 pats and 2 shoulder squeezes.  Awesome.  Gross. But awesome.  I'm now drying my hands, and I left the water running because I thought to myself, "Dick Vitale will wash his hands now, so I will leave this faucet running to impress and befriend him."

Instead of immediately jumping to the sink, he just stands there and says, "how's it going?"  I said, "just hanging out at the Dean Dome and getting paid for it.  Another day at the office.  You?"  His face lit up.  And then, just like he was reading from his own quote book, he said, "Oh, what an office!  What an office!  How lucky are we?  We get paid for this?  Are you serious? ARE YOU SERIOUS?  Incredible!"  I immediately thought, "you get paid a lot more than me, but I'll buy that."  This was an unbelievable conversation, and I wasn't taking it for granted, but I was still thinking that any second, Dick Vitale is going to wash his hands.  I mean, the faucet was still running... 

At this point, I'm completely done but I'm just standing there.  With my hands in my pockets.  In the bathroom.  Talking to Dick Vitale.  NBD. 

Finally, he steps up to the sink.  He puts both hands in the running water.  Clearly I'm thinking, "there it is!  It's hand-washing time for Dickey V!!!"  Instead of reaching for the soap, he wets his hands and puts them on top of his bald head...."IT'S HOT IN HERE!  GOTTA COOL OFF!  LITTLE SPLASH WILL FIX IT.  THIS BALD HEAD GETS HOT!  YOU GOT HAIR.  HOW HOT ARE YOU?"

I didn't know what to say.  So, I didn't say anything.  I gave him a confirmatory nod with my lower lip protruding.

He then wiped his unclean hands on his pants.  "Nice talking with you.  Enjoy the office!" he said.  Then, he walked out.  If this story were a western, he would have rode off into the sunset.  I never saw him again.  So long Dick Vitale.  So long. 

Wash your hands. 

Save the Date

I've got a "Save the Date" more important than any magnetic wedding announcement on your fridge...

July 4, 2076.  The frickin' tricentennial, baby.  Simple math tells us that most of us probably won't make it to the tricentennial.  Dates of birth, life styles and life choices make the likelihood for some much less than for others.  For me, it's the only thing that would be cool about being 91years old.  I give myself a near 0 % chance of making it that far, but if I do, I'm going to set off enough fireworks to singe everyone's eyebrows within a 2-mile radius.  

As a fan of America, the reasons for getting pumped about this date should go without saying.  But aside from celebrating 300 years of independence from those pricks on the other side of the pond, I'm curious to see what fantastic coinage the US mint thinks up to celebrate the event.  Of course, the United States may not exist in 2076, but if it does, you can guarantee the mint is going to be busy. 

In 1975, the US mint had three separate $5,000 prizes up for grabs for whoever could come up with the best designs for the bicentennial quarter, half dollar, and silver dollar.  Jack L. Ahr submitted the design of the colonial drummer for the bicentennial quarter.  Fantastic.  Maybe I'll submit an idea for the tricentennial quarter design way ahead of time in hopes of winning a prize for that contest.  You know, something classy and American like Dale Earnhardt Sr. driving the number 3 Goodwrench car with an outstretched hand and a middle finger directed at an etching of Great Britain.  Who knows?  I'll keep working on it.   

Kitty Cat Nightmare

Last night I had a nightmare about cats.  I woke up, and after I had time to calm down from a feline frenzy, I laughed it off thinking, "this is going to seem so silly and funny later on." 

Well, right now I'm still thinking that dream was flipping scary.  In the dream, I was just hanging out in some old house, and three gangly cats came in looking for trouble.  I was like, "oh, look, little kitties.  N.B.D."  But then they started attacking me.  One bit my ankle, one bit me on my thigh, and one bit my arm.  None of them would let go, and then they started scratching me.  Awful.  Just awful.  Finally I shook them off, and they ran away, but then an animal control dude came out of nowhere and was like, "Yeah, you've got rabies now.  We're going to have to take you in".....

And then I woke up. 

The only reason I can think of for having a bad dream about cats is that 3 out of the last 4 mornings that I ran, black cats ran out in front of me.  I'm not superstitious, but still, it was odd and mildly creepy. 

Welp, that's all I've got.  If you didn't think I was weird before, you probably do now.  You know what?  Everybody's weird.  C-ya later

Nothing beats an entertaining lunatic

99.99 % of the time, pop up advertisements are a waist of my time and anything but entertaining.  But sometimes, advertising agencies with deep pockets convince lunatics with histories of brain damage and drug use to do a commercial for an online marketing blitz.  The result is a masterpiece by Vitamin Water starring Gary Busey.  The easiest way for someone to act convincingly like a wild psycho is to actually be one.  Bravo, Gary Busey.  This is Oscar-worthy stuff:



This is quickly becoming my favorite commercial of all time.  Homeboy makes a donkey noise at the :58 second mark.  Gary Busey reminds us all to never ride motorcycles too fast or without helmets, and to never try crack.  Thank you, Gary Busey.  And thank you Vitamin Water.