Could I Have Scripted A Better Day?

Thursday morning, 8:39 a.m., my cell phone rang:

Eric: "Hey Neil, can you take tomorrow morning off?"

Neil: "Wow, I'd sure like to but I've been busy at work, so probably not. What's going on?"

Eric: "I just won tickets to go see Mike and Mike In The Morning."

Neil: "What time should I meet you?"


We were told we had to be at the Texas Motor Speedway by 4:30 am. It takes about 45 minutes to drive there from Eric's house. It takes me about 1:15 to drive from my house to Eric's house. It takes me about 25 minutes to get dressed in the morning. After factoring in extra drive-time, I set the alarm for 1:30 am.

At 9:30, I went to bed. At 10, everybody in the world decided to call me.

I have never had a problem with going to sleep. Generally, I can get in bed, turn on the tv, and within 30 minutes or so be sound asleep.

The problem for the past 15 years or so is waking up and falling back asleep. I didn't fall asleep until almost 11 after watching the Louisville/West Virginia game.

For the past couple of years, I've watched Mike and Mike while getting dressed. More often than not, however, I'll watch SportsCenter to catch up all the games from the previous night.

The two Mikes (Golic and Greenberg) are different in every respect, save one.

Golic is a Notre Dame alum and former professional football player. He wears jeans and comfortable shirts. He's tall, has dark hair, is a monstrous person, and doesn't talk a lot. He's a Man's Man.

Greenberg is a journalist. He wears button-down shirts and trousers. He's short, has light hair, is of normal build, and cannot stop talking to save his life. He's a metrosexual.

Both men, however, love sports. They love discussing, dissecting, and above all, debating sports.

For the past 10 years or so, I've thought about what would be the coolest profession in the world. For the longest time, my two options were golfer or baseball pitcher.

I've added a third - sports radio talk show host.

Where else can one get paid to talk for four hours every day about sports, be opinionated, and make fun of your co-host? This is a life, as Greenberg wrote, "investing everything into something that means absolutely nothing."

Where else can one get paid quite handsomely, I'm sure, to talk to Peter Gammons and Mel Kiper every morning?

That's exactly what I want.

For four hours, the Mikes debated about whether Peyton Manning is a better quarterback than Tom Brady, whether an undefeated Rutgers team gets to the BCS Championship game before a one-loss Florida, and whether one can Man Up and get a pedicure at the same time.

I have strong opinions about all three; all three debates mean absolutely nothing.

After the show and after playing baseball with Ethan in the backyard, I met Brian at his Longhorn Lunch Bunch for enchiladas and more football debate.

After getting home and taking a quick nap, Melissa and I finished the night with an early celebration of our anniversary at The Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant where all three courses are served raw, then dipped into a hot bowl of cheese, bouillon broth, or chocolate. It is truly culinary gluttony.

Sports, sports, and food.

Investing everything into something that means absolutely nothing.

My Alternate Life's Calling

I want to talk about the harmonica tonight. Yeah, the harmonica.

I want to buy a hamonica and learn to play it like no man has ever played it before. A red harmonica that is slightly rusty from age. One that has some wear and tear to it, just waiting for its master to claim it. I want people to listen to my mad harmonica skills and wonder if I'm human.

To preface this all, I have no musical talent whatsoever. Maybe a little bit less than that. Probably the same as Fergie.

When I was in sixth grade, all the kids had to take a test to measure their innate musical talent. The kids who scored well went into the junior high band while the musically impaired went back to their dodgeball games.

If memory serves correct, I was the only kid to fail the test. That may be childhood memory inflation, but I know I failed it. Badly. For the test, we had to wear headphones. Two notes would sound off and we had to write down whether one note was higher than the other, or if they were the same. But after a while, they all started to sound the same.

My musical ignorance actually goes back further than that. When I was in fourth grade, our music teacher tried to teach us the notes. I didn't really care if Every Good Boy Deserved Fudge or not. I asked if the notes we were learning were same notes as what musicians like the Beatles used in their songs. She said, Well, kinda, but not exactly. I still don't know what she meant by that. It was a yes/no question. If she was teaching us notes that Paul and John didn't use, I didn't care to learn them. So, two years later, I couldn't tell the difference between pitches. Plus, I'd never make a good harmonicist because of the awkward arm, not knowing how to hold it and sing at the same time.

So, I don't know what makes me think I could even begin to learn to play the harmonica. But after listening to Dylan and Morrison, I think we have comparable music skills. Neither of them can sing that well. I'll admit to Morrison's stage presence, but Dylan is as charismatic as melba toast.

But, I'd want to be the enigmatic folk singer who plays the harmonica. The folk singer who wears Brooks Brothers and votes more Republican than not. The folk singer who likes Dubya. Oh, and has to be in bed by ten. Maybe 1 on the weekends.

More about the harmonica.

Growing up, I had a good friend, Brad, who wanted to be in a band. When he moved from Wimberley to Austin in junior high, he found a group of friends and put together a band. Brad was their lead harmonicist; but he had to quit shortly thereafter because he lost his harmonica.

Last I heard, he moved out to Los Angeles and is an artist/musician. I wonder if he stays up late at night, wonders where that harmonica went and where he'd be if he held on it.

So yeah, the harmonica has weighed heavily on my thoughts today. Not that if I actually went in search of one I'd know what to do with it.