It's my call of the day, and it's still lunchtime.

So our department gets paged over the P.A. system.

Of course, I'm in the, um, reading room.

So I scramble out to pick it up.

"Hey, yeah, there's a player I think you ought to do some coverage on."

Okay, what sport?

"Junior high basketball, over at F_____r, he's a good one."

We usually don't put much energy into the junior highs. How tall is he? Six-10, Seven feet?

"Naw, he's maybe 5-1."

Well, what's he averaging – 40, maybe 50 points a game?

"Oh, no, maybe 16-17 points a game."

Well ... thanks for calling.

 

He tries hard too...
That indifferent attitude of yours is going to cost him a scholarship one day

 

He goes to Fucker Junior High?

 

Falkner, actually.

 

Was it that old bastard who doesn't subscribe?

Or Mike?

 

No ... this was a middle aged guy. Probably the kid's dad or uncle.

You know, I don't think the nice old guy from Pontotoc – who didn't subscribe to our paper but always used to call to ask about scores or whatnot – has called here since I got back in the summer of 2006. Maybe once. I'm afraid he may have gone on.

The crusty old guy who used to call and complain about the TV listings is rarely heard from. I'd like to think that's because we do a better job, but I doubt it. I do think it's a good day when he doesn't call.

Blind Mike ... well, I rarely hear from him, but he does call, and usually at the worst moment.

 

My guess?

It was BigDog prank-calling you.

Provided, of course, he could pull himself away from writing his next Pulitzer-worthy junior high hoops gamer.