Hello, Dallas/Fort Worth - Let's Talk Sports!

I had a very strange evening this week.

A guy I worked with at FOX for several years had been very sick.  His family spread the word over the weekend that they'd love to have anyone come by and see him, but we should do it NOW.

Me and a couple of other former work buddies went over to see Max at the hospital around 8pm.  When we arrived we were told that they'd removed all the machines. 

Max died about 15 minutes after we got there. 

In that final moment, surrounded by his wife and his son and his brother and some of his dearest friends, his sister-in-law started singing "Amazing Grace" and we all joined in.  It was so sad, but also so sweet.  I definitely went there preparing to see him near the end, but I certainly didn't expect to be there when he took his last breath.  I'm not going to lie and say that this was an extremely close friend.  Max and I worked together for 8 years, and in the 6 years since I left FOX we'd seen each other maybe 3 or 4 times.  Mostly just a few facebook posts lately.  So you'd think that I would feel strange being there with his closest friends and family at the end, but somehow I'm glad I was there.

The truth is, I wasn't exactly sure if I should even go over there in the first place.  And afterward, I still wasn't 100% sure why I did.  I've decided that it's really two things:

1) Some jobs are like families. 

If you've never had one of those jobs, this may be hard to understand.  But in a newsroom you're under the gun ALL the time and these are the people you go to battle with.  That's probably a bad analogy, but it's intense time together and often long hours and there are wins and losses all the time.  Perhaps a sports team is a more apt comparison.  The point is, you go through a lot in a short period of time - and all of it together.  There's a special bond there.  Case in point - Max worked in Baltimore for a few years before coming to Dallas.  On the night he died, the station he worked for there did a very touching tribute to him on the air.  Again - he had only worked in Baltimore for a short time and it was TWENTY years ago.  These bonds endure.

2) Max was special. 

I first met him when I was working for a small TV station making once-a-week visits to the "big city."  He always greeted me with a smile.  He learned my name.  And when I took a job with him at FOX he became a friend and a cheerleader.  Any time I did something on-air Max would come in the next day and tell me how great it was (even when it wasn't) and he would always tell me that his wife Marla was my biggest fan.  Max was honest and fair, sweet and just so genuine.  Ask around - it's hard to find anyone who can remember seeing Max in a bad mood.

Look, we all know Max wasn't perfect.  Nobody is.  Anyone who knows Max knows that he had his struggles.  But I never once saw him take his problems out on anyone else or try to point fingers.  Max was kind.  Max was caring.  And when Max laughed, his entire body was in on the joke - those high shoulders shook and he almost looked like he had a bobblehead.

You never really know what mark you leave on someone and vice versa.  Watching the outpouring from friends, coworkers and viewers it's obvious that Max had a big impact on those who knew him.  These last few days have taught me that he clearly meant a lot to me, as well. 

And yesterday another former co-worker texted me with this:  "Was at Max's house today.  This photo had a prominent place in his office."

And now I know EXACTLY why I spent Monday night with Max.  And mostly I just wish I had spent more.  Farewell, old friend.

A Farewell to Bowling

Tuesday, August 12^th will be my last day at USBC.  I’ve accepted a position with AT&T in Internal Communications.  They want to change the way they talk to their employees and they think I can help.  Before I go… I’d like to say a few words to my bowling friends.

Six years ago I didn’t know there was oil on the lanes.  I did my best to sound like I knew what I was talking about on-camera, but behind the scenes I was asking a lot of questions and soaking up as much information as I could.  Bowlers and proprietors all over the country were very welcoming and helpful and I thank you all for that.

To those who have worked for USBC – fight on!  Your passion is contagious.  It’s easy for those of us who come from outside the sport to enter into the campus and get a bit lost in the politics and the association structure and get discouraged by what can seem like an impossible task.  Your love for what you do is the best asset the company has.  It makes believers out of those of us who didn’t grow up with bowling.   You make us all want to do better.

And don’t YOU get discouraged!  Yes, membership may be falling, but it’s NOT YOUR FAULT.  Most of the outside world has no idea what you’re up against.  These are the people who ask “what am I getting for my $20?”  They don’t understand that more than half of that money never gets to Arlington.  They see their fees go up but don’t realize that it’s been nearly a decade since USBC asked for a dues increase.  Never forget that you give them the standardization of the sport, rules, protection of their money, certified averages, tournaments, Team USA, a scholarship program, coaching, live streaming of events, continuing research, support of wonderful charities… the list goes on and on - and you do it all for nine dollars!  It’s the best deal I’ve ever seen and those who don’t see it simply aren’t paying attention.  You’re always going to hear from the vocal complainers, but I’ve been in bowling centers all over the nation and there are so many people who light up when they see that logo on my shirt.  Keep doing what you’re doing for those people.

I hear it all over the country – “how do we fix bowling?”  The truth is, that’s the wrong question.  Bowling doesn’t need to be fixed.  The game is fine... it's the perception that has to change.  You just need to find a way to let the rest of the world see bowling the way you see bowling.  The rest will take care of itself.  I should know.  You convinced me.

And finally, to the bowlers – somehow this is the hardest part.  I feel like an honorary member of a very special club.  I’ve been down there on the lanes with you in your finest and worst moments.  I’ve shared victories and failures… dinners and drinks… card tables and the grind of the road with you.  You always made me feel like I belonged in those moments.  Your honest answers when the camera was on, and your friendship when the camera was off, made all of my work better.  You welcomed me with open arms and for that I will always be grateful.

So now it’s on to a new chapter, but don’t worry, bowling… I’ll be watching.  Thank you so much for allowing me into your world for a little while.  I know I’m better off for it.