Bob's Blog

Imagine there was no Mark David Chapman. I do, a lot.

We’re approaching the 25th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. His life was taken by Chapman, a nobody who probably couldn’t scramble eggs. It’s all so pointless.

Yet I just read that a movie is being made about Chapman and the days leading up to the murder. Jared Leto will star as Chapman; Lindsay Lohan is also in the cast.

Sadly, it would be hypocritical of me to say that I won’t go see that movie. Because my fascination and admiration for Lennon is so enormous, I might. But not to get a glimpse into the pathetic life of Chapman, just another in a long line of losers whose crimes far outweigh their relevance.

I remember where I was when I heard about Lennon being shot. I was leaving a Wichita State basketball game that I had covered, just pulling on to 17th Street near Hillside. I was devastated because I so loved the Beatles and so loved Lennon.

How much more would Lennon have contributed to music? And, more importantly, society? He was controversial and poignant, a difficult and enthralling combination. And he was taken from us by a pathetic loser. Come to think of it, I am going to boycott the movie about him.

What is a curmudgeon like me thankful for? Let me think. I’m thinking. Give me just a minute.

Well, certainly I’m thankful for my son, Jeff. I’m thankful for all of the friends I have made over the years. Yes, friends. Plural.

I’m thankful for sports; they have allowed me to make a living. I’m thankful for 31 years at The Eagle, an anniversary I’m celebrating on Thanksgiving Day. Wow, 31 years. And to think, I look so young.

I’m thankful for my cozy house and for my Chrysler 300M (I’m really into possessions). I’m thankful for high definition television. I’m thankful for The Eagles, who have given me a near lifetime full of great music and 16 wonderful concerts.

I’m thankful for the St. Louis Cardinals. But go ahead and win a World Series one of these years, please. I’m thankful for Albert Pujols.

I’m thankful for my parents, both of whom are deceased. But not a day goes by that I don’t think about them. I’m thankful for my engaging personality. I’m thankful I’m not ignorant. At least I don’t think I’m ignorant.

I’m thankful I feel the way I do about almost everything. Because I’m right.

I’m thankful for Charlize Theron and Demi Moore. I’m thankful for Jack Nicholson and Al Pacino. I’m thankful I grew up in Derby and now live in Wichita. So many people seem to want to leave this place; I never have. And remember, I’m not ignorant.

I’m thankful for plans to build a downtown arena in Wichita. I’m thankful for the card game Spades, which occupies much of my leisure time. Wait a minute _ did I really admit that?

I’m thankful for good books and magazines. I’m thankful I still want to accomplish much more in life and that I’m not resting on my considerable laurels. Laugh if you must. I’m thankful to work with a bunch of good guys at The Eagle (many of them read this blog, this is a bone). I’m thankful that my good friend Weston Schartz invites me to spend Thanksgiving with his family.

I’m thankful I have retained about 90 percent of my hearing, 65 percent of my eyesight and 73.6 percent of my hair. I’m thankful I have the most popular blog in Eagle history (not that I have checked on this). I’m thankful I have gotten to know so many great people because of my job. And I’m thankful everyone who reads my columns loves them with such passion.

OK, that’s enough to be thankful for. I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving.

There was a time, not too long ago, that I told people I would never own a cell phone. I think of this because I just received my monthly bill. And I counted more than 150 incoming and outgoing calls.

I never, in my life, made or received 150 calls in a month before I bought a cell phone a couple of years ago. Now, I’ll be driving along and think of somebody I should call. Out of the blue. Me, someone who has long held a firm believe that telephones were an invention of the devil.

I store numbers. I get messages. I’m thinking of buying one of those Blackberries that all the cool people have. And all the while, I wonder what has happened to me.

I used to stand for something. I used to have a little maverick in me. If you went one way, I did everything I could to go the other. The worse thing you can say about me is that I’m like everyone else.

But when it comes to cell phones, I am like everyone else. I have one and I wear it out. I become offended when an hour goes by and I haven’t received a call. Sometimes I just sit and stare at my cell phone, hoping it will ring. But, then, a cell phone doesn’t ring. I have the song Lady Marmalade by Christian Aguilera, Pink, ‘Lil Kim and Mya programmed into my phone. I get a lot of strange looks because of that.

But it’s my cell phone and I’ll always try and surprise people with my ring tone. I am, after all, a maverick. Just less of one than I used to be.

My son, Jeff, wants to be a sportswriter. He wants to cover a major league baseball team. He’ll be 23 next month and is nearing graduation (knock on wood) from Wichita State.

I sometimes wonder why he wants to be a sportswriter, but it’s so obvious. He spent so much of his youth going to games with me. Specifically, I remember covering the Wichita Wranglers in 1987 and 1988. Jeff was in the press box with me for a bunch of those games. And he was interested in what was going on in the game.

Then he would be there as I did post-game interviews. And he watched as I wrote my story. Somewhere along the line, it got into his blood. The kid grew to love sports, just like his old man. And love writing, just like his old man. And he’s not really a kid anymore, is he? Time goes so quickly.

I hope he makes it. I hope he gets to do exactly what he wants to do for a career and in his life. Newspapers are a little bit scary right now as the ever-changing media world keeps spinning. And I’m a little bit nervous about it all. Aren’t most parents as their children get ready to embark on careers?

Excuse my sappiness, but being Jeff’s father has been my greatest life experience. Watching him grow. Seeing him succeed and, sometimes, fail. I look forward to seeing where he goes from here. With one eye closed, of course.

All of this downtown arena talk on the blog is getting people worked up. So let’s talk about something else. Like comedy.

Pictured at left is my favorite comedian ever, Don Rickles. I consider Rickles a role model, which might explain my abrasive personality and inability to win friends. But everything has a price.

I have seen Rickles twice in Las Vegas. My adoration for him started early, when he appeared on a Dean Martin Roast in the mid-1960s. After that, I tried to watch everything in which he appeared. The days in which Rickles was a guest on The Tonight Show were some of the best days of my life.

Yes, I know, it’s sad.

Rickles is 79 now, but he still appears regularly in Vegas and Atlantic City. Once in a while, he’ll show up as a guest with either Letterman or Leno. And he still makes me laugh uncontrollably.

Comedy is a necessity for me. What would this world be like without comedians? It would be one serious world, I’ll tell you that.

My top 10 comedians are: 1) Don Rickles; 2) Richard Pryor; 3) George Carlin; 4) Jonathan Winters; 5) Chris Rock; 6) Kevin James; 7) Steve Martin; Garry Shandling; 9) Robin Williams; 10) Johnny Carson.

Am I missing someone?