The orignal story was written by Bob Kravitz of the Indy Star right?
Pointless story about Kravitz below (almost certainly not worth your time; but this reminded me of something long since forgotten, plus I'm bored):
Kravitz used to write for the Rocky Mountain News (a Denver paper, has since been acquired by the Denver Post). Long long time ago, this was. He frequented the same bar as my mother and stepfather in the late 80's--my sister and I were dragged along on many a night, given a handful of quarters, and told to go play Pacman or video poker. Sometimes we played, other times we kind of wandered around and, in time, we became mascots of sort for the Conville's crew--it was a tight-knit group, good people all. Ah but not Kravitz. Kravitz, he was different, cold, not like the rest. I have no specific memories to speak of--he never spoke to me, he merely looked at me; all I have is the memory of my 6 year old self's conviction in the belief that Kravitz was somehow wrong, cruel even. A few years later, when I was 9 or 10, the Conville's days but a distant memory, my love of all things Denver sports at a fever pitch, I began to read the sports section of the Rocky Mountain News religiously, front to back every day after school. And like that, Kravitz was back in my life, staring at me just as he had years ago, now from the picture that graced his daily articles, his unsmiling face considering me in that off-putting way some adults use to disarm and frighten unassuming children, as if for no other reason than it pleases them to do so. Despite the unsettling memory the first time I saw that face again, I read his article anyway. He was so smug and arrogant in his writing, and I finally understood fully, if not yet in words then at least conceptually, what it was about him that had led to such a strong aversion years earlier. Children have good instincts, I've heard it said. I believe this to be true. Despite my disdain, I read his articles daily; to spite Kravitz, or maybe so that my dislike for the man might grow, or perhaps just to punish myself, as a religious fanatic might repent by wearing a cilice for two hours a day. Anyway, I still remember Bob's final article in the News... What a joyous occasion! With a single word, and I should note, the only worthwhile word he ever wrote in Denver, the cilice loosened forever. The word: goodbye.
Anyway, I'm bored this morning, couldn't sleep. That's my Bob Kravitz story. Glad to know he's as insufferable as ever. I'd expect nothing less; I'd be disappointed with anything more. Hell, maybe he's not actually a bad dude. Perhaps my childhood intuition was merely irrational fear; perhaps Bob looked at me like that because that's simply how he looks. Perhaps he looked at me like that because he found it despicable that parents would allow their young children to spend so much time in a bar, and had he thought that, may well have been right. But man, whatever it was, he didn't merely make me uncomfortable. He scared the #### out of me. Whatever though. I do know that he's as smug, opinionated, and arrogant as they come. But that at least is probably in his job description.
I'm curious, Colts fans, do you guys like this cat?