Bad Days Happen

Was Tweeting back and forth with folks last night when this popped up …

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I was sorta confused, so I asked Wayne to elaborate. Was I rude? Mean? What? He wrote …

Screen Shot 2013-07-29 at 10.42.19 AMMan. This one was a kick to the gut. Nothing—absolutely nothing—makes me more angry than arrogant journalists/authors; writers who think they’re the shit for a relatively inconsequential task (no matter how important sports books seem as they’re bring written, they’re—ultimately—entertainment. Mere entertainment). I apologized to Wayne, then apologized again. I don’t remember the interview, and certainly don’t remember ever thinking, after a radio chat, “Boy, I was a dick.”

Then, however, I started thinking about Stan Pearlman, my dad, and one of the best lessons he ever taught me. Long ago, he explained to me how people—all people—have bad days, and you have to take that into account when negative exchanges take place. Maybe a guy’s kid just threw up. Maybe his dog died. Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe he’s got a 104-degree fever. Just because someone acts the part of a jerk doesn’t mean, ultimately, he is a jerk.

Which isn’t to say I’m not one.

It’s just to say, ahem, hopefully I had a fever.

 

1 thought on “Bad Days Happen”

  1. This happened in 2007. Made a big impression on Randazzo, because he still remembers it vividly. JP has no recollection of the interview. Moral: We all live in our own little bubble of perception. Try to pop the bubble.

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