Just got to the part in Lennon's biography where he gets shot and killed.
Got a sinking feeling in my heart, goosebumps on my body.
December 8, 1980.
Most people heard about it through Howard Cosell on a Monday Night football broadcast.
PATS/dolphins.
The book talks about that and how the rest of us picked up on something bad the next morning when there was nothing but Beatles songs on the radio.
I was one of them. Eating breakfast, probably some ridiculous bowl of cereal, listening to the radio wondering why the hell they were playing back to back Beatles' songs.
Radio had already wimped out at this point. No individuality, no creativity. Playlists ruled and bored, and you just didn't play multiple songs by one artist.
I knew something was wrong.
Turns out something was very wrong.
In an interesting aside, it is obvious I had not stayed up to watch THE PATS play the dolphins on Monday night football.
I was not yet a die hard PATS fan, just a football freak.
Can't blame Keith, though. He was only 7 months old at that point. His influence had not made its way into my heart yet at that point EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT HE WAS MY FIRST BORN SON AND I WORSHIPPED EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM. (Still do.)
He couldn't even talk. But I am sure he was thinking on that Monday night when I went to bed, probably at half time, Dad, what the hell are you doing? For Christ sake it's THE PATS. Have some balls.
He was probably also thinking, Christ, this one is gonna be a lot of work.
PATS lost 16-13.
The world lost John Lennon.
I re-lived it this morning for the thousandth time.
What is it with these guys?
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