Might As Well

A while back I watched "A Football Life" about Dwight Clark.

You know, the guy who made "The Catch". He played for the 49ers.

January 10, 1982 - NFC playoff game between the Cowboys and the 49ers, 58 seconds left in the game, Niners down 27-21, Clark makes a leaping catch in the back of the end zone to tie the game. The extra point won the game. The 49ers went on to win Super Bowl XVI.

I got educated. I always wondered what the big deal was, always felt it should be called "The Throw" because Montana put the ball exactly where it needed to be.  Of course there is some prejudice there because I loved Joe Montana (is that not the greatest football name ever?) and did not know a goddamn thing about Dwight Clark.

Anyway, I was wrong. After watching this show and listening to players - former 49ers and players from other teams - talk about it - I have humbly changed my opinion.

It was a great catch.

I learned a lot about Dwight Clark as a human being. He was a cool dude.

In March of 2017 he announced he had been diagnosed with ALS. Subsequently, when asked if he would change anything about his life, given the diagnosis, he said no. He loved his life, his football career, and if his life was going to be shortened, so be it.

This kind of thing kind of stuns me. Other football players have said the same thing. But Ricky Gervais recently put it into perspective for me.

He was being interviewed by Alec Baldwin who asked (I am paraphrasing) do you feel you need to drink a little less wine, slow down a little, to increase your odds of longevity? Gervais said something like "people tell you to take better care of yourself and you might live ten years longer. What they don't tell you is those are the ten worst years of your life."

Fucking hilarious. And true. And applicable.

Dwight Clark died on June 4, 2018 from ALS. He was 61 years old. I did not see this coming, I did not know he died. I was so wrapped up in the show that I shed a few tears when they got to his death.

And in a related story......................

I just read a book titled "Bangkok Babylon", written by Jerry Hopkins. Cool book about unique characters, ex-pats all, who moved from their home country (mostly the U.S.) to Thailand because it was wild and exciting and free spirited. Very cool book which could be the subject of another post.

Jerry Hopkins was a cool dude. In 1980 he wrote "No One Here Gets Out Alive", a biography of Jim Morrison. A book that I have read, of course, and still own. He went on to write a lot of music related biographies.

I did not know a lot about him so, after reading "Bangkok Babylon", I decided to do some research.

He did a lot of things. He wrote 37 books, 1,000 magazine articles, he wrote for The Village Voice, Rolling Stone, he opened the first head shop in LA, MC'ed love-ins and on and on and on.

He lived in California, moved to Hawaii and finally settled in Bangkok in 1993, where he stayed. Like all of the ex-pats in his book he was constantly reinventing himself.

I also learned that he died on June 3, 2018. He was 82 years old.

This got to me. No tears, but a definitely heavy, sinking feeling. I felt like I just got to know him and then I find out he died 6 months ago.

Just like Dwight Clark.

What the fuck.

Death is a motherfucker, baby. Nobody wants it around. I feel death brushing right up against me, whispering in my ear. Whether it's in two weeks or twenty years, it is making its presence known.

I gotta do something. Football is out so I might as well move to Bangkok.