Chili Dog

I'm not Mr. Sports by any means, but this is a sports story that inspires a little mention here in Stinktown. Rod Beck was found dead in his home on Saturday. Two things motivated me to write here.

The first is that he was 38. This always freaks me out. It sounds pretty young to die to begin with, but then I realize that I'm only four years younger than that and I think "shit I'm old" and also reinforces that 38 is too young to die. At least for me.

The second thing is my friend and former co-worker, Matt D. Matt is probably the only reason I paid any legitimate attention to Beck. This happened back when Beck was on the (hated) Red Sox. One night we were watching the some Yankees/Red Sox action on the work TV (watch CNN my ass!) and Beck was just being his usual fat, messy, crazy mustache-wearin' self, but that was enough for us.

Matt says to me something like, "You know what that guy's favorite food is?"

I say, "No, what?"

"Chili dogs."

"What? How do you know that?"

"I don't know. He just looks like he eats chili dogs all day long."

"You have a point. That's entirely possible."

I was sort of mulling over the idea of eating nothing buy chili dogs a little while later while still watching the game and Matt comes by again.

"You know the flavor that gum Beck is chewing?"
I look over at Matt and before I could throw out a guess ... "Chili dog."

So, ever since that day I've referred to Rod Beck as "Chili Dog" and probably always will. I hope Beck will understand that this isn't all that much of an insult coming from someone with my eating habits and won't ask God to drag me off this wacky planet in less than four years. I've got shit to do around here still.

Thanks for the memories, Chili Dog.