I cried when I heard about the passing of Keith Jackson, legendary sports broadcaster.

I don’t spend time thinking about Keith Jackson. I never particularly liked Keith Jackson any more or less than most broadcasters. (The basic rule is that if a broadcaster calls a game and my team wins, I like him, otherwise I am indifferent, at best.)

I assumed I could go the rest of my life without ever hearing the name, Keith Jackson, again. But when I heard he had died, it caused me to reflect on all of the good times I had with him around. Many of my childhood memories involve events where Keith Jackson was a part.

I remember spending the night at friend’s’ houses and watching college football in our pajamas, all day long. I remember loading up the car and going with my parents to watch football games when I would run around and play “two below” with the other grownup’s kids. I remember my dad bringing home 100 Krystal burgers and 12 large fries cause I had 4 or 5 friends spend the night and he knew that when we woke up,  we would watch football and eat all day. Keith Jackson was with us throughout all of this.

I never thought that I would “miss” Keith Jackson, until now. It’s funny how hard it is to see the value of someone when you just assume that they will always be there. Sometimes the things that bothered me the most are the things that I truly miss.

I guess we will never really know the impact that we have on people’s lives simply by being around. But regardless of whether we know it or not we are having an impact. We might be dead and gone before that Impact is realized but there will be an impact.

I will never see an exceptionally large, sweaty man in a helmet and shoulder pads that I don’t respectfully refer to as a “Big Ugly”. And, I cannot resist the temptation that comes over me whenever an object of any kind is accidentally dropped on the floor from involuntarily yelling out, “Fuummm-bull!”. And, I don’t think it will be easy to watch a fullback go straight up the gut and break free of the defense without unconsciously yelling, “Whoa, Nellie!”.

I will miss Keith Jackson. I will miss a lot of things when they are gone. I should probably pay more attention to what those things are while I still have them around.