I was just reading the Star Tribune this morning, and I noticed a column and noticed that Sid Hartman’s page three article was about how he appreciated all his friends as he came into his career. I decided to take a quick peek at it (I don’t think anyone reads his columns with much interest expecting to find anything of substance any more) and saw that he was writing this brief memoir because he just celebrated his 90th birthday.
Holy crap.
The thing about Sid is that he keeps popping up on radio and TV, and for my entire life, he has always been the token mumbling nonsensical old guy. He used to be a bit more fiery, but only in a cranky grandpa way. For people like our parents, Sid was the out of touch sportswriter who was too war weary to have fun with sports anymore.
Well, now Sid is 90 and still going strong, and certainly old enough to make our parents feel young to this date. If anything, I think that proves that he loves sports and loves writing about them. Here’s hoping I can still be that passionate about something in 63 years.
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