I live in south Arkansas now, so all of my news comes from Shreveport local stations. This means that I get a lot of footage of OJ Simpson racing through the airport to get to his family reunion. (Which is kind of ironic, if you remember those Hertz commercials he starred in before his, um, legal trouble.) It also means that I am constantly trying to remember the difference between Nacogdoches and Natchitoches, because now I’m in the Arklatex and have to know major cities in three states instead of one.
But before I moved here, I’d spent my entire life in central Arkansas. So when a legend like Paul Eels dies, you’ve got to let me know. Hello! Voice of the Razorbacks! “Touchdown, Arkansas!” “Oh, my!” Pretty much every significant sporting event I’ve ever watched that wasn’t the Olympics was called by Paul Eels. Remember that long ass game against Ole Miss? Paul Eels helped me through it. Remember when Jason Jennings was drafted by the NBA? Paul Eels was the one who confirmed it for me. Remember when Sidney Moncrief played a hell of a ballgame instead of selling cars? Paul Eels was the one who called those games.
So when Arkansas newscasters go to meet their Maker, be sure to let me know. I predict that they’ll announce any day now that that overbaked Ned Perme has a raging case of skin cancer. And if Tom Brannon gets bitten by a rabid pigeon in the KTHV weather garden, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings one bit. (I don’t know why, but the guy just bugs me.)
Which reminds me – is Beth Ward still alive? She’s sort of frozen in time, isn’t she? She’s like the female Dick Clark.