With the sudden, untimely punch-to-the-face that was Dave Niehaus' death, I have spent a good portion of my Veterans' Day listening to highlights on the radio, watching YouTube clips and remembering the voice that was second only to my father's as the soundtrack in my childhood.  I don't cry.  Not at funerals, not at movies, not when I get hurt.  But I cried today.  By myself.  Nobody saw me.  Sure, Dave was losing it a bit at the end.  He would get really excited about a hit that would turn out to be a can-of-corn.  He wouldn't really know if a ball was high, low or outside.  Sometimes he seemed to digress about something nobody seemed to follow.  But he still "painted the picture", as I have heard a million times today.

I bring this up because I have found myself hoping, wishing, dreaming that our beloved Bob Robertson ... BobRob ... might just retire.  We have railed against he and Walden in game thread after game thread.  Some of us have even started listening to the opposing teams broadcast.  Sure, he's old.  Sure, he can't really seem to describe a play.  Sure, he can barely get a word in edgewise with Walden's "Yeehawwing", but he does, from time-to-time, "paint the picture." 

Perhaps I feel guilty.  I suppose a sudden death can do that, but whatever the cause, I want to remind everyone that BobRob is ours.  He might not be a hall of famer, but he is my Cougar football and I can't actually imagine a radio broadcast without him.