An Open Letter to Keith Olbermann

Mr. Olbermann,

After hearing the recent reflections of your father on your March 12 show, I couldn't help but chuckle as it seems that we share a common legacy. And as it always seems to over the years, I am inexplicably connected to you yet again.

Let me explain.

Keith Olbermann

After my graduation from high school in 1982, I was given a unique opportunity to work in the field of sports journalism. I did so for several years, writing pieces on such 'epic' events as dart tournaments and JV volleyball and getting the occasional obit when that staff writer was out. Yes, it was just as glamorous as it sounds.

But sometime in the middle of that decade I stopped being as much of a Stu Nahan fan as I did for a guy named Keith Olbermann. At one point during that time I had this grand vision for changing the way that the players for the Major League All-Star Game would be selected. I proposed that the voting be broken into three 100-vote blocks, with the fans, players and writers each getting an equal share in the process. I wrote letters to everyone I could think of that might listen and move the idea forward.

I sent letters to anyone in MLB that had an address that I could find (a much tougher thing to do back then than it is now), including all of the Los Angeles area sports anchors, managers and owners. There must have been 50 or so letters that went out and only one, you, took the time to respond.

It was clear that you had banged out the reply on some old office typewriter and personally signed it. It was clear you had taken the time to look it over, craft your reply and actually care. It was a trivial thing in your day I'm sure, but it meant a lot to me.

I use to have that letter tucked away, but I'm afraid that the years have allowed it to slip from my grasp.

When I became a sports editor later in life, a job I held for some 8-1/2 years at a couple of papers, I vowed to always write as well as my mentor Alan Hunt and to never lose the humor, common touch and passion that I saw in you. You made sports fun, the way they're suppose to be.

In later years I was ecstatic to see you on "Countdown." You never failed to deliver an accurate yet entertaining broadcast that always provided insight and clarity.

And so Wednesday night when I watched your broadcast and heard you speak of your father, you touched me once again. Your dad's heartbreak over the Yankees letting go of his favorite player reminded of a similar incident with my father, Edwin Melvin Allen, and his childhood hero, Joe Medwick.

Joe Medwick

Medwick was a standout for the St. Louis Cardinals from 1932-39, leading the Gashouse Gang to the 1934 World Series Title, becoming the National League's last Triple Crown Winner in 1937 and setting a record for consecutive seasons with 40 or more doubles (seven, 1933-39) that still stands to this day. Yet before the 1940 season, when my father was at the ripe old age of 18, the Cardinals traded Medwick to the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Much like your father, my dad never really forgave them for that.

When I was born in 1964 and started playing ball eight years later, he jumped in and coached my teams. It was through my playing and love of the game that his enjoyment of it was rekindled. And it was baseball that allowed us to have many a great moment together, either in front of the TV or in a seat at Dodger Stadium.

Jack Rothrock

Years later his childhood team would come full circle in our lives. I learned that my mother, while living in Long Beach, Calif., had run away from home as a young girl and stayed with a couple named Rothrock. The husband, Jack, had been a member of the Cardinals as well from 1934-35. I met Jack in 1976 as the result of my mother and I researching a trivia contest on the side of milk cartons.

I didn't win the contest, but I gained a great friend. And Jack, along with the likes of yourself and Alan Hunt, gave me a gift that never tarnishes, grows old or loses its value. You gave me baseball.

As I looked up some stats and dates to write this letter, I discovered that today was Jack's birthday. And so it only seems fitting that he makes one more round in my life, bringing back warm memories and recollections.

And so to you Mr. Olbermann I say thank you. Thank you for the insights, laughs and memories over the past 30 years or so. As I have had my ups and downs, you have never ceased to bring a smile to my face when it seems most appropriate.

Here's hoping I can get 30 more out of you.