Hey sport

In case you didn’t know, I’m not a sports guy. Never have been. I know what you’re thinking: “But Jeff, you have such a ripped, awesome physique I would’ve thought you’d been playing sports all your life.”

First of all, thank you for noticing. And second, no.

But for some reason, once a year, during the World Series, I become an armchair fan. Especially when it’s the Dodgers v. Yankees.

Suddenly, I’m an expert on when and when not to take a swing. Miraculously I can call the pitches better than the umpires. I’m even starting to be fluent in the players’ names.

Then again, “Mookie” is kind of hard to forget.

I don’t go as far as wearing the team jersey, but I do yell at the tv from the comfort of my reading chair.

The cruel tease of my career (laughing for using the word “career”) is that at every agency I ever worked at without exception, I was always the copywriter who got assigned the sports tie-ins for clients. It's safe to say the most research I ever did for anything was going to the glossary for whatever sport I was writing about so I could speak in the language of the realm.

I do however love movies about baseball. Major League, A League of Their Own, The Natural, Moneyball, Bull Durham, The Rookie and, of course, Field Of Dreams.

For seven games a year, if the series goes that long, I’m all in.

When it comes to this post, it's the bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. So instead of some snappy line or bad joke about covering the bases, I’ll leave you with my favorite speech ever about the sport, courtesy of the late, great James Earl Jones.

Now if I could just get the wife to bring me a Dodger dog.

Goodbye Kobe

I was never a sports guy or the sports dad. Even though I was born and raised in L.A., I've only been to a handful of Dodger games and even fewer Laker games. But sports guy or not, I couldn't help but love Kobe Bryant.

His fierce competitiveness, his contributions to the city, his appreciation of the arts, and, as a dad, his love of his daughters were all qualities that I respected and resonated with me.

The last time I saw Kobe was a couple years ago at John Williams night at the Hollywood Bowl. Williams had composed the score for an animated film called Dear Basketball, based on a poem Kobe had written. He introduced him and brought him onstage to narrate his film live. When Kobe walked out, the roar was deafening. His celebrity transcended the court. He belonged to that audience. He belonged to the city.

Pete Andress, an art director partner of mine I worked with used to say we hang by a thread. We never know when it's going to be closing time, as Kobe's family and the other families of passengers who were on that helicopter know all too well today.

I've been unable to stop myself from crying about it all afternoon, and it goes way beyond just the sadness of a public figure passing. It feels like more than that. It feels like family.

Kobe was ours. And now he belongs to the ages. Rest in peace.