Goodbye. I wish we had met.

I woke this morning to a news report to let me know you had died. I didn't want to believe it, but I knew it was true. The radio doesn't lie at 5:25 in the morning.

I listened to the reports as I sat on the couch with my Bible and the newspaper. I cried. A lot. I couldn't help it--and didn't even try to hide it. You see, you meant so much to me.

You kept me company every spring and summer (and into early fall) from July, 1969 until this past year. It didn't really matter what you were talking about, or the outcome of the game--as long as I heard your voice, somehow I felt like things were as they should be. When you spoke, I knew you were talking just to me. You told me that I was your friend night after night.

The games will still be played, I will still listen, but it won't be the same.

Goodbye, Joe. I wish we had met in person.

I hope we can someday.

(Joe Nuxhall died late Thursday night, November 15, 2007. He was 79.)