My only guess is Heaven needed a Hustler. Cool Hand Luke died yesterday at the age of 83 and one of my all-time favorite actors is gone.
Paul Newman decided he'd had enough of all this nonsense and somewhere above us, St. Peter is getting hustled in a game of pool.
As I get a little bit older every year it seems like one by one my hero's fall by the wayside. Today I found out the guy who I see when I hear the name "Butch Cassiday" joined the crowd. I've been a fan since I was 8 years old and saw "Butch Cassiday and the Sundance Kid" for the first time and made it a point to see every movie I could with him in it for the next 30 years, so I figured I'd just say my piece.
The fact he was married to the same woman, Joanne Woodward, since 1958 only added to my admiration for the man. Top it off with some dink asking him about infidelity and his response of "Why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?" and you've got a life long fan.
So on a night when the Red Sox/ Yankees were rained out, it's a done deal we're the wild card, and I imagine Tito is sitting at home wondering how in God's name is he gonna get everybody an a/b once the playoffs actually start I figured I'd give a man's man his due.
God speed, Mr. Newman.
And thanks for the memories.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
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