Snatching Sam’s Rug

Dear Readers:

Doctor Ink experienced a recent brush with celebrity, and almost became a newsmaker in the process. The event was a black tie awards dinner sponsored by the National Press Foundation in Washington, D.C.

More than 1,000 members of the news media hoity-toity and just a few members of the media hoi polloi gathered to honor the likes of ABC’s Cokie Roberts, the late Bob McGruder, and Howell Raines of The New York Times.

It was Doc’s job to introduce the great Gene Patterson, who received a lifetime achievement award. Doc’s rousing intro earned Gene the only standing “O” of the evening.

Dr. Ink, in spite of his status as a news seer, does not much like the cocktail-swilling butt-kissing set. He’s much more a pizza, beer, and belly bump kind of guy.

Which is why it was so difficult to resist a once-in-a-lifetime temptation.

Doc looked up from his place on the dias, and there below him, not two feet from his hand, was the head of Sam Donaldson.

There’s a better way to say it. It was not the head of the news titan that loomed, but his hair. Bought, paid for, and tight as a nun’s wimple.

Suddenly Doc was in a time warp. Before his eyes flashed that brilliant moment, years ago, when a mischievous Muhammad Ali threatened to snatch that nasty right off the head of Howard Cosell. “But what if it’s not a toupé?” said the angel on Doc’s shoulder. Then the devil raised the counterpoint: “Go get it, cuz. Let’s let some of the air out of that balloon.”

Just as Doc’s hand twitched like a gunfighter’s, Donaldson stepped back. Doc’s big moment had passed, but his “what if” will live forever.

[ Should Doc have snatched Sam’s rug? ]