Thirty-two years ago today, I had what I refer to as my "Bambi's mom moment": the sudden death of my childhood hero. And although I probably couldn't tell you what I was doing, thinking a fortnight ago without consulting my notebook, I oh-so clearly remember and recall August 2nd, 1979. I was playing wiffleball with my friend Charlie Hoock in his front yard when his neighbor came over with some news. We only played with Charlie Trimble, who was a year or so younger than us, if we needed a fourth for a game of 2 on 2. But on that fated day me and Charlie didn't need the younger Charlie -- and we sure as heck didn't need his news: Trimble informed us that the Yankee Captain and catcher -- Thurman Munson -- had died in a plane crash.

We refused to believe. What would the gruff Yankee star be doing flying in a plane to Ohio on his day off we jested. The truth was that Thurman had purchased the Cessna and was learning to fly it to be able to go home more often during the season to spend time with his wife and kids. This was unheard of in 1970's MLB.

But that night I was scheduled to stay for dinner at Charlie's house. We begged his parents to let us put the news on the TV during dinner. After they said grace (and I sat there awkwardly not knowing what the heck I was doing but silently praying my own prayer for Mr. Munson) the television came on and the news of the plane crash was heard. I can still see us at the kitchen table, looking back to the TV in the living room as I heard that my hero was dead.

Later I would learn that Munson was practicing take-offs and landings when he crashed. Apparently his last words - his dying thoughts - were to ask his companions if they were okay. They were, but Thurman was not: dead far before his time and sadly, a lesson I learned today 32 years back and I continue to learn it again and again. And yes, I did name my very beloved 2 year old cat Thurman. It started as a dark joke to me; I would name him Thurman so that I would never forget that he is going to die, but, really, aren't we all?

And I should have known better than to name a cat Thurman and then ask him - expect him - to get  on an airplane. That was such a horrid experience for both of us that I do hope that I never have to make that request of him again, and, if I do he will get doped to the gills like a feline Mr. T!

RIP Thurman Munson: a great baseball player and an even better man...

***

This week is the 30th birthday of eMpTv and I, for one, don't think we should be celebrating that birth. I blame the music video channel for the erosion of attention spans, for hair-bands, boy-bands and lousy pop divas. Although 120' and "The Young Ones" (and okay, I will admit that I watched the entire Monkees marathon) MTV turned us into little lab rats, waiting impatiently for the next video, hoping that one, or maybe the next one would be cool. But just A-ha over and over and over again. It was all downhill after exploding onscreen with the Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star." MTV did not invent the music video but seem like they think they did, like Al Gore and the internet.

But really -- the true crime against humanity perpertrated by MTV was and remains "reality TV." Yes, there had been the PBS documentary on the Loud family and television historians can point back to that well-done show as the beginning of reality TV, but it  was the music video channel's foray into programming that did us all in-- "The Real World" ruined television and it may never recover. It was mostly cheapness that has lead us down this perturbing path and I don't know if we will ever recover. So frack you eMpTV! J'accuse! J'accuse!

There!

Brian