You've got to love the Ticket. I mean, you simply have no choice.
Just when you're about to smash your Sausage McMuffin with Egg into the car radio when Gordon (contrary to my request here) wrongfully accuses George of some absurd prejudice, or Dan McDowell interrupts someone unfunnily, or the AM and FM signals both pretty much vanish in the heart of Dallas, you hear something that reminds you of why you can't really listen to any other station in any other format, much less any other sports-talk station.
A couple of mornings ago, both Junior and George offered some extremely kind and generous thoughts on the subject of Tom Hicks. I've only lived in Dallas during a time when Hicks was the least popular of the major sports owners in the area, so it was quite arresting to hear from Craig and George what almost sounded like a nostalgic fondness about the man.
It was good to hear. It was gracious. And you what else it was? – it was manful. It was the way guys react to guys who are having a hard time, no matter what their past failings. It was a way that men say goodbye. It gave me a good feeling about the Musers, and about the Ticket – and about Tom Hicks, a guy whose qualities I might not otherwise have heard anything about.