Al Michaels: “You Can’t Make This Up” (2014)
Cosell was standing on the corner — toupee on his head, cigar dangling from his mouth, ridiculous yellow blazer making him impossible not to notice. Suddenly the fight stopped. The kids looked at him dumbfounded, their eyes and mouths wide open.
Then Cosell spoke: “Now listen. It’s quite apparent to this trained observer that the young southpaw does not have a jab requisite for the continuation of this fray. Furthermore, his opponent is a man of inferior and diminishing skills. This confrontation is halted posthaste!”
Total silence followed. Then one kid said, “Howard Cosell? Howard Cosell!” An instant later they were all dancing around him as if he were a maypole. From somewhere a pen was produced, and Cosell signed autographs and patted the kids on their heads.
Reality officially had been suspended.
Cosell then reentered the limo and leaned back against the headrest in total satisfaction. Our driver Peggy was still in a state between shock and disbelief. I was just happy to be alive.
Peggy drove off, and about a block down the street she said, “Mr. Cosell, excuse me, but I have to tell you something. I have been driving for 25 years. I thought I had seen everything! I have never seen anything like that.”
Cosell took a long drag on his cigar. He looked straight ahead. “Pegaroo,” he said, “just remember one thing. I know who I am.”
So, Let’s toast Harry Caray and Howard Cosell, and let’s let Joe Buck drink in peace.