East Oregonian
The thing I’ll remember most about my first football game in Pendleton’s Round-Up isn’t likely to be the Buckaroos 51-3 blowout victory. Or Connor Johnson’s three passing touchdowns. Or the rain that turned half the field into slop.
The thing I’ll remember most will be the rescue I received from a guy who looked remarkably like pitching great Randy Johnson, a delightful encounter, even if it cost me $40.
The game was nearing the end of its half time homecoming bonanza and I was fumbling in my pocket for one of the two pens I bring with me on every reporting assignment. I wanted to make a note about Pendleton’s goal line stand to end the half. I found both pens — but not my keys.
We’ll flash forward to midnight where a disheveled me is glaring at the keys dangling in the ignition of my vehicle, lonely in an empty Albertson’s lot. My article for the paper finished, I’d been ferried back to the car by sports editor Matt Entrup — not the best start to our working relationship — so I could wait for a tow company. From across the railroad tracks comes my buddy “Randy,” riding in on his white stallion of a tow truck.