Warning, this is long as hell...if you read the previous post first (chronologically), you'll understand this one better, maybe.

It's really amazing how things are put into perspective at the blink of an eye. Today, I answered the phone to a guy saying he was from KMOX radio in St. Louis, and Joel Buchsbaum does a Sunday-night radio show there. He said, I'm sure you guys know about Joel. To which I said yes, not thinking anything. He said, well, we're hoping someone would come on our show and say a few words for the magazine. I snapped out of my funk and said, Hold on a minute...I put the guy on hold and turned to the editor-in-chief and asked, what happened to Joel? He said he didn't know, what? I got back on the phone and said, I think I misunderstood. What happened to Joel? He said, Oh, I'm sorry. You guys didn't know. We called his place today for him to do his radio show and his family said he passed away this morning. They found him dead in his apartment. I said, Oh...hold on again, would you? I told the editor-in-chief and those around me and everyone was in shock.

This guy was 48 years old, but he seemed and sounded like he was in his 60s sometimes. Most of our time here is spent mocking his writing, because he wasn't a journalist by any means -- he was a scout who could kind of write. But damn, did he know his football. We used to sit around and make fun of the scout-speak he used, both funny ("is a 360-pound dancing bear"), perverted, ("has trouble holding onto balls") and downright stupid sometimes...we'd sit around and make fun of his thick Brooklyn accent compounded by constant sniffling and general mouth and nose noises that were weird, along with a possible speech impediment type of problem or something. The guy always sounded as though he was sick in some way, and his voice would fluctuate in pitch from call to call. One day he'd sound high-pitched, the next a baritone.

I met Joel in 2001 in person at the draft in April. I was stunned by his appearance. This man, who I literally feared talking to as an intern because he seemed like the meanest son of a bitch ever (because he treats interns like garbage until they prove themselves worthy of his respect), I could probably snap in two with my bare hands. He was skeletal and had thick glasses that I thought could crush his nose at any moment or snap his ears right off. He had wisps of hair, but I don't think he was balding...just a general lack of special care over the years showed through--it was combed and clean...just wispy. I shook his hand and thought I was shaking the hand of an old, old man. But there was a grip. And that's what Joel was about, I guess. He was one of those people who, no matter how pathetic and vulnerable they looked, was so strong inside that it didn't really matter.

Joel had pissed me off on several occasions with his ridiculous demands...I've called hundreds of schools for information on players who were destined for the CFL or better. But because Joel needed the info on some running back from Minnesota-Morris (an actual assignment I had last week) for his book, I got it. I've also sent out a hundred mailings for the guy--printed out copies upon copies of his annual player printout and sent it to player personnel people for their opinions. I never will know if they ever called him and gave him their input, but it was part of my job. It pissed me off that I was doing such menial tasks for a long time.

That was until Joel proved himself to me to be a truly good person. At that draft, I started to get a headache. I leaned over to my colleague and asked if he had any aspirin or Advil. He said no, but Joel might. So I asked Joel. Joel said he didn't, but he might be able to get some if I wanted. I said sure. Joel disappeared for a while, and came back with a little paper bag. He had left the draft, gone to the corner pharmacy and bought me a bottle of Advil. I was shocked. I told him he didn't have to go to the store, and he said he needed some things anyway. Then, when I tried to give him $5 for it later, he yelled, "F***!" right in the middle of the draft, not loud enough for anyone to really hear, but loud nonetheless. "Forget it. You've done so much for me, it's the least I can do." I must say, that was probably the epitome of Joel. Well intentioned, but brash as hell.

The next time Joel proved to be a truly good person was when me and another colleague bailed him out big-time by doing a crapload of work for him to catch him up. He was putting together one of his books, and me and this guy busted our asses to do all kinds of extra work to help him get back on track. Now, normally Joel would not think twice about this extra work. But I talked to him on the phone and he thanked me profusely for about five minutes and said how great a job we had done and how much it helped him. He never really thanked anyone else as seriously as he did us. However, he at one point also thanked me for putting up with him, and said something like, at least you don't despise me like some of the other guys there. I told him that no one despised him, just that we're all, him included, under so much pressure most of the times we talk, that things come across differently than they would normally. He seemed satisfied with that, and I know that I kind of lied. But really, I think it was mostly a love-hate relationship with many of the guys here.

I will say that although I didn't know Joel on a personal level truly, I will miss him. It's a new feeling, this losing a coworker, even though that coworker lives several hundred miles away. I guess when you just get used to hearing someone's voice, particularly someone's voice that's so damn unique, it makes it hard when there won't be that voice anymore. It will be weird not to hear Joel's signature, "Do me a favah." or "Tank you." around here.

Now the question is, how does Pro Football Weekly move on as a business, losing someone responsible for 50 percent or more of our weekly material on the web and in the paper? I guess time will tell.