Bob Moran

Allow me to digress from politics for a moment to write about former Tribune sportswriter Bob Moran, who died Tuesday, a difficult day for those of us who knew him. 

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Actually, I knew Moran for years longer than he knew me. When I was growing up in Tucson and thinking about a career in journalism, he appeared in The Arizona Daily Star sports pages nearly every day. The guy made sense to me and I looked forward to reading him. 

Eventually, I earned a journalism degree from the University of Arizona and moved to Las Cruces, N.M., to cover sports for the Las Cruces Sun-News. Later, I returned to Arizona to take a job covering sports for the old Scottsdale Progress, which now sort of is the Scottsdale bureau of the Tribune. One of those first Saturdays, I ended up in the press box at Sun Devil Stadium for Arizona State University’s first football game of the season. By chance, I was seated near Moran, whom I recognized, but was too intimidated to appoach, because I regarded him as journalism deity.

As the ASU players were going through warm-up drills before the game, I marveled aloud to another reporter about ASU’s bruising new starting running back, whose name I have long since forgotten. Moran heard me gushing about the player. “No, he’s not the guy. The backup is the guy,” he said. So I pointed out to Moran why he was so clearly mistaken. The starter was taller and bigger than the backup. The starter’s thighs were as thicker than tree trunks. He came from a better football city. “I mean, just look at him,” I said. “No, the backup is the guy,” Moran said. 

I was crushed. My journalism hero worship obviously had been misplaced all those years. Moran couldn’t even grasp what was so plainly obvious to me.

But I persisted. “Why do you think the backup is the guy?” I asked. Moran looked at me and replied simply, “He makes things happen.” That was it. Then I was sure. Moran was a complete idiot and I was an even bigger idiot for ever idolizing him. 

The game started, but ASU’s starting running back never found a groove. The big bruising player struggled to get yards. He never picked the right routes. His timing was off. He dropped handoffs. He couldn’t shake a tackle. Moran never said anything. He just sat a few seats down on press row taking notes. By the end of the first half, the running back had plenty of carries, but almost no yards. 

The second half started, and ASU’s coaches benched the starter and put in the undersized, hardly-filled-his-jersey backup. A few plays into the half, the backup got a nice rush, better than anything the starter did the entire first half. Moran looked over at me. I pitied Moran, the old fool. He couldn’t even tell the backup just got a lucky break. Clearly, I had arrived on the Arizona sports journalism scene just in time.

Then, perhaps it was the next play, the backup running back took the ball again. He busted through a few tackles, slipped through a few more and began sprinting 50 or 60 yards for the endzone. As he ran, Moran stood in the pressbox and shouted, “He makes things happen! He makes things hap-pen! He makes things HAP-PEN!!” 

That day marked the first and only time I ever doubted Moran. After a couple of years at the Progess, I moved to Hawaii for four years, then returned to Arizona again and eventually joined the Tribune, though by then, my sportswriting days were behind me. Yet, there was Moran. That time, I mustered the nerve to introduce myself. Over the years, I got to know him. Imagine the thrill – getting to know one of your personal heroes on a personal level. Lucky me. 

I’ve always enjoyed retelling that story about that day in the ASU press box. I especially enjoyed retelling it when Moran was within earshot, because it always embarrassed him. After a few retellings, he knew how I was going to end it, and that was the part that particularly embarrassed him. I always told people that Moran actually was describing himself that day – “He makes things happen. He makes things hap-pen! He makes things HAP-PEN!!” 

I learned a lot about journalism and life from Moran over the years. Here’s a couple: A running back’s heart matters far more than his thighs; go to lunch with a variety of people, particularly people you wouldn’t think you have a lot in common with. There’s one other important point that transcended journalism and life, which he and I discussed often, but is far too personal to discuss in this sort of a forum so shortly after his death, and perhaps ever. I’m pleased to note, though, that he and I encouraged and applauded each other’s efforts in that realm. 

I thanked Moran privately for serving as one of my personal heroes, and I’m happy to thank him again publicly now. Moran made a difference. He made things happen.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 5th, 2008 at 4:35 pm and is filed under Hard to classify, The news biz. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.