I forget when...

By Harvey McGuffin
I remember when ...

I have forgotten more in my life than you could possibly remember. I have empirical proof.

In my heyday, people knew and feared Harvey McGuffin. I've accomplished many things, conquered many foreign lands, been with many women and enjoyed my share of good times. There's a lot of exciting memories in this noggin. Some of them have become foggy with time -- like my late-70's romp at Studio 54, my brief boxing career, those three steamy nights I'm pretty sure I spent with Madonna, and pretty much all of last week.

Kelvin Sampson is pretty much done for, all because he forgot he made phone calls to a recruit and felt compelled to make them again. And again. This stuff happens when you get old, people. You forget you had conversations, made phone calls, took your medication or remembered to turn off the stove. That's why my family full of Judases put me in here in the first place -- I left the damn stove on and blew up a local restaurant. I'm not sure why I was in there at 1 a.m., but it's still no reason to commit your patriarch to live with the babbling idiots in a retirement home.

Misremembering happens all the time in sports. If it can happen to Andy Pettitte (drugs) or Sammy Sosa (English), two of sports' greatest assets, then it can happen to anyone. Misrememberization.

What was I talking about? Kelvin Sampson? Is he related to that tall guy from Virginia, Calvin? Of course they are. They're twins. Stupid parents and their insistence on naming twins with cute matching names.