An Ode to Tom Davis

There was a stretch of time in the very early 1990’s when it would have taken a yet to be invented kitchen utensil to separate myself from Tom Davis. We had a common friend whose name may or may not have been Bill Borden.

 

One memory strikes clearer than all others. We were playing football on the beach. It was Tom and myself vs. Bill and Cousin Dave. First team to score wins. Sizewize, I knew we were out matched. Our only chance was speed. We stopped Bill and Cousin Dave on their first offense with incredibly spasmodic coverage. On their third and long, Tom swatted that nerfball half way to Seaside.

 

Now it was our turn.