They were the men that woulda, shoulda, coulda been king, in their own way, limited but still boundless.
When is a touchdown more than just another six-point into seven score?
When it propels a fullback named Franco into the annals of football history. He grabbed at knee-height a wayward fourth-down throw after a ricochet of far more than one yard-marker’s length, the longest we have seen, then snaked his way into the end zone to win an early Super Bowl for the Pittsburg Steelers. But although he beat the football odds hands down, he could not cheat death, as was seen earlier this year.
And the name Franco just keeps on popping up since then. (More of that below, in the next sentence and beyond).
It happened that the following day after his death, I saw a video of a singer, not sure if its rap or salsa, who is a third piece of the lookalike puzzle. And three more are listed below the pullout that follows.
— So now we’ll also list this. The Wild Badger in New Richmond is again adding to its already well-stocked lineup of deejays, with the mainstays being Kris Holiday and DJ Kurt. But now in one of his relatively new engagements at The Badger, DJ Winn is onboard upfront on Saturday. And after seven days and nights follow, its the band Theory, which despite the theme of this overall post does not necessarily invoke the rockers Theory Of A Dead Man.
Two blocks north, on Thursday at the Friday Memorial Library, its the first of the summer’s Let’s Get Trivical, with the questions asked being much more specific than usual and featuring a summer recreation vibe with a “beach” theme. On July 20 the topic will be “hydration.” And there regularly are many of the tools for yard games available for checkout. So go for the trivia and stay for the Jarts and more. —
It could be said that the man behind the “Immaculate Reception” is larger than life. The same has been said of a man who would, suddenly, foretell to the world and then go out there and sell the concept, to the benefit of many people, as he hawked and helped so many with his uncanny abilities as yes, a psychic. Though not models, they share a similar distinct look that demands attention, and begs for ongoing requests, formal and informal and journalistic, for re-visitation. Just like their defining and sometimes seeming supernatural ability. And they pass muster, even if they are based on mostly a single “pass.”
Franco H. was black and Joe M. dark-skinned Greek, with also the same hairstyle in an uncanny number of fronts, build and beard. Franco H lived for quite a few years longer, chalk it up to an athlete’s training regime. They have the same length of legacy, especially among those who loved them. Even if only a lowkey sports fan, you had to watch that infamous catch and even longer run every once in a while. Turn on again, and tune the replay back in.
(And Joe M has other lookalikes, from diverse walks of life. A guy in a Goodfellas-type hospital bed get-shot scenario. The man in a commercial wrapped in only a towel, running down the street to chase down a delivery truck, and I think it was of a fave pizza. I saw this on TV again yesterday, and was reminded of Joe M, as in his wide girth, making his presence even more felt. And even the expressive with hands — like Franco’s catch — lead singer in a band called Metaklapa, a choir of five Croatian men applying their traditional style of a-cappella folk music to heavy metal cover songs.)
As I prepared this post over time, I kept on stumbling across the name Franco in various artistic endeavors, from movies to music. Putting a perpetually poignant face on my post.
But back to that infamous TD, which took far less then a TO to play out, but still long for a pass play. Even after what already seemed a miracle, there was that nagging doubt of whether he would actually get to the goal-line. Or get tripped up at the one-yard-line as time expired. Similar questioning of the eventual outcome for Joe M although he never really had a fear — but became so immersed in other peoples’ lives that he expressed a yearning to simply go meet his maker — it was a matter of when not if. The definitively defining day in the sun, or son, for him that set him well upon his course, and riding on his horse, was more like 19 minutes of the total 20 he used, in their exactness of meaning, as he defined for me my life, and so uncannily and accurately what was to come. Another turn of 180. Both set and/or viewed at a sports bar, with some circumstances we can all relate to, but still in other ways completely their own thing.
Simply put, he read the handwriting on the wall and palm after being pulled away from a game of pool, of a situation that had not been seen before, in that initial conversation of less than a half-hour, then predicted with stunning ability what would happen in that realm, for me and many others, for many years afterward. Joe M was a longtime psychic who said he’d never seen anything like my circumstances. He got wrapped up in this revelation and it was his bittersweet joy and his demise. He did not see 50, dying of what was officially termed a heart attack, but brought about by terrible stress, essentially giving his live for his newfound cause.
I have been vague, but this is The Never-Ending Story with many dozens of chapters to cover, so for another post. Suffice it to say, he stumbled into the much-needed helping along of a very tight relationship that had been sabotaged, and the emotional pain trickled down into a broad network of like-minded people that was represented in what looks like an old-school computer flow chart, and worked to eventually right the ship through a very long and arduous process that sucked him in, via a scenario that could change the conversation involving some of the basic tenets of psychology.
I was one of those he helped “save.” We assume its been — and coming up again through death and eulogy — the same necessary though vicarious result for his lookalike. Although not someone I would spend my every minute with, let it now be known Joe M, you are my Blood Brother.
Joe W thus says a true goodbye to Joe M. Rest In Psychic-ness, as best you can.