GETTING CADLED
Yesterday Kev was
supposed to be in the Talksport studio doing the Jags game with Nat
Coombs and me. I got a text from him Sunday morning saying he'd been
to the emergency room with a virus, and wasn't feeling up to doing
the show, making his unnecessary apologies. This wasn't like Kev, who
was generally indefatigable, but I texted him back jokingly, as I was
just out of hospital myself. I expected to see him in a few days,
when I was going to do his new Sportsheads show with him. When I
heard the news of his death, my first thought as the shock wore off
was that it was the first time I'd ever heard from or about Kev when
the conversation didn't generate a smile.
Kevin was above all
fun. It was more than twenty years ago that we met doing End Zone,
the World League of American Football magazine show on Sky, and for
another decade he and I did WLAF/NFL Europe games together every
spring. The thing with Kev as the host was he always kept you on your
toes; one of his favourite tricks was to tell you he'd be asking you
about the Monarchs' defense when we came out of the break; then he'd
ask you about the Amsterdam offense, and chuckle off camera as you
tried to adjust. I used to call it 'getting Cadled'.
Most of you know Kev
was first off a basketball coach, and for a couple of years in the
Nineties, he and I did Euroleague basketball for a satellite channel
in the Gulf. We'd each call a weekly game, but during the final four
playoffs we worked together, with my doing play by play and Kev the
colour. I tried any number of times to Cadle him, but like I said, he
was indefatigable, and I never really succeeded: nothing was going to
put him off his game.
But my favourite
times with Kev were quieter ones, when his positive thinking could
lift me up. Especially in those years we both lived in northwest
London, and he'd give me a lift home after late finishes at Sky. We'd
be able to pick up the banter, and it was always a hoot and a half,
in just that sort of way when you and someone you like share some
common background, but also enough differences see things from
different angles. But it was even better when the talk grew more
serious. I see humour in things in a somewhat ironical way, Kev's
perspective was always more positive, and no less funny.
He was big man, with
a big personality, and he loved to share it. From the first time we
went to Scotland to do a Claymores' game, and the legion of fans from
his days coaching hoops up there crowded round, I could see there was
a special connection there. Kev was successful as a motivational
speaker, and it was easy to see why: his message was always upbeat,
and he was always on message.
I can't tell you how
shocked I am that we've lost him. The last thing I said to Nat Sunday
night was about bringing Kev back in this Sunday. I was hoping to
finally Cadle him. I won't get that chance. When we finished a
Sportsheads taping a couple of weeks ago, we went off together and
started talking about how much fun it had been, just like the old
days. Those old days are now gone. I will miss him. And so will NFL
fans, and sports fans, all round the UK. For anyone in this country
who followed American sport, Kev was a star. And to me, I am proud to
say, he was a friend.
It was a shock, especially since he was supposed to do our Talksport show that night, and I was looking forward to doing his Sportsheads programme this week. Just saying that reminds how much of our careers in this business depends on relationships: Kev brought me aboard on Showtime Sport's EuroLeague basketball (it was in 2003 and 2004, not the late Nineties as I mis-remembered) and I was able to throw some things his way: it was true that we talked about that old time feeling of working together regularly just a couple of weeks ago: you just never know what will happen.
As some of you may remember, Kev replaced me on the Sky NFL show. Sky being Sky no one ever bothered to inform me of this, but I was lucky enough to have Channel Five pick up the late night Sunday and Monday games soon after, and the rest was history. The Sky NFL producer was on holiday, and had assumed someone else would let me know; meanwhile Kev and I had lunch in Primrose Hill when he knew but I still didn't. The next time we got together (which curiously enough was by accident, and on Primrose Hill) we had a talk. Kev hadn't wanted to bring the subject up, because he felt embarrassed and, assuming Sky would have had the grace to inform me; he figured I was being polite and not bringing it up either. That we stayed friends says all that needs to be said.
The photo at the top of the page was taken just about a year ago, after the NFL game at Twickenham, when I interviewed Kev on stage to help promote his memoir, The Cadle Will Rock. In the middle is Karl Baumann, who was our producer on WLAF/NFL Europe. I'd tell the Amsterdam story now, but this isn't the time or the place.
But it makes me smile. I've got others; the Frankfurt concentration camp one is my favourites. Maybe someday. And this is the absolute truth: no sooner had I posted this than my email showed a request from Kevin to connect on Linkedin. He'd Cadled me one last time! This morning someone posted a picture of Kev and Cecil Martin carving the Thanksgiving turkey, a Sky tradition which I believe was Karl's idea. It was high sports comedy, and it got better every year. When I saw the photo I started laughing out loud. And then I cried. RIP Big Guy.
2 comments :
Lovely, Mike. Yes I love the happy, jokey, positive, family feel when I watch both of your shows. Thank you.
Thanks for posting this, my wife and I still miss his sky anchoring of Sunday night NFL. We even asked Neil (Reynolds) when we were on Regents Street last year meeting the Colts, then suddenly soon after the news of his far too early demise came We only knew him through the screen but such was his personality that it crossed the ether into our living room and our lives. Gone too soon and sorely missed. Rip Kev
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