Like the alarm clocks shouting out his catchphrases that the White Sox handed out recently, there's a limited supply of Hawk Harrelson available.
Tell you what, when it's ovah after next-season's just-announced 20-game curtain call, even detractors will miss him, dagnabbit.
A guy talks to you for hours every summer for decades, you have a relationship.
And there's only one Hawk.
I may have taught my son, now 13, how to keep score at ballgames. Hawk taught him to circle Angel Herndandez' name on the scorebook's roster of umpires and scribble a note echoing Harrelson's past criticisms of Hernandez whether he was working the game we were attending or not.