I Will Miss Lacy Banks

I’m going to be 31 in about a week so I suppose marketers would still label me a millennial, but I don’t use text message as a replacement for basic conversation over my cell phone and I still remember playing Oregon Trail and Number Munchers on a computer the size of a dish washer.

So I suppose I’m still nostalgic about the era that was newspaper and its people that populated that world. I don’t know Lacy personally and a lot of younger fans seemingly have little interest in him because he doesn’t equate to victories, but part of why I am attracted to this sport is the people that cover and analyze it.

I miss watching Norm Van Lier rip into Michael Jordan from my couch with my father and remember fondly listening to Johnny Red Kerr play the gentle grandfather “Ohhhhhh! Scottie…incredible!”

The Chicago Bears are for everyone in Chicago; the Bulls made a cameo as Jordan’s dynasty ran full throttle. It will always be that way. And it’s fair to assume I won’t see six more Bulls championships again (though I do expect Derrick Rose to get one before it’s over).

My parents insisted that I read the paper and that usually meant both the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times. I was probably the sport dork in fourth grade and probably knew more about Aldermen Mel or Burke than any 9-year-old should.

Along the way, you look forward to the daily reports by those names—Banks, Sam Smith, Bernie Lincicome and Rick Telander.

We’re in a new era now. Those names don’t mean what they once did. But they amount to good memories. 

And at least I can be thankful for that.

Contact Mike Mitchell at michaelkennethmitchell@gmail.com.