The Last of the Fedora Wearing Reporters

Mike Celizic died this week.
I could use all the euphemisms that are painfully PC today, but Mike wasn't terribly PC. And the fact remains, there will be no more Friday nights at a bar, both of us telling boring stories of the glory days of being a reporter when what was important was getting the story and getting it right, not getting it posted on a Web site.
Mike was a fine reporter, masterful writer and one of the best drinking buddies I ever had. That's saying something for a reporter.
He also always wore a hat. In winter, a fedora like the old guys with press cards in the band. In summer, a perfect Panama. Gals he was drinking with would vie for the opportunity to wear the hat for a while at the bar.
One year, at the New York Press Association in Saratoga Srpings, they had a casino night. Mike understood craps, which is sort of like understanding nuclear physics as far as I'm concerned. I told him I always wanted to be the girl who blew on a guy's dice, so he let me. He started out with $5,000 in play money and ended with $12,000. If only it had been real. I don't know if I'll ever by the good luck girl again.
The unfariness of losing Mike at 62-years-old stings. Who would have thought the rookie Statehouse reporter would have left us before his mentor?
When we weren't swapping war stories over endless rounds of Jack and Ginger (always my favorite couple) or glasses of beer, Mike and I discussed deeper subjects. Talk would drift around to matters theological. Mike was convinced this is all there is. I kinda figure he and God are discussing that right about now.
Basically a sportswriter, Mike covered several Olympic Games, including Beijing '08, where he discovered the miracle of Chinese bespoke tailoring.
I would enjoy bugging him about the fairness of sports that are size dependent, mostly basketball, which I loathe. He would actually agree there is something unsportsmanlike about the need for excessive size.
Mike would take the best photos of fireworks. What skill and patience that requires. I imagine from now on, whenever I see fireworks, I'll think of Mike. I imagine many things with send me thoughts of Mike.