Uncle Killer

Let me start out by apologizing for my brevity.  Be assured that I am not short on emotion from the passing of Tom Kowlaski, but, rather, I am uncomfortable and inexperienced writing about topics so personal and devastating.

The passing of Kowlaski hit me, and the entire Lions community, like we had been collectively thrown to the ground by Ndamukong Suh.  Any devoted fan will not only speak of his astute contributions to the Detroit Lions community, but to his endearing personality that bled through his twitter accounts, weekly chats and "email answers" columns.

I interacted with Kowalski personally, only once.  Here's what happened:

Me, being the immature, smart-ass that I am, sarcastically shot this question to Killer not wanting, nor expecting an answer.  But, "Killer" never seemed to pass on the opportunity to give as good as he gets.  He made a living dealing with idiots like me, and never showed signs of frustration or anger.  When interacting with fans, it always seemed like he talked to us as a peer, not as a superior.  We were his drinking buddies, not his readers.  He may have thrown around the word "idiot" now and then, but it always came across the way a father would jokingly chastise his son.

Kowalski's nickname "Killer" always seemed ironic to me, though he would never accept that.  His big stature was in contrast to what seemed like an infinitely-positive demeanor.  The nickname he earned as a radio host always seemed much more fitting: Uncle.

When I'm having a tough day or just want to get away, I usually turn to the Lions to bury my worries.  Today, I can't do that.  We'll all miss you, Uncle Killer.  You're the best.