They were my friends.
More important, they were my mentors.
A man is fortunate if he actually can call someone, anyone, a “mentor.” I was lucky enough to have two. Their names were Ernie Salvatore and Lou Sahadi.
They were a matched set. One of Italian descent, one Lebanese. Both from the East Coast.
Yet, ironically enough, they both chose to attend Marshall University and even more stupefying both chose to study sports journalism.
The coincidences don’t end there, either.
After graduating from Marshall, both Salvatore and Sahadi became sports writers for the Huntington Herald-Dispatch. Who would have guessed that?
Salvatore put down roots in Huntington, raised a family and became an iconic sports writer, known for his hard-hitting, opinionated columns.
Meanwhile, Sahadi went another direction. He went back to his beloved New York City and became a well-known author of sports books.
For some reason, those two sports writing icons befriended a young guy, took up for him and had his back when he needed it. They treated him like a younger brother.
That’s how fortunate I was.
Ernie and Lou treated me like a kindred spirit. Perhaps it was because all three of us were so opinionated. It came naturally to us. Just like our friendship.
Was there a big age difference? Of course. But it never seemed to matter. Ernie and Lou treated me as an equal. That might be the greatest compliment of my life.
After Ernie retired he still attended Marshall football and basketball games. One day, MU’s sports information director told me the younger writers were complaining about having to sit next to Salvatore because he kept wanting to tell stories.
I took care of that problem. I told the SID to sit Ernie next to me because I adored listening to his tales. We were a perfect fit. He loved to talk and I loved to listen.
Then there was the time I told Ernie how I had interviewed for a part-time, summer job in the H-D sports department when I was in college. Then, I dropped the hammer, informing Ernie that he didn’t hire me.
Ernie instantly became aghast and mortified all at the same time.
“That might have been the biggest mistake in my career,” said Salvatore.
And then, we laughed. Me and Ernie did a lot of that.
We lost Ernie in 2009 and I still miss him.
Then, there was Lou Sahadi.
The first time we met, it was like we’d known each other forever. The magnetism between us was off the charts. I admired Lou so fervently because I couldn’t imagine writing a book, much less the number that he had written.
I looked forward to Marshall playing at Florida Atlantic because that meant getting to spend time with Lou in Boca Raton. We’d go to dinner. We’d hang out at his condo. We’d smoke cigars on his patio. And we’d talk and talk and talk.
We were each other’s biggest fan. We even stayed in touch by phone. I still have a voicemail on my cell phone from Lou. I didn’t erase it because it was the last time I heard his voice.
They buried Lou on Saturday in Greer, South Carolina.
I started crying as I wrote those words.
They were my friends. They were my mentors. They treated me as an equal even if I weren’t. I loved them dearly for that.
I always will.
