T. Boone Pickens (courtesy of T. Boone Pickens)

Today, T. Boone Pickens passed away at age 91. Eight years ago I had the privilege of shadowing him. Through that process, we became friends. He graciously hosted my family at his Texas ranch on numerous occasions. In his memory, I’m sharing here a short piece I wrote about my experience with him.

I spent the weekend with T. Boone Pickens, one of the wealthiest men in America. He made his fortune in oil and gas. Nobody knows energy like Boone.

But the college football world knows him as the booster who made the largest single gift to an NCAA athletic program in American history – $165 million to Oklahoma State back in 2005. The money built the finest facilities in the country and helped propel Oklahoma State to one of the best teams in the country last year.

In the preface to his opus “The Best and the Brightest” (the definitive account of America’s involvement in Vietnam), journalist David Halberstam shared the secret to writing a bestseller: “A book that burns in your belly — something that has to be written before you can go on to anything else.”

I love writing. I do it every day. And I never know where the stories may end up. Often, I go on a journey with the people I write about. The picture at the top of this post was taken while I was interviewing New England Patriots linebacker Kyle Van Noy back when he was a junior at Brigham Young University. I love this picture (shot by the ridiculously talented Deanne Fitzmaurice) because it speaks to innocence and youth and promise and the future. Who knew that one day Kyle would end up playing in three consecutive Super Bowls for the Patriots! That’s what I mean about not knowing where a story might end up. Congratulations, KVN!

In the photograph at the top of this blog, I’m talking to one of my best friends, Vic Gaska. The picture was taken four summers ago at a softball game. Earlier this week, on Wednesday, Vic left work early, telling co-workers he didn’t feel well. He went home, he said, to “sleep it off.” After a nap, Vic called his best friend Mike to tell him he had decided not to go with him to the Celtics game that night. Mike was concerned – Vic never missed a game. But Vic insisted he was fine – just need some rest. A couple hours later, Vic’s wife found him sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, motionless. Heart attack. Vic was 53.