This morning I received a text message from a friend and colleague who is good friends with Rod Simons, longtime Minneapolis media member, and his family.
The text message from this person stated, much to my shock and horror, that she heard Rod passed away this morning.
I immediately went to Twitter to try and piece together anything I could, but nothing was there. Facebook is always second in the news world these days, but I thought it best to give it a shot anyway.
I took a look at Rod's wall, and there sat a single post from a few minutes earlier stating the same.
But there was no way.
If I was going to believe that the youthful, positive, exuberant gentlemen I knew was no longer with us, I needed more.
I texted a friend I knew to be a colleague of Rod's at a local radio station to fact-check. He hadn't heard anything either, simply texting back "What?!".
So I sat there, trying to wrap my head around why someone would post on Facebook Rod was no longer with us if he was alive, and why, at nearly the same time, my friend would text me the same.
I chalked it up to a bad source of information that was feeding it around the community. There was a miscommunication from one single person that was told to a few people, one that just happened to know me, and another that just so happened to enjoy jumping the gun on social media.
I even texted my original source back "I don't think this is true", even though I knew she was much closer with the Simons family than myself.
Rod. Wasn't. Dead.
But reading my own actions as I write them now, it's obvious I was simply in denial.
The writing was on Rod's Facebook wall, in my phone, and, as if anyone in their right mind would need more proof, in a somber confirmation text back from Rod's colleague at their station.
Rod Simons, found unresponsive in his hotel room early Monday morning while on a trip to Florida to cover Minnesota Twins Spring Training, gone at the age of 56.
Damn.
The news ended up breaking publicly about five or so hours later, and I quickly realized Rod had an effect on people.
Facebook posts, tweets, news stories, all over the web Rod was being remembered:
There are hundreds and hundreds more on top of the few that I've shared here, but that's what made Rod so special. I didn't work alongside him for years like Artie and Joe, I didn't have pictures with his family, and I wouldn't even call him a "wonderful" friend like Sean did.
Rod and I were acquaintances, colleagues, professional associates. Heck, I only really met the guy MAYBE five times. He had me on his show, the Emmy Award-winning GameOn! TV, a couple of times, we ran into each other at a Vikings game in the press box once, and I suppose we could've been in a couple of rooms together at events and said hello.
MAYBE five.
But even with that being the case, I'm sitting here writing about my experience with Rod because what we all STRIVE to be every day, he WAS every day.
Instead of taking the easy road of selfishness and negativity, Rod gave. He gave energy, gave encouragement, gave opportunity.
On his show, there used to be a segment called the "MIAC Minute" he would fill every week. Doing all the work I had with the conference, the league office of Dan Mckane and Matt Higgins pitched Rod to have me on the show. I was 23-years-old, had never done television, and was clueless.
Rod didn't care.
He had me on, treated me like a professional, and complimented me up and down both on the air and off. You'll actually find a few of those appearances on the TV tab of this website, where samples of the little I've done in television are housed. Without those clips, the area would be pathetic and empty, and without the host's support and confidence, my belief in my media future may have been the same.
I've never forgotten that.
To live life like Rod did is truly special, as he left an imprint on those he may have crossed paths with just a few times, something this blog should be a testament to.
To have it taken away at just 56 years is a crime, one that leaves many with the same emptiness portions of this website would have without Rod's generous and welcoming disposition.
He never knew his impact on me, but I hope it only grows as the years march on.
Goodbye Rod, and thank you for your passion, positivity, and the feeling that I belonged in your world as a 23-year-old novice inside a seasoned veterans arena.