Let One Rip

When I heard that legendary local sportscaster Rip Rowan had died it left me melancholy. There goes another one, I thought.

Rowan was one of those old school guys who were in ample supply when I got into the TV business, before pretty faces became the norm, and street smarts meant more than a degree from Newhouse.

But as I pondered the passing of Rowan, I could not get this thought out of my head: how did he get the nickname, “Rip?”

Like a prayer answered, my question was addressed in today’s paper:

“Rowan had a mischievous streak, which included legendary on-set flatulence, according to McLoughlin. “He did it on purpose. It was murder,” he said.

Ha! Try that today and you won’t get a colorful nickname, you’ll be sent to visit HR — and likely receive a ticket to some sort of sensitivity training class.

R.I.P. Rip.

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