The Giants were off that day. It was a Thursday, and they were in
town for a three-game set with Atlanta starting Friday. Will Clark was nowhere to be found by four fifteen, but he finally showed up at around five o’clock. He had this really weird look on his face. I mean, not zany or quirky or anything, just plain weird, like he was on a weird drug of some sort; and this would not have shocked me because it seemed like everybody I had met in San Jose was on some sort of drug.
I remember being fairly alarmed at the guy’s actions when I saw him for the first time . . . he just put a knot in my stomach, just very weird. At this point, I had five or six members of the air staff in the room. Laurie Roberts who just loved the Giants, Ass Kisser, Carmine, Miss Piggy, and Lamont, the morning guy who had replaced Perry Stone.
“Hey, sorry I’m late, man. I got so lost!” he almost was yelling,
“No problem . . . we’re live in forty-five seconds. Here are your
-Chapter 21 Living on The Fault Line
“There’s Nothing Louder Than Dead Air”