We were on a moonlit beach and, uh, well never mind. So I angrily picked up the receiver.
"Hellooo, kid," cackled the familiar voice. "How are things in Tahiti? Hope none of them atom bombs got ya. Bet they screwed up the fishing, though! Haw-haw."
Hello, Uncle Al. I'm in Hawaii, not Tahiti, and it's 4 in the morning here.
"I knew you were in one of them island countries in the middle of the Atlantic. But you must have been conked with a coconut, kid. My Michael Jordan watch says 9 a.m. here in Chicago. I got up early to watch the Bulls victory party at Grant Park."
There is a five-hour time difference, Al. But that's OK. How did you like the NBA finals?
"Ya mean they're over? I thought there were a few more games left, but they were letting the Bulls have their big bash ahead of time. Ya know, give the cops a chance to lock up the looters early."
Dennis Rodman sure played well in the last game, Al.
"I like him, kid. I even read his book. Well, actually I skipped right to the chapter about him and Madonna. But I'll get around to reading the rest after I read that part a few more times. And I even bought a Rodman wig and came out of the shower with it on. Your aunt passed out cold on the hallway floor. And when she woke up, she hit me over the head with a lamp. It put a big crease in the wig, so I gave it to the neighbor's dog to play with."
You're quite a character, Al. Have you been watching any baseball?
"Nah. Only when they talk about the Reds owner, Marge Shots. She kind of looks like your aunt on a bad hair day, kid. Haw-haw."
You better be careful, Al, or you'll get hit with the lamp again.
"Hey, kid, what about that guy Albert Bells. What a ding-a-ling, huh? Get it?"
Yes, Al, I get it. He's a good player, but he sure has a bad attitude.
"If I was the White Sox manager, kid, I would have a pitcher bounce one off his noggin the first time up. Then let him charge the mound and get suspended. The Sox could pick up a few games in the standings that way."
But that's not very sportsmanlike, Al.
"Kid, you've been outta Chicago too long. Being unsportsmanlike here is shoving someone in front of an El train instead of a bus."
Yes, Al, I remember that it's a tough place. So what are you going to watch now that the NBA is over?
"Well, the Sox are due to start losing and it gets old watching the Cubs play like the neighborhood Little Leaguers. And the Bears are still a couple of months away."
What about Wimbledon, Al? That starts next week and lasts for two weeks.
"Are you kidding, kid? The way they whisper and tell the crowd to shaddup over there in Scotland. You have to hit a Randy Johnson fastball or make a big free throw with thousands of fans screaming, but those sissies have to have silence to hit a fuzzy little ball over a net."
Wimbledon is in England, Al, and it's one of the most prestigious sporting events in the world.
"Hey, kid, I'd rather watch the old couples do the polka at the VFW hall on Friday night. Or check out the guys arm-wrestling down at Fat Freddie's tavern on the corner."
Well, how would you liven up Wimbledon, Al?
"That's easy, kid. Send Rodman over there to play. Those guys with the bagpipes would be jealous of the skirts Dennis would wear. Plus, I'd rather see Madonna sitting in the stands eating strawberries than Brooks Shields or Prince Diane. But I gotta run, kid. Your aunt will be home from work any minute now and I haven't hid the lamp yet. Maybe I can get the dog with the Rodman wig to bury it in the yard."