I don’t usually read the Sports Section of my newspaper, the Chicago Sun-Times (yes, I still like to get my news in print!). But, the other day I turned the page and found this account of a sports writer running into Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge. Of course, her husband, the dashing Prince William, was there as well. But the ever chic and elegant Kate definitely stole the show!
(By the way, I tried to find a link to the article on the Sun-Times website, but couldn’t. This will have to do.)
London—So here I am just browsing in the athletes’ village—the part where regular media humans can go, although hardly any are here—looking at athletes large and small. Suddenly, a commotion as a group of people comes marching my way.
Young women start to swoon and shop workers, sweat-suited jocks, coaches and even bobbies begin to chase the group. Me, I’m standing there, letting it come to papa.
Boom! Kate the Duchess of Cambridge is near, asking me if I’ll stop for a spot of champagne and a roll with the royal yorkies, or whatever the queen’s little dogs are called.
Ok, not really.
Prince William was ahead of her, wearing a red baseball cap. He’s reasonably tall. In shape. And there were some mean-looking larger dudes in dark suits, to boot.
The Duchess—for you People magazine readers—is very tall and very slender. High cheekbones, well-appointed makeup, long brown hair, reeks of money and, uh, royalty.
Next, I’ll give you Pippa. Or maybe Scottie Pippen.
Our encounter was brief, yes. But how long does true affection take to become fruit, ripen, fall from the tree and splatter like a melon dropped from a dorm? Swift!
I felt it. She certainly did. But as in a fairy tale, while I was hunting for nutrients to put some meat on her bones, the poor thing vanished. Gone from my life.
Ah me, I bleed! I swoon!
-Rick Telander, Wednesday, August 1, 2012, Chicago Sun-Times