“After reading several of your things, and I’ve been reading them for several years here, I think you oughta move out of town at the first chance you get. And stay out of town. Maybe go back to, I don’t know, are you from Nebraska somewhere? Write about the corn fields over in Iowa or something. I think you’d be better at that because I don’t like what you’re writing. … I’m unhappy with your insinuations. I’ll start a drive if you need money to get out of town. So just let me know.”

- guy who gave only his last name

At least you know where he stands. On my neck. You can’t help but appreciate that level of honesty. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I get these kind of emails and phone calls now and then. It’s part of the sports columnist gig, and believe me, it’s well worth the trade-off. I had irked some Fresno State fans and their baseball coach with a column Sunday, which I honestly didn’t think was anything to get that upset about, but I’m not going to tell anyone what to think. But this reader started his message by introducing himself as an “ex-fan of Fresno State” and saying he didn’t even like the coach in question, and then spoke the previous quote. Huh?

I was completely thrown off. I wasn’t necessarily expecting him to agree with everything I’d said, but I was NOWHERE NEAR ready for him to start a fundraising drive to move me two time zones away. And he sounded sincere. A lot of people make crazy threats and exaggerated proclamations in anger, or just to make a point, but I honestly think if I somehow found that guy, he’d have already raised a couple hundred bucks.

Here’s something else: I’m not from Nebraska, I’m from Kansas. Doesn’t matter. I mean, it does matter, in the sense that Nebraska football is a plague sent from somewhere colder than Antarctica, but not important in the sense that I can see how someone from California would mix up Kansas and Nebraska. It’s all one big wind storm. But if I did indeed move to Nebraska, why would I need to go to Iowa to write about corn fields? It’s the HUSKER State! If I was at Keira Knightley’s house would I go next door to write about a skinny woman? Perhaps it’s a reference to the Field of Dreams*. Kansas has a lot of corn and trailer parks, too. Don’t sell us short.

*I’ve been to the Field of Dreams, the movie set from the Kevin Costner movie, and it was my goal to play catch and accidentally break a window. Not that I’m a destructive person, but breaking windows is just one of those great childhood memories I have of baseball. Accidentally. Did I mention accidentally? It seems like no matter who I was playing catch with growing up, I was always standing in front of a massive plate-glass window and my glove had a big hole in it. Anyway, I didn’t break any windows in Iowa. I really didn’t want to break anything, it was something I wanted to talk about ad nauseum, but when we got there, we found out that two different farmers were in a dispute over the field and it had basically been divided into two different museums. Can you imagine that? People arguing over the Field of Dreams? It’s like pushing someone out of the way to get a better view of a rainbow. It just doesn’t make sense.

OK, I realize I’ve now wasted 600 words on a voicemail that could easily have been one of my uncles pranking me, but if you’d have heard the guy’s tone, you’d understand. It’s like he really thought I would take his advice and move, as if the only thing keeping me from leaving the best job I’ve ever had was a little encouragement. Or maybe discouragement. I should go into the office on Sundays just to listen to voicemails.