Some columns are especially hard to digest.
As one of the premier sports writers in my family, it is always my hope that reader(s) will devour my column.
Well, it was finally my turn.
I ate one of my stories.
It was not a pleasant experience. Rolaids are of little use when mushed-up newsprint is floating around in one’s not-inconsiderable stomach.
Burp.
The digestive problems began as the result of a June 21 Regina Leader-post column in which I opined that the Saskatchewan Roughriders’ Duron Carter should be playing on offence.
My words of, er, wisdom appeared at a time when Roughriders head coach and general manager Chris Jones was using Carter — one of the CFL’S elite receivers — as a cornerback.
I made the case for showcasing Carter on offence, whereupon he returned an interception for a touchdown during the first half of a June 21 road game against the Ottawa Redblacks.
Suitably contrite, I went on Twitter to remind people of my column. I proceeded to go one step further by declaring that I would eat said column.
I am a man of my word, so ... My word, it tasted terrible! As part of the vow, I assured the Twitter flock that I would eat the column during the next Rider Rumblings video podcast — which, I dutifully advise you, is available on leaderpost.com, itunes and Google Play Music.
The first order of business pertained to what state the column would be in when ready for ingestion.
Accordingly, I asked my wife Chryssoula Filippakopoulos, who has requested anonymity, if I could borrow her shredder — the same one into which she fed our marriage license not long ago.
Having acquired the shredder, I figured out how to use the device in only 63 short minutes.
That being done, I found a copy of the column and clipped it out of the newspaper, ready for consumption.
Then came the podcast, on which I was accompanied by Leader-post football writer/foodie Murray McCormick and former L-P scribe Bruce Johnstone. (Bruce, by the way, is one of the few people who has attended all four Roughriders Grey Cup victories.)
For the first 25 minutes, we discussed all matters pertaining to the Roughriders. The entire time, I was enveloped by a feeling of dread, knowing what was coming.
Our producer, Mark Melnychuk, eventually gave me the “wrap it up” sign, so I complied.
The big ending, at which I hinted early in the podcast, was the eating of the column.
Out came the shredder — which I promptly forgot how to use.
We wasted at least a minute of valuable podcast time while I fumbled around, trying to grasp the intricacies of the process.
Bruce eventually figured it out for me. I did it all by myself.
Technical issues being resolved, I reached for the column and fed it into the shredder.
“Shreddies!” Murray quipped. Once the column was sliced and diced and consequently more readable than usable, I reached into the shredder bin for some of the contents and jammed them into my mouth.
(This is journalism at its finest. National Newspaper Award, please.)
I quickly concluded that shredded newspaper tasted like, er, shredded newspaper. It didn’t exactly melt in my mouth.
Bottled water to the rescue! Suddenly, the column turned to pulp, which I made a valiant attempt at swallowing.
It.
Did.
Not.
Go.
Down.
Easily.
Several dousings of bottled water were the solution. Barely.
Eventually, I was able to choke down the column — do not try this yourself — and wrap up the podcast.
I did so while struggling with elocution and composure. In other words, the podcast was back to normal.
Roll credits ...
A valuable lesson was learned as a result of this.
Never, ever make outlandish boasts or declarations. Your words can come back to haunt you. Trust me.
In conclusion, I feel obliged to assure the readership that I will never again put myself in a position where I must eat my column.
If I renege on that promise, I will eat this column.