It can't be.
Bob Barrows. SportsBob. Sloof Lirpa. Call him whatever you will, just as long as you call him retired.
That's right, the Old Man of the Newsroom is walking away after almost 43 years in the business, 31 of which have been served right here on the corner of Fifth and C streets.
During that span, Bob has covered everything from the inaugural Super Bowl to the Smash Bash Demolition Derby. He's also influenced a number of budding sports journalists, myself included.
Barrows' bylines were commonplace throughout my youth in Lewiston. His is without a doubt the most recognizable name on the Tribune's sports staff, at least among those who've been reading the paper for any length of time.
And I have to say, I'm sure going to miss him.
I'm going to miss his trademark quips, like the one that opened this story.
"What's this?" he'd screech, midway through one of the zillions of sports schedules he logged over the years.
"Nezperce and Troy are playing boys' basketball at Deary on the same night?
"It can't be!"
Or when his computer pulled a fast one on him, which is something it liked to do more and more over the years.
"You can't even breathe on this thing!" he'd say, perturbed and longing for the bygone days of typewriters and pica poles.
Then there were the long, boring spring evenings when rain had washed out all our games and we'd pass the time by simply asking, "Bob, tell us about the old days."
"Ahhhhh, the old days," he'd sigh.
Then, as if on cue, he'd dig up some story about his years at the University of California, or the one about his long-ago dance with Betty Grable. If you were lucky, it would be a tale about meeting his wife, Sue, while he was stationed in Austria.
Some of my fondest memories of Bob were centered around the successes -- and failures -- of his favorite sports teams.
Raised in the Bay Area, Bob's loyalties lie with his beloved Oakland A's and Raiders, the Cal Bears and the Golden State Warriors.
And you always knew his mood would be determined by how well each team was doing during its respective season.
"Don't tell me how the A's did tonight!" he'd exclaim to all in hearing distance, "I'm taping the game at home."
A few days later, I'd ask him how the game in question turned out. Of course I already knew, which made his response even more entertaining.
"Ohhhh, those Yankees. What a bunch of bums!"
On many occasions, Bob entertained us without even being here. Fellow sportswriter Matt Baney and I are always on the lookout for Bob's old columns, particularly the one he used to write for the Trib's April Fools Day editions.
The story would always include his old pal Sloof Lirpa, whose name came be deciphered when spelled backwards, lending a hint to the true nature of his intentions.
But Sloof Lirpa retired a few years back, and now Bob is ready to join him. I guess that means our living sports encyclopedia won't be here to provide insight on people and events that played and took place long before most of us were born.
Although he may be gone, Bob's memory will live on here at the sports desk, particularly when Grangeville and Potlatch are both scheduled to play football games at Lapwai on the same night.
"It can't be!" we'll exclaim.
No, it most certainly can't be.
------
Bauer may be contacted at dbauer@lmtribune.com