They always ask if I felt something. “Across your foot? Your shin?” My shin?Â
“Yeah. Your ankle. Did you feel it?” Not really. But before I respond, they ask again.
What was it like?” they inquired. “Or did you just fall?” Then they speculated I might be clumsy.
Hmmph. Clumsy. I truly dont think so.
Oh. I fall like everyone else. I work out daily. Ive taken a couple of tumbles on predawn runs in Alexandria, Virginia. You never know when one of those sidewalk snakes will slither up from the asphalt and nip you on the ankle. I used to snow ski. I studied martial arts for years and hold a second degree black belt.
Clumsy? Nah.
“But, what do you think it was?” they follow up. Well, I have my theories.
I was a little tired that day. I noted the lip on the small staircase near the Memorial Door of the U.S. Capitol where I may have caught the edge of my brown loafers.
I remember my shoes. Rubber soles. Slight scuff on the toes. Perfectly matched with my crisp tan summer suit. Not quite an “Obama” tan suit. But appropriate for summer. And I thought at least reasonably dapper for traipsing around the U.S. Capitol and covering Congress on a sweltering July day.
Was it the shoes? My fatigue? Or how about my haste to “get the story.” I spotted then-Canadian Prime Minister and his small coterie of aides and a security detail descending a spiral staircase after a meeting with then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. D-Calif.
I would try to ask Trudeau a question.
No. This really doesnt have anything to do with Trudeau. Or the fact that I recalled that there was a picture of him, aged about 14 or 15, at Olympic Stadium in Montreal, rooting for the Expos. Hes there with his father â the most storied of all Canadian prime ministers â the late Pierre Trudeau.
Of course, the Expos no longer play in Montreal. They dont play at all. They moved to Washington in 2005 and are now the Nationals. And this was before the tariff wars. Montreal has been bereft of Major League Baseball ever since.
What would Youppi! Say?
Look him up, kids.
No, there wasnt something across my shin or ankle. I didnt feel anything. I was there, on those steps, in the U.S. Capitol, because Im a baseball fan. And I found out that Justin Trudeau watched those old Montreal Expos teams in the 1980s. Stocked with Andre Dawson, Warren Cromartie and Steve Rogers. And even though Trudeau was there to discuss affairs of state with Pelosi and others, I was there to ask him about the national pastime.
Ironic, I know, to pose such an interrogative to a .
However, the reason was that there was a report that the Tampa Bay Rays might consider splitting their season each year between Florida and Montreal. Big league baseball would return to Quebec. It would be international news if Trudeau commented. It would appear on Fox. FS1. ESPN. TSN in Canada. And Montreal â famously robbed of perhaps winning the World Series in 1994 with the best team in the game that year because of the players strike â might have a shot again at baseball glory.
But journalism is like baseball. A game of failure. You sometimes swing and miss. Youre doing great if youre successful three out of ten times.
And sometimes, in journalism, the question is never asked.
That was this day. On those steps. Questions about the Rays and Montreal were muted. All because of whatever got me.
Absolutely got me.
I stepped toward Trudeau, mumbled something about Tampa Bay and bought it.
I fell on those steps. Directly in front of the Canadian Prime Minister. On the hard Capitol marble.
I quickly realized I was about to fall. With a microphone in one hand, I couldnt catch myself. I was confident Id break a wrist or a hand if I tried to catch myself.
So, I just went with it and fell.
And because I studied martial arts for all of those years from Master Kim and Master Yang back at the T
