“The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of man.”- John Steinbeck EAST of EDEN

I ran into Bruce the other day. You remember Bruce- the overly opinionated elderly neighbor who lived just around the corner from me and who now lives quite literally ‘up the hill and around the corner.’ Well, not necessarily ran into… I intentionally drove by his house to see if he was tinkering in his yard, as I know that is his favorite thing to do this time of year. And yes, he was. And yes, his yard was still perfectly pristine with an assortment of various garden vegetation in full bloom and the lawn looking crisper than a freshly ironed pair of Levis. (Yessir his lawn is the pearl of this street)

Bruce, as you may remember, is a lifelong, passionate Utes fan who had far less than high expectations for the team coming into last season, even though there were lots of positive opinions surrounding Cam Rising and National excitement to see what he could do at QB in his final senior season.

So, based on his insight being nearly 100% spot on last August, I thought it would be fair to get his perspective on this year’s football team.

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-ME: So, Bruce…what do you think about the Utes chances this year?
Bruce: Well, we’ve got as good a chance as anybody. That damn Big 12 seems like a wide-open horse race to me, with no clear-cut favorite.
Me: So, you think the Utes can make the conference championship? Or….make the playoffs?
Bruce: Look, I’m not getting too excited about anything these days, but I think there’s a certain possibility that Utah wins at least 10 games this year.

And before I could ask the next question, he volunteered his long opinion on the team, which sums up in short as this:

Bruce: Look, last season all the hype around the team was around one individual. Can Cam lead us? Can Cam do this? Can Cam do that? And that’s just not how you win football games, if you ask me. Now, this season, Coach Kyle has his type of team. A team that needs to be coached and rely on each other. A team that has a lot of seniors looking to end the right way–And teams win football games, not individuals. I think this is a good football TEAM. And as long as no one’s individual ego gets in the way, I think doubling our wins from last year is more than possible-barring injuries of course.

We sat on his concrete pad under the shade of an oversized Ponderosa Pine for about twenty minutes and visited. Well, if visiting means a one-sided conversation, led completely by him. He craves these encounters but acts like they are an inconvenience. He comes off annoyed at a simple question but then gives a hundred-thousand-word PHD level dissertation on the topic as if he’d been waiting his entire life for the moment.

I sipped my soda while sweat pooled under my arms and dripped from my forehead and listened to all of his ways to fix all of the problems. Some made more sense than others. Like he said, he was “on his way out,” and his less than inclusive takes on America’s future reflected through his ideology.

To me, it was standup comedy at its finest. The guy very well could be an 80+ year old version of Bill Burr with his dry, pointed delivery and outlandish takes. To others, he may have invoked an argument, which is 100 pct his goal, and I’ve known this since he got a rise out of me a couple of years ago before I knew him well. I’m an expert at navigating ‘conversations’ with him at this point. It’s all laughs. He’s also avoided certain topics that he knows are across the line with me. It’s a mutual respect.

As I’ve written before, he’s a sweet guy who does kind things, but loves to be right and will argue even the smallest point to a nub. Such as how the “McDonalds near us only hires illiterate immigrants and the place hasn’t been good since.” I’ve personally enjoyed a McMuffin from this exact location probably forty times and it’s been hot, delicious, and served with a smile, so we were on very different sides that day.

He still buys cigarettes for the widow that lives across the street from him. Something he has done for 17 years. There is a kindness to that gesture that shouldn’t be forgotten. He is kind to his lawn and garden, and by proxy, his street by keeping everything perfect. He’s kind. Whether he likes it or not, he’s kind. But boy, he sure does do a helluva job hiding it.

He loves Coach Whittingham though. Let me tell you, there are two people that I’ve never heard Bruce criticize when speaking about them, Coach Kyle Whittingham and his late wife who passed seven years ago. That’s elite company right there.

To get back on topic, he believes “This is Coach Whitt’s team. He knows how to win with this type of team and these types of players…There are leaders on the O-line that will not let this team fail.” This is a far different energy than last year, when he thought they wouldn’t make a bowl game. Pretty sure he said that two days after Utah’s Thursday night home opening 49-0 win over Southern Utah. The man saw something he didn’t like. Not this year. This year, Bruce believes in Coach Whittingham’s Utes.

If you’re familiar with the 1996 De Palma “Mission Impossible,” Bruce shares a voice, tone, and eyebrow fortitude with actor John McLaughlin in that film. He’s framed more like the late Tim Conway in his golden years.

We were in the shade, but 98 is 98. It’s hot no matter where you are. Sure 98 is 115 in places like India, the Amazon, Florida and all of middle America, but 98 with 11pct humidity is still quite the baking experience. This heat dries you out and then bakes you. In Middle America and Florida it’s more like a constant boiling. Hot is hot. It’ll end soon.

He offered me a cigarette, but I stuck with the can of soda he pulled from his backyard mini fridge. Bruce burned down about four Winstons in our half hour encounter. Upon lighting the fourth and perhaps catching my eye taking notice of it, he defended it with, and I’ll use his words,

“I’m on the way out. Just acting accordingly.” We both laughed and reminisced the Scorsese flick where Nickleson says something similar.

I thanked him for the soda and conversation and stood to shake his hand. He rocked out of his to meet me in the middle and met my hand with a firmer grip than I expected. Up to this point, we’d never shared a handshake. We would just walk by the other persons house once in a while and chat in the front yard, but never formally. This was different.

His wide palm vice gripped my hand at the knuckles and kept constant, firm pressure long enough to grab my attention. It wasn’t uncomfortably long but long enough for him to say distinctly,

“Never forget your wife.“

I was a little taken aback by the sudden shift in tone and muttered something like,

ME: Oh, uh, yessir. Of course.

BRUCE: I mean it. You might know one day.

Bruce only chokes up when speaking passionately about the Utah Football coach and tenderly about his wife. This was one of those times that any grit-bellied, steel chinned western man would blame the moisture in his eyes on the dust. He didn’t blame the dust. He wanted me to see the tears.

His sweaty grey eyes and grip passed along a deeper message. One interpreted by me this way,

I know you never take me seriously kid, but you need to hear this one thing.

I did listen and have thought on that moment many times since that day.

Upon returning home, I noticed a vase full of fresh flowers on the kitchen table and immediately thought of my wife.

“She brightened the house in a million little ways” as Hanks delivers in “Sleepless in Seattle.” I think I get it Bruce. I really, really do.

COME ON UTES! WIN it this Year for Bruce!