“Man, I gotta have that hat.”

 It was lunchtime. Woody wanted to eat at Salt Lick Barbeque before he headed off to the airport. I obliged.

As we were walking out, a finger was aimed at me like a gun and a voice said, “Man, I gotta have that hat.”

Most people think my hats look ridiculous, though few come out and say it.

Ridiculous are us. Ridiculous is what I do.

“Friend, it's yours.”

“You really giving me this?”

“You've got great taste. I want you to have it.”

“I've been wantin' one a'these ever since I saw Corky Nelson's back in High School.”

“Was Corky Nelson your friend?”

“He was my football coach.” The man extended his hand. “I'm Earl Campbell.”

Truth be told, real Irish flatcaps like mine are hard to find because you have to order them from Donegal, Ireland.

I learned Earl Campell and me have the same birthday. In a couple of weeks I'll be 50 and he'll be 53.

Happy Birthday, Earl. Enjoy the hat.

Roy H. Williams