A Tribute to Champion Scott (don't worry, he's not dead)

Happy belated birthday to my exceptional little brother.  For those of you who have never met him, Scott is the perfect balance between hilarious-pee-your-pants-funny and Mr. Rogers.

There was a time in his life when he could recite every breakfast he'd eaten for the past few months, and he knows ALL the lines in Princess Bride and This is Spinal Tap.  When he won at Scrabble, he made everyone in the house call him "Champion Scott" for at least a day.  He has a way of making the ordinary . . . well . . . the last time he was here, he played Happy Birthday to David and Nicholas on a dollar bill in the middle of Red Robin, and the restaurant erupted in applause when he finished.  When he was younger, he played his armpit. 

Scott is a musician.  He loves music . . . playing it, listening to it, and sharing it with others.  He married his soulmate, a musician who is the best thing that ever happened to him (next to having me for his sister).  Thank you Andrea for making him happy, and for feeding him well!

When Scott was in 5th grade, he came home from school and announced that he would be joining the school orchestra.  When mom told him that she would have his grandfather's violin restrung, he told her that wouldn't be necessary since the teacher said that he was "smart enough to play the bass."  And, as they say, "the rest is history."

Scott leads a charmed life.  He wins weird stuff.  One November when he was in elementary school, the doorbell rang during dinner the night before Thanksgiving. There was a guy from Baskin-Robbins standing there holding a turkey made out of ice cream that Scott had somehow won. 

Some people would call it luck, but it's more . . . much more.  Interesting people are constantly crossing his path.  Just last week, he mailed me Rick Santorum's boarding pass (the Senator had apparently left it on his seat, and Scott thought I'd be amused by his close encounter).  He's friends with Leonard Nemoy and Tony Tenille.  He's played music with Pearlman and Pavarotti (he'll be the first to tell you that Reno is a GREAT town for music).  He's played pick-up basketball with the Marsallis brothers, and he's bummed a ride home with their dad.  When Scott was little, he got a letter from Tommy Lasorda encouraging his dream of playing second base for the Dodgers.  But, I think music suits him better (and it has a longer shelf-life).

I can honestly say that I've never met anyone who doesn't like my brother.  (Okay, maybe that guy who called him a Zombie Nazi, but deep down I'm sure he likes Scott too.)

Happy birthday Champion Scott!

Love,

Your Sister