“Hey Mr. Sharp.”
I heard it all the time and it drove me crazy. I am not Drew ”Boodini” Sharp. My name is Terry Foster. People got us mixed up all the time.
“Hey Mr. Sharp I enjoy you on ESPN.”
“Hey Drew why are you so rough on the Big Ten.”
I know we all look alike but that’s not me. I am the other light-skinned bald brother.
I had an agreement with Drew. I treated everybody nicely who confused me for him because he didn’t want to be perceived as a jerk except in his newspaper columns in the Detroit Free Press. He did the same for me because he was called Terry Foster hundreds of times.
There was a major difference between me and Drew. He was losing his hair and was trying to hold on to every last piece of it. I was not a fan of the Bozo look and shaved my head.
I also had children. Drew did not.
That didn’t stop someone from saying ”I didn’t know you had a daughter” while taking a walk with my daughter Celine.
Sadly no one has confused me for Boodini in a while. He died last October and no one calls me Mr. Sharp any more.
Now I miss it.