I admit right here and right now I am a Deadliest Catch fan. Jason and I got hooked when we were home with a new born Chugger, Discovery had a week of marathons. The concept is simple and almost silly, watch a bunch of dudes catch crab? I’d heard of it before and passed, figuring it would be stupid. Boy was I wrong.
Discovery, a network I never should have doubted, I put together a group of boats that had compelling stories and men aboard. They worked hard to catch the real work and the real danger without making it hoaky.
I go between favorite captains and crews, but I always admired Capt. Phil and his relationship with his sons. A mix between normal fatherly frustration and boss, love and annoyance, pride and disappointment. In short, normal. When I heard about his stroke during Opi season I prayed. Not just for him but his sons, and when I heard he’d passed away I admit I cried a little.
Anytime I’d heard of someone running into Phil they always said the same thing, how nice he was, how patient he was, how great he was with kids. It’s hard to hide being a jerk when you’re just some guy who was fishing one day and on TV the next. There isn’t much time to deal with the fame, the people, the demands.
Tonight I’m going to watch the two hour special and I’m going to cry and I’m going to laugh I’m sure. And I’m going to pray for his sons, that they always carry him in their heart and treasure the special relationship they were able to have with him. And I’m going to say my own good bye.
RIP Phil, you were a good egg.