Sometimes people call newspaper reporters to say, "Hey, nice job on your article!"
But most of the time, they call and say things like what I just heard from a guy who dropped me a line about 10 minutes ago about this week's Left Field column.
"Do you know anything about UConn basketball?" he asked.
"Yeah, of course," I said. Because I do. I love Kemba Walker and the bunch, actually.
"Then how dare you say the things you did about Jim Calhoun, one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth. You think this Hall of Fame coach will really be remembered for recruiting violations?"
Here's the weird thing. That column -- which is a humor column, by the way -- never even named Jim Calhoun, and only included one sentence that referenced him. But the clearly well-adjusted man on the other end cared not for that explanation, opting rather to explain that "he's seen" my picture in the paper (don't look, it's not there) and he was going to track me down and that I should be ready for him.
I laughed. But he wasn't joking. He seriously wants to rumble over a tongue-in-cheek sports column.
"I'll be the guy wearing all the UConn shit," he said, before calling me a few names and making some moderately terrifying threats, as I tried to thank him for reading the paper, because I'm a terribly nice person, even when someone wants to punch me.
Let me make clear that I think UConn fans are a generally affable bunch and this guy isn't representative of the Husky faithful. But damn dude, it's just a sports column. The Final Four is great, but let's all settle down, OK?