Ire & Nice: GO Hour duo's run comes to an end as Gabe Bock departs radio
Robert Frost speculated about the end of the world in a classic poem called “Fire and Ice.”
An appropriate title for anything ever written about the end of the ‘GO Hour’ would be “Ire and Nice.”
That’s what you get when combining a cynical skeptic with an eternal optimist.
We’ve probably teamed up for more than 2,000 shows.
The actual number of shows is uncertain because that might be the one thing for which Gabe does not have a count down. Also, the myriad of Gabe’s vacation days (“Gabe-cations,” as we call them) would have to be subtracted. That alone might bring the total to under 1,500.
The show’s title was simple enough … much like the show. GO was taken from the first letter in our first names. The show was also Gabe’s idea. Pairing us together on the radio didn’t really make much sense because we are as different as fire and ice — or ire and nice.
Gabe provides the nice.
Everyone is his “good buddy.” Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. Even in a hurricane, the sun is always shining in Gabe’s world.
I provide the ire.
My close friends can be counted on one hand. I tend to doubt people’s true intentions. I look for the clouds on a sunny day.
Gabe is of high moral fiber. I am not.
Gabe proclaims he’s never set foot in a script (strip) club. I do not.
Gabe frowns at scantily clad co-eds at SEC venues. I do not.
Gabe avoids using profanity. I do not.
Gabe is a pillar of decency. I am a pillar of dereliction.
I am the Oscar Madison to Gabe’s Felix Unger.
Gabe’s voice is as smooth as velvet. Mine is as annoying as fingernails raked across a chalkboard.
Gabe loves the spotlight. I’m comfortable in his shadow.
Yet, somehow, the ‘GO Hour’ has worked ever since Gabe pitched the idea to me eight years ago.
Every day, Gabe would come up with topics of conversation. Every day, I’d spout my opinions.
We often disagreed. That was fine.
That’s not to imply there haven’t been problems.
I am not a morning person. I’m often tired, irritable and just plain grouchy before having my morning “Bang” energy drink.
Most days, I’d show up to work angry. I’d be angry that two five-star quarterbacks exited Texas A&M within a week. I’d be angry the Aggies blew a 34-point lead in 17 minutes to UCLA. I’d be angry Texas A&M always faded in November. I’d be angry at Levy concessions or pee wee football coaches or politics.
Typically, Gabe sought to capitalize on my anger.
He dubbed me the “crusty curmudgeon.” He’d introduce me with an alliteration of hard-C adjectives for a weekly rant.
I’d typically arrive in the studio in a snit. Gabe already would be there … humming. Somehow, I always squelched the urge to shout: “CAN YOU STOP THAT GOD FORSAKEN HUMMING UNTIL AFTER NINE?”
But at least Gabe wasn’t singing.
He loves to sing. I love to chide him for it. Then, to his chagrin, I’d extol the sublime voices of Clay Taylor and Billy Liucci.
In May of 2013, he reminded our audience every morning that he would be singing the National Anthem on a Friday night at Olsen Field.
“I’ll probably start at 6:15, so you might want to get there by 6:10,” he said.
“Or 6:20,” I retorted.
Gabe laughed.
He didn’t mind being the punchline if it made the show more entertaining.
He endured jeers from me, Liucci, Dalton Hughes, Ryan Brauninger and others. We’d joke about how nobody else was making “Gabe Bock money” or his many Gabe-cations. He’d play along. He’d even make fun of himself for losing a race or making a bad pick. Whatever made the show better.
We even conspired to prank our audience at times.
On April 1, 2015, we heatedly debated whether A&M should ask to rejoin the Big 12. Some of you bought the argument hook, line and sinker until we said: “April Fools.”
However, Gabe wasn’t fooling last month when announcing he was leaving TexAgs Radio to become a local real estate mogul like Hunter Goodwin and Terrence Murphy.
The news was a shock. It still is. It won’t be the same without Gabe.
Or maybe it will. I’ll just think of it as another extended Gabe-cation.