Just when you think you've seen it all as a graybeard in this business -- now this.
For the past 48 hours, I've been immersed as a reporter in the coverage of the tragic murder-suicide involving Jovan Belcher of the Chiefs.
There's so much out there. You hear so many different things you have to sort through in determining what can be reported.
Then there's a sensitivity issue and privacy concerns with the families involved.
It's so much different than anything I've done in my reporting career. There are no X's and O's to deal with here. You don't have the luxury to analyze it.
It's the game of real life.
I've sat in the home of former players the last two days listening to them expound on the brutality of the sport, how some teammates had a difficult time getting back to reality each week after trying to pulverize one another for three hours on a football field.
We hear more and more about head injuries.
I'm certainly not qualified to speak on this, but I'm smart enough to realize head trauma can have a devastating impact on how lives are affected.
Look, it's wrong to blame this act of cowardice on football.
And please: The gun didn't kill Kasandra Perkins -- Jovan Belcher did it.
We'll never know what caused Belcher to snap.
We all deal with tragedies in our own way. It influenced me to reach out to loved ones.
In between reports over the weekend, I called each of my five kids to tell them, "I love you." I wanted to reassure them to call me if they need me.
I have been highly critical of Romeo Crennel in the way he has coached this football team, but I have a newfound respect for the coach as a man and the way he has handled this crisis.
This tragic story really does hit home when we think about that 3-month old baby. She is now without a mother and father because of this horrific tragedy.
We should all take a second or two and say a prayer for this little girl.
She needs our love.