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Ed Note: I got the news today, oh boy. My friend, John Raffa, finally surrendered to the onslaught that cancer was afflicting on his body and shuffled off of this dirt ball we call Earth. John won't be able to rewrite or make a last minute correction of this story. Sorry, Mean John, but this one is going to press as is.

There will be a lot of "tributes" to John Raffa, this won't be one of them. As well-meaning as the "tributes" will be, I knew John to be a guy who shunned the spotlight, reveled in his friends, hated the status quo and lived for the unique. I believe that he wouldn't want us to wring our hands and wail. I think he would instead prefer we celebrate instead. I think John would have said, "For God's sake, Jeffie, if you must do this (obit) then at least do something entertaining and unique." Here ya go, John. With all of that in mind, DRO's gonzo journalist and resident poet Chris Martin offers his remembrances of "Mean John." JB

-30-

MEAN JOHN

1/21/04

Hey bud, I heard you were sick, got it from the pages of our old alma mater, or in your case, one of several alma maters, National DRAGSTER. You were down. At first, I paid it no mind, you struck me almost all of the time as a survivor and I hate using a word like that given all of the geek TV shows that milk it for every worthless drop. But in my mind, I felt that "Mean John" would some how pull a "Joe Montana" in the last minute and a half and rally impressively. From what I heard, it fell a little short.

Based on the ND info, I e-mailed you, the usual "buck-up" stuff, and in between the margins that I was terribly fond of you and that I was sure somehow it would all resolve itself. And then a weird thing happened ...

I'm writing a book on pro boxing, about fighters who were great, but never quite got the deal of cards that made things right, i.e. World Champs. Five days before you got off the bus, and in the middle of my recording the bouts on the computer of the great Dave Holly, a turn-of-the century welterweight who was undefeated in 97 straight fights, I get one of those irritating, "someone needs to die" pop-up ads. This ad was something different. Not how to get sexy abs or get laid, but one with the heading "JBRaffa", right in the middle of what I'm doing. "Raffa?" I hadn't heard from you in the two or three weeks that I wrote you the "get better" e-mail, so I thought I'd shut off my research and see what's up. I did, and got nothing.

Well, it came to this ... and that.

"That." Now, with 20-30 hindsight an SOS? Chris, things are a little more serious than we thought? Don't worry, everybody treads this trail, sooner or later? Treasure the memories, have fun, do the do?

The "do."

NHRA ... New guy hired.
Comes in the door
Looks like he's wired,
got hair to the floor.











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