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Before the dreadful diagnosis that broke so many hearts, when the lines he had written quit coming so easily to him, Tim Rosaforte began to look understandably anxious before having to do a two- or three-minute live spot. One night at the Masters, though, he looked into the camera and delivered his words beautifully, without straining for a thought or a word. I felt so happy for him and wanting to say something that perhaps might give him a little confidence, I simply said, “Great hit, Tim.” He looked at me with a sort of doubt-riven half-smile and said, “It was in teleprompter. I had to put it in teleprompter.”
With those words, I could tell that he either suspected or knew – even without an Alzheimer’s diagnosis – what nobody would ever want to face, and yet what he could not avoid. I felt at once embarrassed for not knowing he was reading off teleprompter and crestfallen for now knowing there might be a medical reason for his imprecision. Fumbling to amend my words, I said, “Well, it was a good read and well written.” He tried to smile, but it seemed the disquieting reality wouldn’t let him, and he turned around and walked off the set.
Golf world continues paying tribute to ‘graceful’ Rosaforte
The Rosie I had known at Golf Channel was a fitness fanatic who relentlessly pursued stories. He was physically and mentally sharp. He could, between a morning and afternoon show, get in a workout and then get back to working his two phones. I can still see him off in the corner of our set asking someone to call him back on one phone and then answering the other one a second later. He was the kind of reporter that everyone called back, not because he knew when something was off the record or because he was fair and accurate – although he most certainly did and was – but because he had a settled disposition that radiated warmth and compassion.
In a business where everybody is looking at the same scoreboard and listening to the same quotes and trying…
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Source : yahoo
