After falling asleep early in the evening, I woke up around 2:15 this morning and after getting a glass of kool-aid, plopped down at the computer to see what was happening in the world. My first order of business was to check up on Darren McFadden's toe incident, so I went to the leader in Razorback news – Woopig.Net – expecting to read four more pages of how the season is shot, Nutt should be fired and Reggie Herring is an idiot.

And while I got exactly what I expected, there was some unexpected news.

Paul Eells, the Voice of the Razorbacks, had died.

Eells, the Razorbacks' football radio voice since 1978 and KATV Ch. 7 Sports Director, was in a fatal head-on accident on I-40 in Russellville that killed him and the driver of the other vehicle.

Having grown up high on the Hogs, I had heard Paul Eells call many a game. He was one of those institutions in the business, one of those guys synonymous with the team he worked for. I had seen him on television, and at the time without really knowing the definition of a consummate professional, just knew he was a lot better than the guys I was accustomed to seeing on KAIT in Jonesboro. I later understood him to be not only better than the KAIT guys, but better than most.

There was an endearing quality about Paul that drew you in immediately. He seemed nearly like your grandfather talking to you through the television set. Unlike many in the media today, particularly TV, he wasn't a sensationalist blowhard out to create news or make himself the show or any of the other antics popular among many today.

He dearly loved the teams he followed, to some maybe to a fault. But he was loyal and looked for the best in people, and as far as I could tell never believed in taking people to task every chance he could get.

I viewed Paul Eells much in the same fashion as I did the other legendary broadcaster I grew up on – the immortal Harry Caray. Fitting, as they both went out without the chance to do it on their own terms, without a proper farewell.

Harry sucked you in immediately and there's no way you couldn't like the guy. He was getting up there in age, made a handful of mistakes on the air and had his legion of naysayers who kind of wanted him out. But at the end of the day, you still enjoyed listening to him – warts and all.

It was the same way with Paul. Sure, people got frustrated hearing "Jones takes the snap, gives it to Cobb... no, it's a pass to Richard Wils... wait that's Jason Peters up over the 35, the 40, the 18, the 27 and it's intercepted!!" and people moaned and groaned. But it wasn't because they hated Paul Eells. It was because they didn't enjoy seeing their legendary announcer limping around looking like Willie Mays in a Mets uniform or Michael Jordan in a Wizards jersey. People like their heroes perfect, and to many Razorback faithful, Paul Eells was as much a part of the program as Frank Broyles, Houston Nutt and the 3rd-and-long smoke draw. And it usually all went away the next time he belted out his signature "TOUCHDOWN ARKANSAS!" call.

I only had the opportunity to meet Paul in person on one occasion – at the 2005 NCAA Division II women's basketball Elite Eight in Hot Springs. I had heard for years that you will never meet a nicer person than Paul Eells, and from that day I saw nothing that would dispute that. He clearly had the respect of everybody in the room, and he enjoyed chatting and hamming it up with everybody.

In those few brief minutes I shared a room with him, I did take one great memory from it. Kai and I had taken our seats at the table behind Paul there in the hospitality room to dig in to a few plates of delicious food. I had my back nearly to Paul's, with me being slightly off his left shoulder. As I went to dig into my food, when my fork hit the plate the cheap plastic of the utensil had some crazy fit of spontaneous combustion and went spraying across the room. All I had left in my hand was the top half of the handle.

One of the prongs hit me, another ended up on the other side of Garland County, Kai narrowly dodged another and the last one flew past me and clanged off the back of Paul Eells' chair at approximately the speed of sound. I reached down and picked it up, then turned back around and we immediately laughed for a good five minutes, joking about how I had nearly killed Paul Eells with a plastic fork. (Sitting here reading this, the story just doesn't translate well to the Internet. You had to be there. It was hilarious. Trust me on this one.)

When relaying the story to UCA Sports Information Director Steve East later that day, I vividly remember him saying "Congratulations, you almost killed the nicest man on the planet."

That, as far as I can tell, was pretty much the universal thought on Paul Eells and – and, along with "TOUCHDOWN ARKANSAS!" – is how I'll remember him.