Columnist Bob Bridge: It was 1989 and I was in dire need of a haircut. Fortunately, that meant only a step out the front door of the newsp

I’ve often wondered if I could endure solitary confinement. One never knows for sure, but I believe I could.

Clouds hung ominously low, like an eerie yellow gauze, as the jet that would fly me out of Birmingham rumbled down the runway.

It is with deep gratitude and respect that we honor Bob Bridge, whose work as a journalist and sports writer touched so many lives. For...