Dustin Dow pinch-blogging Sunday

I'm into my seventh season as the Enquirer's Bengals beat writer and, counting preseason games and the one playoff game, have covered 131 consecutive Bengals games. I smashed my hand in a car door in August in Buffalo before the preseason game and worked; every keystroke with my left index finger was a new experience in pain. I had bronchitis in Detroit in October 2001 -- and was in a car accident en route to the Silverdome -- yet made it into the press box five minutes before kickoff. I love what I do. It's who I am.

I can count on one hand the sick days I've used in 22 years in the newspaper business.

I'll be in Illinois on Sunday and will miss the Bengals-Atlanta game. I am leaving Saturday with my three children for my mother's visitation and funeral, which are Monday and Tuesday in Dixon. Of the seven children, and as the fifth of the seven, I've been honored with the task of writing and delivering my mother's eulogy, just as I did for my father in 2003. I wish sometimes there were two of me so I could do more; I wish often that I didn't have to sleep.

I'll be back to work Wednesday. I need to get my children back into school.

As much as I want to be there to see my siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles, and, most important, honor my mother, I have a hard time letting go of the beat -- even for a short time. I hate the idea of someone else working my blog, too, as selfish as that might sound. This blog has grown to mean as much to me as anything I do professionally. The interaction with readers and casual voice I'm allowed to use are immensely satisfying. I'm just now learning how to use it more effectively. I have a lot more to learn about this medium and its possibilities.

But, even in the short time this season, we have received feedback from readers who rely on the blog and have become accustomed to checking it for regular updates during games.

My colleague Dustin Dow is subbing for me for the game and will handle the blog. Kevin Kelly, my backup beat reporter, is likely to take care of the game story. The Gold Dust Twins.

My mother, Elizabeth, is the one who taught me most about the importance, value and rewards of hard work and smart work. I watched my father work as a Nabisco salesman for 35 years and often helped him stock shelves in grocery stores; he would never let any one out-effort or out-think him. So, like many people, I pride myself on my work ethic. I'm almost embarrassed to admit how difficult it feels (as I sit here at 5:13 p.m. Friday) to be missing a game on my beat.

But it's the right thing and only thing to do.

There's only one way, I think, to cover a major newspaper beat: with absolute devotion. It probably didn't do much to help my marriage, and my attitude toward my work undoubtedly contributed to the demise of the union, but you can't do this job unless you sweat every detail.

In the end, there's a lesson. There's always a lesson. A person's strength can also be a weakness.