The spring of 1985 owed me a morning.

Five days on the road covering wheelchair basketball in Eugene, Ore., 14-hour days stacked one on top of the other, and I had finally — finally — earned the sacred right to sleep in.

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My pillow and I had an understanding.

Then came a knock on my door so thunderous it could have registered on the Richter scale, followed by a voice I instantly recognized from somewhere deep in my mind’s soundtrack: “Hey, Tait! Get up, you lazy bum! Hurry up — the day is almost over!”

I pried one eye open, and in walked Steve Hogle, grinning ear to ear, lugging a tripod for a video camera like he was reporting live from my bedroom.

Steve might want to remember that morning this week.

Because after all these years of telling the rest of us to get up and get going, the man is finally allowed to sleep in.

Steve Hogle is retiring — and nobody has earned the snooze button more.

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But, honestly? Steve retiring? I’ll........

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