I’ve long thought that Sam Champion is ABC’s version of what Brian Williams is to NBC. They’re both human Ken dolls, part robotic, but nonetheless pros in their respective news arenas. Both men are perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed, looking as if they’d never be caught dead in a pair of stretched out, oversized Hanes sweatpants lounging on the couch eating from a bag of Cheetos. Brian Williams aside, I doubt that Sam Champion would ever wear a pair of jeans twice, unlike Anderson Cooper who admitted he only washes his four times a year. That’s once a quarter or roughly once per season for perspective. (Calling Gloria Vanderbilt for an immediate intervention. Your son needs you.) I know what you’re thinking; I only bring up two gay men simply for the clothing analogy.
So back to the broadcast. My first tear fell when Josh Elliot began saying his good-byes. Full disclosure, I don’t even like Josh Elliot. Something about him grates on my nerves. I’m sure he’s a wonderful man. (Whew-conscience cleared.) I do enjoy seeing that sensitive side of men. I think that’s my motherly instinct even if Josh Elliot is my contemporary. (Side note: That cougar thing would never work out for me; (a) because I’m married and (b) because I look at boys/men as someone to be mothered. Having kids might’ve screwed me in more ways than one.) Moving on…
Moments before Josh ever spoke, I saw him fidgeting and looking down in the wide shot before the camera panned to him. (That’s me talking without any firsthand news experience.) Josh, if I can call him by his first name, began choking up when talking about his friendship with Sam and how people referred to it as a newfangled bromance. (Side note: Isn’t it odd how a close friendship between two men automatically raises eyebrows?)
After I shed a few tears and caught myself wondering why in the hell I’m crying during a freaking morning show, I realized my emotions had nothing to do with Sam Champion’s new venture at The Weather Channel. A channel by the way that I only turn on when I want to hear another meteorologist’s predictions about whether Atlanta will receive “frozen-precip.” (That’s the buzzword in these parts.) No, I think my tears were strictly attributed to my hormones, which have been in overdrive these past few days leading my son to ask me if I’m pregnant. Four kids are more than enough, thank you. And, besides son, “Daddy’s fixed,” but I’ll save that discussion for another day.
So, farewell Sam Champion. Come tomorrow morning, I can’t say that I’ll necessarily notice your absence from the GMA bunch. My mornings are usually full watching local news stories, flipping to Fox to see Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s blunders, and getting an extra dose of Willie Geist on MSNBC. (Love me some Willie. Wait. That sounds wrong.) Yet when the time comes, I just might have to switch on The Weather Channel to get a glimpse of Sam Champion at his new home. That is if People magazine or another gossip site doesn’t update me first.