Hey everyone, Marty In Hawaii here checking in. I wanted to weigh in on the heat Mark Harlan’s been getting for his comments about the game. Here’s a little secret: Mark and I grew up together, though I hadn’t thought about him in years—until I saw him last night on my 90-inch plasma TV (a Father’s Day gift from my son-in-law).

You see, growing up boundaries never meant much to Mark. He was always drawn to the feeling of grass under his feet, like it was his true home. As kids, we called him “Grassfoot Harlan,” “Barefoot Bandit,” or my favorite, “The Grass Man,” because he’d kick off his shoes anywhere—backyard games, family picnics, even my cousin’s wedding! Mark was always a bit rambunctious.

One summer, he showed up barefoot at a formal barbecue. His mom gave him a look, but he just shrugged her off, wiggling his toes in the grass with his plate full of ground beef and jello. “Grass is freedom,” he’d say gently, like he was letting us in on some kind of secret. I’ll never forget that mischievous smile. He’s still got it too! Mark could be intense, even reckless sometimes. He didn’t see lines the way others did. But judging him for that? It never felt right—and it still doesn’t.

Even years later, at high school reunions, he’d be the one kicking off his shoes, grinning when people stared. I remember my wife once asking, “Why always barefoot, Mark?” He just shrugged and beamed. “When my feet touch the ground, I’m really here.”

Seeing him so fired up on my giant tv last night, I got it. Mark’s way is messy, sure—but there’s something freeing in that mess, even if it costs you $40,000. Let’s remember to treat others the way we’d want to be treated. We’re only here so long on this earth - Gotta remember what’s important.

Good Game Utah!

With Love, Marty in Hawaii