Surprised but not annoyed to discover I couldn't remember his name, I call the sports department of a local newspaper to help me.
"Hello, sports department?"
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you happened to know the name of the owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers. I'm doing a story about him and I need to know his name."
"Uh, I don't think I understand," says the sports department. "You're doing a story about somebody and you don't even know his name?"
"It's not that I don't know his name," I answer, "it's just that I've forgotten it, which is a good sign, actually."
"I don't think I...."
"What I mean is I love the way this guy owned the Dodgers in 1981. He did a terrific job of owning a ball club. For me he was the single most refreshing sports figure of the year. Also, he helps me explain why I'm not such a red-hot baseball fan anymore. So can you give me his name?"
"Yeah, sure. It's, uh.... Can you hold a sec?"
There are muffled noises on the line. The sports department has its hand over the receiver and is talking among itself. It finally comes back on.