A hopeless creature of habit, I’ve long bought my Tennessee lottery tickets from the same smoke shop on South Broad, even though I’ve never tried my first tobacco product. (Losing your dad to emphysema will do that to you).
But because I’ve probably frequented his store far more than I should, owner Kamlesh Patel has eventually figured out what I do for a living.
“Ever covered cricket?” he asked a few weeks ago.
Told no, he replied, “You should. We’re about to start a new league season. We play every Saturday and Sunday in Ringgold.”
I said that sounded interesting, then filed it away in the floorboard of my car, where too many story ideas, phone numbers and traveling receipts have been permanently disfigured by spilled Starbucks, loose French fries and losing lottery tickets.