Take a moment today and join u.s.a. in saying F U to cancer.

Don't just do information technology because it's satisfying, and let's face it, very much deserved. If annihilation deserves to be insulted with expletives, it's cancer. Practise it today, in particular, for Stuart Scott.

Scott, a longtime anchor for ESPN, whose infectious energy and enthusiasm (and catchphrases like "Boo-Yeah!") fabricated him one of the network's most beloved personalities, died this forenoon. He was only 49.

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Almost exactly ii years ago, I had an opportunity to sit downwardly with Scott for a long chat, for a about his ongoing battle with appendiceal cancer—he had recently been diagnosed for a third fourth dimension. To be honest, as much as I loved watching Scott on ESPN, I wasn't looking frontward to our interview. Cancer is not a fun topic, and the kinds of questions I had for him were not the things you're supposed to ask somebody, certainly not a stranger, who's in the midst of battling a affliction. Questions like "Just how bad is it" and "How do you stay hopeful, or practice you?"

And still, despite the grim subject matter, it concluded up existence ane of the virtually inspiring, motivating, and weirdly entertaining conversations I'd had in recent memory. When somebody is faced with very compelling bear witness of their bloodshed, you expect them to be a picayune morose or contemplative. Merely he talked nearly his cancer similar information technology was the drunk guy at a bar who didn't realize he was about to be escorted to the curb with extreme prejudice.

"Y'all're trying to invade my body," he said of his cancer. "You're trying to take me away from my daughters, but I'm stronger than you. And I'grand going to hit harder than yous. I know you're going to striking back just as hard, and I know sometimes you're going to knock me down. Merely I'yard going to get upward, and I'm going to kicking your ass."

He told me about his handling, which involved a chemo cocktail drip with the medical name fluorouracil, or 5FU. During his workouts—yes, he worked out regularly, fifty-fifty during chemo—he constitute a strange source of inspiration in that cocktail. "I'yard thinking, 'Okay, I've got 5FU running through me, and F U cancer,'" he said, laughing.

He wasn't all bravado and confidence. One infinitesimal, he was explaining how cancer wouldn't get the best of him. And the next, he was admitting simply how scared he was, and sharing stories almost his daughters, Taelor and Sydni (who are now 19 and fifteen years sometime, respectively). He told me how, similar all teenage girls experience near their fathers, they were embarrassed past him, specially his insistence on doing P90X, a high-intensity home exercise on DVD.

"Hither's the interesting affair about my 2nd bout with cancer," he said. "I had major surgery and I was in the hospital for most iii weeks. I still have a footlong scar running downward my tum. I lost thirty pounds, went downwardly to something like 160 pounds. I was skin and bones. And I remember something my youngest girl said to me. She was just 11 and a half at the time. I recollect she was looking at me, and she said, 'Just Dad, are you going to exist able to do P90X?' She was nigh crying, because she was worried. She was worried that I wouldn't be potent anymore, that I wouldn't exist able to exercise the affair that I loved and I e'er did, fifty-fifty though it embarrassed her. Information technology was such a sugariness, vulnerable moment.

"It's funny," he connected. "When y'all're a kid, in that location'southward nothing that your dad does that's cool. But all of a sudden, wait a 2nd, what if he tin can't be what he is? I desire them to know that I'm nevertheless strong. Even when they roll their optics at me, I'm walking upwardly the stairs after a conditioning, and I'll have my shirt off. If my oldest daughter is there, I'll say, 'Taylor, cheque it out. Dad's got a 6-pack.' She'll whorl her eyes and say, 'Y'all've got a problem, Dad. All y'all want to do is work out. There are other things in life. Who walks around flexing?' And I said, 'Your future hubby will.' And she, um... she..."

For the first and only time in our conversation, I heard Stuart'south voice tremble. He had to cease himself. All the talk about chemotherapy and his overly-persistent cancer that wouldn't take a hint, he was steadfast, determined, unflinching, even mocking. But talking virtually a private joke with his daughters, and their future husbands, was enough to stop him short.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, later several deep breaths.

"I guess this would exist ane of those F U moments," I offered.

He laughed very hard. A deep, guttural laugh that comes out when yous need it the most. "That's right," he almost yelled. "F U, cancer! I say information technology every day. F U, cancer!"

Cease what you lot're doing correct now and say it with united states of america. "F U, cancer." Put it out in the universe. Say it for Stuart Scott. Say information technology for everyone who'due south struggling with this affliction. Tell 'em what yous really call back. F U, cancer. Fuck yous.

Thank you for the wise words, Mr. Scott. We won't soon forget.

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