Mike Bossy has died. Growing up, my two sports heroes were Carlton Fisk in baseball and Bossy in hockey. Bossy is first all time in goals-per-game--think about that, and spare me protestations of the era he played in; first is first--and third in points-per-game. His productivity and consistency inspired me in both my life and art. I remember being scared of the dark as a kid and sleeping in a sleeping bag in the room off of the one where my parents would be watching television. One of those times was when I was seven, during the final game of the Wales Conference championship between the Islanders and the Bruins, and Bossy just kept scoring. That's when I really got into him, and I wasn't even watching him play. The announcer just kept saying, "And Bossy scores again!" and that name became something demonstrative, like this will that was imposed. He scored four goals in that game, with three coming in the second period in less than ten minutes. I felt a little bad for the Bruins, my hometown team. Bossy could pick the corner on God, with a release faster than a cobra's bite. I am sad. Gone far too soon.