Robert Eksuzyan

I remember Robert telling me exactly what to write on one of those winter days when sports desk asked for soccer stories from one of those endless rounds of European matches. Someone was playing someone with a white soccer ball on a snow-covered Moscow pitch. I had no clue what was going on, except that the players found it incredibly hard to stay upright, but Robert excitedly steered me through the story. I wish I could remember who played and who won, but that memory escapes me. ■