The wind beneath his wings: I've been lucky enough to have to watch "American Idol" and report on it since Murray singing sensation David Archuleta started getting attention. So, since sometime last year, I think.

No matter how hard I try to keep my emotions in, I end up crying every time he sings. Even when I watch his performances again and again on YouTube. Lately, I've been watching him sing "Imagine" every morning. It inspires me.

Archuleta is quite obviously the greatest singer in the history of the state. Remember Donny Osmond? Nobody will after Archuleta tears up the globe in the next few years. If you thought The Beatles were famous, just give Archie a few years.

Which reminds me, remember when he came to Salt Lake City to tape that homecoming segment for "Idol?" You can bet I was there. Front row. Screaming. Weeping. Rending my clothing. Screaming again. Fainting. Coming to and weeping some more. Elbowing past security to get Archuleta to sign my cell phone. It was all I had on me. And if you think I'm selling it on eBay, you're crazy. Not worth any price.

And I'm not selling my tickets, either. I got up early last week to go stand in line for tickets to the "Idol" tour coming to the E Center in West Valley City. Those babies are in a sealed envelope I've hidden somewhere near the photo of Archuleta that hangs above my nightstand.

I've been a wreck all week wondering if my boy will win. By the time this prints, I will have called in sick, probably, and will be pacing around my house waiting for 9/8 Central. Which means 8 p.m. Mountain Time, for some reason.

It all adds up to a crazy year, or whatever, for me. In fact, I'm working on a book about my experiences following him on the show, called "David Archuleta: Light of my Life."

-- Logan Molyneux