I saw Jerry Rice at my health club last week.
We made eye contact in the locker room and I said "hi" but nothing
more. I settled in for my 50 minutes on the machine that I don't know
the name of and I noticed that Jerry was chatting with someone. A few
minutes later he was chatting with someone else and then someone else.
He was always laughing and smiling as we "worked" the room. I did see
him on the treadmill for a minute or two, but I did not see his world
famous workout ethic.
As I studied
the superstar I was taken by how skinny his legs are. I visualized
myself charging the future hall of famer and dropping him right there at
the club. In my mind, he never had a chance as I wrapped my powerful
arms around his knees and brought him down. Now that would be something
to tell my grandchildren about (Except maybe for the fact that I would
have to serve some jail time).
That night at dinner, of course, I managed to turn my brief Jerry Rice
encounter into an extended story. My boys, who not yet bored by my
stories, hung on my every word. At the end, they wanted to know why I
didn't go up and talk to him?
I didn't have a good answer. Growing up in Southern California, one
learned to give celebrities their space and I guess I thought that it
was polite not to talk to Jerry. My boys thought differently.
Later that week in the same locker room an older rotund black gentleman
was changing. It turned out that my locker was close to his and while it
is usually inappropriate to "chat" while toweling off, I remembered that
boys had chastised me for not being more social. When the older man
donned a well worn Oakland Raiders shirt with a big number 80 and RICE
written on the back I decided to socialize.
"You should have been here the other day," I said.
"Huh?"
"The owner of your shirt was here at the club," I clarified
"You mean Jerry?" he said.
"Yes"
"I see lots of him, he's my son-in-law," he said.
So I quickly determined that this would be the last time I struck up a
conversation with someone in the locker room. I went on to cover my
embarrassment with a few questions about Jerry including "is he playing
next year?" I knew the answer was "he doesn't know," but for some reason
I felt obliged to ask a dumb question. He was very nice and told me that
he would like to play one more year and, in fact, that he had received a
call from John Gruden (Tampa Bay) the previous day.
You can bet that this encounter was the topic of the dinner
conversation. Eve said that there was no reason to be embarrassed. Both
boys thought it was highly embarrassing. I'm minding my own business
from now on.
Regards,
