Brushing Greatness

A few weeks ago Randy Steele put forth the idea of people recounting their brushes with fame, and you can read about some of them here and here. And as long as we're all being nostalgic, I thought I might as well toss in my two cents as well. So here goes:

October 1986: I was in the sixth grade and my family was visiting my uncle in NYC. It was right smack dab in the middle of the Mets - Red Sox World Series, and my uncle, an NYC cop, lived in Flushing, Queens, literally a couple of blocks from Shea Stadium. (At the time, it seemed like the coolest place in the world, but I was at Shea for a Mets - Red Sox game in 2001 and yeah, it ain't that cool.)

Like all country bumpkins, my family was bumbling around Manhattan doing the tourist thing when my uncle spotted Mets manager Davey Johnson going into a Saks Fifth Avenue. We followed him in and I ended up getting his autograph. I have three memories from that encounter. One, I remember thinking, "Now that's a moustache." Two, I have a vivid recollection of Johnson pulling out the biggest wad of cash I'd ever seen to pay for a couple of suits. Three, before we left, my uncle, a Mets fan, implored Johnson to start Mookie Wilson over Lenny Dysktra.

1989: My dad was big on vacations. At least the planning part. Inevitably, we'd get somewhere and all hell would break loose -- either intra-family or as a consequence of some "Planes, Trains & Automobiles" type fiasco. Anyway, in 1989 we spent maybe one of the longest weeks of my life in sunny California. On the way back, we had a layover in Dallas and while waiting for our connecting flight, my dad spotted Dennis Rodman walking through the airport. He ended up following him into a bathroom and getting his autograph. The thing is, this was before Rodman went completely nuts (in retrospect, that was probably one of the most benign fan-seeks-autograph situations given how things eventually turned out). He had his God-given hair color, and was wearing normal people clothing. Which makes the fact that my dad recognized him even more incredible since his sports-watching mainly consisted of the six o'clock local news.

1991-1994: I hesitate to even mention this but hey, if I can't make fun of myself, who can I make fun of? Anyway, I played college baseball my freshman through junior years, and when I say "play" I mean chase foul balls during batting practice and paint the bases in preparation for games. And I'm only half-kidding. (I say half-kidding because it's hard to hold the record for "most strikeouts in a doubleheader" if you don't ever see the field, but I digress.)

During my little stint as a mediocre athlete, I did get to play against guys like Sean Casey, Wayne Gomes and Pat Watkins. One of my favorite Casey memories was watching him hit a moon shot off my buddy during some random, probably meaningless, conference game. I can't overstate how far that ball traveled. Seriously, he hit it in 1994 and it just landed ten minutes ago.

I'm guessing everybody here is familiar with Casey, but Gomes was a closer from Old Dominion who threw 96 mph. My only near-encounter with Gomes came my freshman season. We were playing at ODU and it was the 9th inning, two outs and I was on deck. Our catcher, who wasn't known for his bat (or his glove for that matter, but that's a different story), might as well have gotten in the batters box sans bat. Gomes threw a fastball that you could hear from the on deck circle. Just to be a jerk, he then threw an 89 mph slider. To say it buckled the batters' knees would be an understatement -- he looked like he was trying to avoid multiple bee stings. Gomes ended things with another heater, which thankfully, meant I didn't have to waste everybody's time by going up there and pretending I was going to make contact.

Pat Watkins was an outfielder from East Carolina who was also on my American Legion team in high school. He ended up being a first round pick of the Reds, but his major league career didn't last very long. Still, the nicest guy in the world.

I also went to college with Darren Sharper and Mike Tomlin, two guys I didn't know well, but hey, they're both semi-famous so I'm counting them. Which leads me to my all-time favorite encounter ...

1993 or thereabouts: One of my high school buddies went to UNC and I would usually head to Chapel Hill a couple of times a year to hang out. Anyway, it was one weekend night and we were stumbling back to his apartment obviously inebriated and we happened to literally bump into Mia Hamm. She was at UNC at the time and she and one of her teammates (Kerri Sanchez, I think) were rollerblading around the complex. Did I mention it was after midnight on a weekend? At the time, Hamm was either dating or engaged to a Marine so maybe that had something to do with it. Whatever. I immediately recognized her (because who didn't know the UNC Women's Soccer Team roster during the early-to-mid-90s?) and here's how our conversation went:

Me: (slightly slurring my words while giggling): "Hey, you're Mia Hamm!"

Mia Hamm: "Yes." (Hamm and Sanchez skate off)

Yep, I've always had a way with the ladies. To say she was unimpressed with me wouldn't begin to do this awkward situation justice. Either way, I'm sure it's an encounter Hamm didn't soon forget. Plus, 12 years later I'm still telling that dopey story. My buddy told me Eric Montross also lived in his apartment complex, although I never saw him on rollerblades.

Okay, that's all I got -- maybe the most unimpressive list ever assembled. I figure meeting Mark Madden or Skip Bayless will change all of that, however. I need to go put that on my "To-Do" list.