Back in the 1950's, when I was a wee sprite, my father, who was an executive at GE, had a report who had been an All American at Northwestern and had roomed with the NY football Giants center, Ray Witeka. A plot for a surprise birthday present for yours truly was hatched and I soon found myself at the old Polo Grounds cheering the Giants on against the 49'ers. About 5 minutes before the game ended and the Giants pulled out a cliff hanger, my Dad suggested we move down to the sidelines. In a blur, I did so, and soon I was standing next to giant men, trying not to breath. The game ended and we moved towards the center of the field to meet Ray. He asked me if I wanted to carry his helmet to the locker room. I could only nod in gratitude.
The locker room was a scene of happy chaos. Moving among these titans, I quietly went around seeking autographs. All were very pleasant and encouraging, and I snagged autographs of my gridiron heroes, Frank Gifford, Kyle Rote, Charley Connerly et al. I was doing pretty well until Rosy Greer came out of the shower in all his glory. I had never seen a naked man so large and powerful, but he happily signed my program and gave me a wet pat on the head.
The program is long gone, but I still have the vivid memory of that surreal experience logged forever.
'Say hey, what Willie? I once set up near the autograph tables and heard Mays berate a young boy for daring to ask a question. The lad's dad turned purple and I thought was going to pop Willie one. 'Nuff said.
|