A Moment of Greatness...
The sun was setting low to the west, easily enveloping the surrounding buildings and sidewalks with the radiating warmth reflecting the end of a long, hot summer’s day. With my tie undone and my body moving in pace of the day behind me, I casually strolled to the parking garage making ready for my daily trek back to Connecticut where my ‘home life’ would begin two hours later. I truly enjoyed the commute and looked forward to the drive each day. The summer traffic was usually lighter by then where my mind was free to ponder the events of the day.
On this particular day my routine was unexpectedly interrupted as I witnessed a large dark colored SUV (this was back in ‘89 when SUV’s were a relative rarity) pull up in front of the only exotic car dealership on this side of Manhattan. My eyes were drawn to the occupant in the rear of the vehicle because the passenger seated in the front appeared to trip over himself scrambling to open the rear door (like the way one does for someone they’re in service to). I watched this spectacle unfold as about three or four large sized men exited the vehicle. Much to my surprise, the last man out was smaller in stature yet somehow much broader than the rest. I squinted as I stared at this troupe of men and slowly recognized the smaller man as one of the world’s most famous sports figure. Right here, across my path, passed the shadow of the greatest; no, fiercest warrior ever to enter the boxing ring. The choice was simple enough. Stand by and do nothing or become engaged and risk possible failure. Well, there was another option…
I immediately started to lay out the mental logistics of my approach. I just had to figure out a way to meet him. Maybe get his autograph before he finished his business here, climbed back into his SUV and drive off into the sunset, disappearing out of my life forever. I searched my pockets frantically, only to realize I didn’t even have a single scrap of paper or anything else for that matter, for him to sign.
Everyday, people everywhere are faced with the opportunity to achieve something…to be a part of something bigger than they, themselves can even understand. Sometimes, its just life…sometimes, its life offering you a leg up and the cumulative actions of your being suddenly are dictated by a singular decision aided by the kind of timing only Providence could foresee and provide. This day was such a day.
I was certainly too intimidated to approach on my own and the destination of this entourage appeared to be the inside of the Kessler Motor Car showroom. He crossed within a few feet of me, stopped and glanced in my direction (with that trademark vacant, frozen gaze that made far greater men shake in their boots). He looked up and our eyes met. I found myself suddenly face to face with a man who made me feel incredibly small even though my 6’3” frame towered over him. He sized me up in the exact same way millions of fans had witnessed him sizing up a long line of challengers along his short but incredible career. I nervously smiled, then nodded my head with apprehensive recognition and quickly looked away. I was suddenly aware of my genuine awkwardness while making contact with this reigning king.
The door of the dealership opened and he quickly disappeared inside. He moved with an air of cool confidence that was noticeably lacking in all the others. Through the large glass panes I witnessed the same bumbling response he fostered in those around him as I watched those inside now stumbling around to anticipate his every need.
I had to think and move quickly. Streams of sweat began to trickle down my back. Since I wasn’t sure how long he’d be in the dealership, there was no time to lose. If I stayed, I still didn’t have anything for him to write on…if I left to get some paper, he might finish his business there and leave before I’d return.
I looked once more through the glass at the spectacle of movement inside, when my eyes suddenly focused on the reflection of a small group of three young boys gathered behind me across the street. With out hesitation I turned to face them. I called out while waving my hand motioning them to my side of the street. The urgency of my voice compelled them to move quickly over to me. I hastily gathered my new recruits around me. They looked about the ages of anywhere from eight to twelve years old. Decidedly young, but I’d have to make do with what I had. I went immediately into action barking my questions.
“Hey, did you guys see who just went inside there?” I demanded.
“No”, they answered sheepishly.
“Do you know who Michael Tyson is?” Suddenly, I had their full attention.
Then I asked, “Do any of you have any paper on you?”
The pressure was mounting. Again the answer was “No”. My new friends waited to see if I would give up or lead them towards a solution. My mind raced, weighing through the few options available in such short notice. Finally, I opened my mouth and barked again.
“Listen, you guys need to run down to that store around the corner, get a piece of paper, brown paper bag…anything so you guys can get his autograph. I’ll stay here and delay him in case he comes out before you get back. And…and don’t forget a pen…now GO!!!”
And miraculously, off they ran…excitedly yelling, urging each other on. They made quite the ruckus, even as they turned the corner out of sight.
Time was ticking away and my pulse was pounding. My body now dripped with perspiration. Questions crammed my mind “Are you crazy? How exactly does one delay a boxer without getting hurt? How are you going to get past his bodyguards? What’s the correct protocol for approaching Michael Tyson in public? What if he just ignores you? What if those boys don’t get here in time? What if they just ran away laughing about that crazy tall white guy in front of the Ferrari Dealership?”
I looked up in time to notice the parade inside beginning to materialize once again and Michael Tyson was slowly making his way across the showroom floor. Frantically, I looked up the street where I last saw my little friends turn the corner only to see an empty sidewalk. He was shaking hands with everyone it seemed…good this slowed his progress to a crawl. Someone else got a camera out and a flash bulb went off blinding everyone in the room. The seconds ticked by.
Where are those kids? What was I thinking? I should’ve known better than to trust little kids. They’ve been gone forever. Why aren’t they back by now?
Time is the great pressure cooker of fear. The longer it goes on, the greater fear becomes. Without relief it’ll burst into panic. At this time, I worked very hard to fight down the spears of fear which were fighting to overtake me.
Again I searched up the street for any signs of my young friends. Again I was disappointed with the silence of an empty sidewalk. Why did I promise to delay him? Why did I park so far from work? What if I just kept walking and forgot the whole darn thing?
The sound of a door scrapping along an aluminum frame broke me from the maze of questions racing around my head. The posse was leaving the showroom and Michael was last in line. As I stepped forward, I heard the sound of footsteps and laughter running up behind me. My little partners were back, each holding a piece of torn off brown paper bag. One of them grasped a pen in his hand. Well, they held up their end of the bargain, now it was time for me to step up to the plate.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tyson!” I called out…my voice betraying the calm I so disparately wanted to portray.
The whole group froze in their tracks waiting to see what he would do. He turned and without a word walked right up to me. As he approached my little friends shrank back behind me…using my body to shield them.
I continued this time with a shade more confidence”My friends and I were wondering if you’d be as so kind to sign a few autographs for us?”
Again he seemed to size me up. My question seemed to hang in that hot summer air for just about two eternities back to back. I’d like to say that he gladly responded and we all went on our merry way. But something else occurred that day which I think has been seldom witnessed by anyone other than those within his immediate circle of friends or family. Michael had been on the world’s stage for a little over five years at that point, fighting to the top eliminating anyone who’s gotten in his way. He’s never backed down …never been stopped. But that day I witnessed a physical change overcome him as he stepped away from his associates and towards this odd blend of fans.
He reached down to the smallest member of my group and smiled…displaying the kind of tenderness almost like a father would towards his son. Time seemed to stand still. He gently took the paper offered to him, squatted down and engaged the boy on his level. Something about that interaction revealed a gentler side of Michael Tyson rarely seen and even more rarely spoken of. He asked the young boy his name. He didn’t rush…he took his time. If I didn’t know better it appeared as if Michael wanted to somehow disappear for a few moments into a world far away from his life…away from the limelight. These children offered him this fleeting relief.
He finished with the first and moved on to the second and then the third of my little friends. When he was finished, they came to their senses and quickly ran away in stunned disbelief of their good fortune. Already, making plans of who’ll be the first to brag that they met the great and one an’ only Mike Tyson that very day!
As he turned to leave, I spoke up once again. “Do you think you have time to sign one more?” I asked before I realized I never got a piece of the brown paper bag for myself. Now I really felt foolish and I could no longer control the redness spreading across my cheeks. Looking at my empty hands he asked me “What do you want me to sign?”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet and anxiously searched among its contents. Finally, I withdrew my emergency stash from its hiding place. It was a hundred dollar bill printed in 1934. “This had been my emergency money for over eight years now and somehow I’ve never used it.” I explained as I handed it over to him. He grinned at me with that famous Tyson grin, slowly shook his head, signed his name across the back of it and handed it back to me.
During this entire exchange, no one from his group moved an inch. It occurred to me that they probably never saw this side of their friend. Looking back now, I sure do wish I had a picture of the faces of those men. Then I did something that made this whole exchange seem so surreal to me. I held out my hand in friendship and we stood there shaking hands like we had just inked a deal for another fight. He smiled once again, walked towards his car, turned to me and said “Just to let you know, those kids got to me…without them you didn’t have a chance”
I still have that bill tucked away, but I don’t carry it around anymore and it lost its emergency stash designation. Recently, I came across it again and realized that somewhere in the city of New York I have three (little) friends who shared a moment of greatness with me. My proof is right here. Their proof would be in the old worn torn piece of brown paper bag with the faded signature which recorded their moment of greatness.
The sun was setting low to the west, easily enveloping the surrounding buildings and sidewalks with the radiating warmth reflecting the end of a long, hot summer’s day. With my tie undone and my body moving in pace of the day behind me, I casually strolled to the parking garage making ready for my daily trek back to Connecticut where my ‘home life’ would begin two hours later. I truly enjoyed the commute and looked forward to the drive each day. The summer traffic was usually lighter by then where my mind was free to ponder the events of the day.
On this particular day my routine was unexpectedly interrupted as I witnessed a large dark colored SUV (this was back in ‘89 when SUV’s were a relative rarity) pull up in front of the only exotic car dealership on this side of Manhattan. My eyes were drawn to the occupant in the rear of the vehicle because the passenger seated in the front appeared to trip over himself scrambling to open the rear door (like the way one does for someone they’re in service to). I watched this spectacle unfold as about three or four large sized men exited the vehicle. Much to my surprise, the last man out was smaller in stature yet somehow much broader than the rest. I squinted as I stared at this troupe of men and slowly recognized the smaller man as one of the world’s most famous sports figure. Right here, across my path, passed the shadow of the greatest; no, fiercest warrior ever to enter the boxing ring. The choice was simple enough. Stand by and do nothing or become engaged and risk possible failure. Well, there was another option…
I immediately started to lay out the mental logistics of my approach. I just had to figure out a way to meet him. Maybe get his autograph before he finished his business here, climbed back into his SUV and drive off into the sunset, disappearing out of my life forever. I searched my pockets frantically, only to realize I didn’t even have a single scrap of paper or anything else for that matter, for him to sign.
Everyday, people everywhere are faced with the opportunity to achieve something…to be a part of something bigger than they, themselves can even understand. Sometimes, its just life…sometimes, its life offering you a leg up and the cumulative actions of your being suddenly are dictated by a singular decision aided by the kind of timing only Providence could foresee and provide. This day was such a day.
I was certainly too intimidated to approach on my own and the destination of this entourage appeared to be the inside of the Kessler Motor Car showroom. He crossed within a few feet of me, stopped and glanced in my direction (with that trademark vacant, frozen gaze that made far greater men shake in their boots). He looked up and our eyes met. I found myself suddenly face to face with a man who made me feel incredibly small even though my 6’3” frame towered over him. He sized me up in the exact same way millions of fans had witnessed him sizing up a long line of challengers along his short but incredible career. I nervously smiled, then nodded my head with apprehensive recognition and quickly looked away. I was suddenly aware of my genuine awkwardness while making contact with this reigning king.
The door of the dealership opened and he quickly disappeared inside. He moved with an air of cool confidence that was noticeably lacking in all the others. Through the large glass panes I witnessed the same bumbling response he fostered in those around him as I watched those inside now stumbling around to anticipate his every need.
I had to think and move quickly. Streams of sweat began to trickle down my back. Since I wasn’t sure how long he’d be in the dealership, there was no time to lose. If I stayed, I still didn’t have anything for him to write on…if I left to get some paper, he might finish his business there and leave before I’d return.
I looked once more through the glass at the spectacle of movement inside, when my eyes suddenly focused on the reflection of a small group of three young boys gathered behind me across the street. With out hesitation I turned to face them. I called out while waving my hand motioning them to my side of the street. The urgency of my voice compelled them to move quickly over to me. I hastily gathered my new recruits around me. They looked about the ages of anywhere from eight to twelve years old. Decidedly young, but I’d have to make do with what I had. I went immediately into action barking my questions.
“Hey, did you guys see who just went inside there?” I demanded.
“No”, they answered sheepishly.
“Do you know who Michael Tyson is?” Suddenly, I had their full attention.
Then I asked, “Do any of you have any paper on you?”
The pressure was mounting. Again the answer was “No”. My new friends waited to see if I would give up or lead them towards a solution. My mind raced, weighing through the few options available in such short notice. Finally, I opened my mouth and barked again.
“Listen, you guys need to run down to that store around the corner, get a piece of paper, brown paper bag…anything so you guys can get his autograph. I’ll stay here and delay him in case he comes out before you get back. And…and don’t forget a pen…now GO!!!”
And miraculously, off they ran…excitedly yelling, urging each other on. They made quite the ruckus, even as they turned the corner out of sight.
Time was ticking away and my pulse was pounding. My body now dripped with perspiration. Questions crammed my mind “Are you crazy? How exactly does one delay a boxer without getting hurt? How are you going to get past his bodyguards? What’s the correct protocol for approaching Michael Tyson in public? What if he just ignores you? What if those boys don’t get here in time? What if they just ran away laughing about that crazy tall white guy in front of the Ferrari Dealership?”
I looked up in time to notice the parade inside beginning to materialize once again and Michael Tyson was slowly making his way across the showroom floor. Frantically, I looked up the street where I last saw my little friends turn the corner only to see an empty sidewalk. He was shaking hands with everyone it seemed…good this slowed his progress to a crawl. Someone else got a camera out and a flash bulb went off blinding everyone in the room. The seconds ticked by.
Where are those kids? What was I thinking? I should’ve known better than to trust little kids. They’ve been gone forever. Why aren’t they back by now?
Time is the great pressure cooker of fear. The longer it goes on, the greater fear becomes. Without relief it’ll burst into panic. At this time, I worked very hard to fight down the spears of fear which were fighting to overtake me.
Again I searched up the street for any signs of my young friends. Again I was disappointed with the silence of an empty sidewalk. Why did I promise to delay him? Why did I park so far from work? What if I just kept walking and forgot the whole darn thing?
The sound of a door scrapping along an aluminum frame broke me from the maze of questions racing around my head. The posse was leaving the showroom and Michael was last in line. As I stepped forward, I heard the sound of footsteps and laughter running up behind me. My little partners were back, each holding a piece of torn off brown paper bag. One of them grasped a pen in his hand. Well, they held up their end of the bargain, now it was time for me to step up to the plate.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tyson!” I called out…my voice betraying the calm I so disparately wanted to portray.
The whole group froze in their tracks waiting to see what he would do. He turned and without a word walked right up to me. As he approached my little friends shrank back behind me…using my body to shield them.
I continued this time with a shade more confidence”My friends and I were wondering if you’d be as so kind to sign a few autographs for us?”
Again he seemed to size me up. My question seemed to hang in that hot summer air for just about two eternities back to back. I’d like to say that he gladly responded and we all went on our merry way. But something else occurred that day which I think has been seldom witnessed by anyone other than those within his immediate circle of friends or family. Michael had been on the world’s stage for a little over five years at that point, fighting to the top eliminating anyone who’s gotten in his way. He’s never backed down …never been stopped. But that day I witnessed a physical change overcome him as he stepped away from his associates and towards this odd blend of fans.
He reached down to the smallest member of my group and smiled…displaying the kind of tenderness almost like a father would towards his son. Time seemed to stand still. He gently took the paper offered to him, squatted down and engaged the boy on his level. Something about that interaction revealed a gentler side of Michael Tyson rarely seen and even more rarely spoken of. He asked the young boy his name. He didn’t rush…he took his time. If I didn’t know better it appeared as if Michael wanted to somehow disappear for a few moments into a world far away from his life…away from the limelight. These children offered him this fleeting relief.
He finished with the first and moved on to the second and then the third of my little friends. When he was finished, they came to their senses and quickly ran away in stunned disbelief of their good fortune. Already, making plans of who’ll be the first to brag that they met the great and one an’ only Mike Tyson that very day!
As he turned to leave, I spoke up once again. “Do you think you have time to sign one more?” I asked before I realized I never got a piece of the brown paper bag for myself. Now I really felt foolish and I could no longer control the redness spreading across my cheeks. Looking at my empty hands he asked me “What do you want me to sign?”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet and anxiously searched among its contents. Finally, I withdrew my emergency stash from its hiding place. It was a hundred dollar bill printed in 1934. “This had been my emergency money for over eight years now and somehow I’ve never used it.” I explained as I handed it over to him. He grinned at me with that famous Tyson grin, slowly shook his head, signed his name across the back of it and handed it back to me.
During this entire exchange, no one from his group moved an inch. It occurred to me that they probably never saw this side of their friend. Looking back now, I sure do wish I had a picture of the faces of those men. Then I did something that made this whole exchange seem so surreal to me. I held out my hand in friendship and we stood there shaking hands like we had just inked a deal for another fight. He smiled once again, walked towards his car, turned to me and said “Just to let you know, those kids got to me…without them you didn’t have a chance”
I still have that bill tucked away, but I don’t carry it around anymore and it lost its emergency stash designation. Recently, I came across it again and realized that somewhere in the city of New York I have three (little) friends who shared a moment of greatness with me. My proof is right here. Their proof would be in the old worn torn piece of brown paper bag with the faded signature which recorded their moment of greatness.