Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
If You Could Read My Mind....
18 followers and growing! I appreciate it, and if you enjoy the blog tell your friends and let's make this thing grow! I have many, many more stories to tell, so I think we will be in business for awhile.
Here is a brief story about singer/songwriter Gordon Lightfoot. And as always, your comments and reactions are appreciated.
GORDON LIGHTFOOT
On a snowy winter night during the 1977-78 season, the Memphis State University basketball team shuffled into the old Kiel Auditorium in St. Louis, Missouri to play the St. Louis Billikens in a division one NCAA Metro conference game. This place was a mausoleum, really archaic. But it was rich with history having been built in 1934, and was the home of the old St. Louis Hawks of the NBA, and had hosted several NBA All Star games.
It was the norm for the team to get to the arena quite a bit before game time to get dressed, taped, stretch, and go through the normal pre game warm up routine. Normally only a few die hard fans were there on our arrival since the tip off was about two hours away. I mentioned to my teammate John Kilzer that the parking lot was unusually crowded when we got there, and he mentioned he had heard there was a concert at the arena this night. “A concert”, I said quizzically, “How can there be a concert on the night we are playing a game?” He informed me that Kiel was split into two parts and could house both events simultaneously. “Who is performing?” I inquired. “Gordon Lightfoot, I think”, was his reply.
Gordon Lightfoot was a native Canadian and folk singer who had a string of hits starting in 1970 with his classic “If You Could Read My Mind”. He followed that up with other hits like “Sundown”, “Carefree Highway”, and my personal favorite, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. He was truly a balladeer and his songs always told an interesting story. I was a big fan and excited to hear he was in town.
So the team is dressed and lined up in the staging area waiting to go onto the court, when Kilzer and I notice that we are also sharing the backstage area of the concert arena. We poke our head out the stage curtain, and see the place is packed with excited fans. “Wow”, John says, “I think there are more people in here than to see our game”, which didn’t surprise me since the St. Louis University program at the time wasn’t having much success. We are both acting like a couple of kids when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Good crowd tonight?” was the question the stranger asked me. I turned around to reply, and I’m standing face to face with Gordon Lightfoot himself. “What song do you think I should start with?” he asks. “Do you have a favorite?” I was stammering and blubbering trying to think of a witty reply when he erupted with a big laugh and extended his hand. As I shook it, I noticed something strange. He had the longest fingernails I had ever seen on a man. Kilzer, being a musician himself, explained to me that it is common for acoustic guitar players to grow them long so they can pluck the strings. We quickly said our goodbyes, wished each other well on our respective performances, and hustled off to do our business.
I don’t remember the outcome of that game, but we were the better team and finished the regular season 20-6, so I’m pretty sure we won. I didn’t get to play much, and I can remember sitting there on bench sorry that I wasn’t on the other side of the arena listening to Gordon Lightfoot.
One final note; my ex teammate John Kilzer went on to a recording career himself playing and singing Bob Dylan type music, and had quite a following in the south. He never really made it to the big time however, and quit to become a preacher in Tennessee. Gordon Lightfoot, who has been nominated for five Grammy awards, is still playing and singing his unique brand of music. Hopefully he has the entire arena all to himself.
Here is a brief story about singer/songwriter Gordon Lightfoot. And as always, your comments and reactions are appreciated.
GORDON LIGHTFOOT
On a snowy winter night during the 1977-78 season, the Memphis State University basketball team shuffled into the old Kiel Auditorium in St. Louis, Missouri to play the St. Louis Billikens in a division one NCAA Metro conference game. This place was a mausoleum, really archaic. But it was rich with history having been built in 1934, and was the home of the old St. Louis Hawks of the NBA, and had hosted several NBA All Star games.
It was the norm for the team to get to the arena quite a bit before game time to get dressed, taped, stretch, and go through the normal pre game warm up routine. Normally only a few die hard fans were there on our arrival since the tip off was about two hours away. I mentioned to my teammate John Kilzer that the parking lot was unusually crowded when we got there, and he mentioned he had heard there was a concert at the arena this night. “A concert”, I said quizzically, “How can there be a concert on the night we are playing a game?” He informed me that Kiel was split into two parts and could house both events simultaneously. “Who is performing?” I inquired. “Gordon Lightfoot, I think”, was his reply.
Gordon Lightfoot was a native Canadian and folk singer who had a string of hits starting in 1970 with his classic “If You Could Read My Mind”. He followed that up with other hits like “Sundown”, “Carefree Highway”, and my personal favorite, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. He was truly a balladeer and his songs always told an interesting story. I was a big fan and excited to hear he was in town.
So the team is dressed and lined up in the staging area waiting to go onto the court, when Kilzer and I notice that we are also sharing the backstage area of the concert arena. We poke our head out the stage curtain, and see the place is packed with excited fans. “Wow”, John says, “I think there are more people in here than to see our game”, which didn’t surprise me since the St. Louis University program at the time wasn’t having much success. We are both acting like a couple of kids when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Good crowd tonight?” was the question the stranger asked me. I turned around to reply, and I’m standing face to face with Gordon Lightfoot himself. “What song do you think I should start with?” he asks. “Do you have a favorite?” I was stammering and blubbering trying to think of a witty reply when he erupted with a big laugh and extended his hand. As I shook it, I noticed something strange. He had the longest fingernails I had ever seen on a man. Kilzer, being a musician himself, explained to me that it is common for acoustic guitar players to grow them long so they can pluck the strings. We quickly said our goodbyes, wished each other well on our respective performances, and hustled off to do our business.
I don’t remember the outcome of that game, but we were the better team and finished the regular season 20-6, so I’m pretty sure we won. I didn’t get to play much, and I can remember sitting there on bench sorry that I wasn’t on the other side of the arena listening to Gordon Lightfoot.
One final note; my ex teammate John Kilzer went on to a recording career himself playing and singing Bob Dylan type music, and had quite a following in the south. He never really made it to the big time however, and quit to become a preacher in Tennessee. Gordon Lightfoot, who has been nominated for five Grammy awards, is still playing and singing his unique brand of music. Hopefully he has the entire arena all to himself.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Growing...
15 followers...not bad!
Great stories in the works.....Gordon Lightfoot, Joe Torre, Charles Barkley..and many others.
Please pass the address to anyone you think might be interested...and thanks for reading!
Ken
Great stories in the works.....Gordon Lightfoot, Joe Torre, Charles Barkley..and many others.
Please pass the address to anyone you think might be interested...and thanks for reading!
Ken
Monday, August 24, 2009
Update
After receiving multiple emails, phone calls, and text messages regarding the blog, I am hopeful most of you are enjoying it. There should be an average of 3-4 new stories per week.
So many left to tell.....keep the comments coming.
Thanks, Ken
So many left to tell.....keep the comments coming.
Thanks, Ken
Thursday, August 20, 2009
On Deck
Thanks for all the positive feedback....
John Travolta, Johnny Unitas, Bryant Gumbel, Jack Kemp....all in the near future.
Please keep reading......Ken
John Travolta, Johnny Unitas, Bryant Gumbel, Jack Kemp....all in the near future.
Please keep reading......Ken
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Thanks for the feedback
Thanks for the feedback on my Hulk Hogan story.
If it wasn't clear....Hulk's real name is Terry Bollea. He used the name Terry Boulder while wrestling in Memphis, and then changed it to Hulk Hogan after being on a talk show with Lou Ferrigno who played "The Incredible Hulk". Terry also wrestled under the name Sterling Golden for a brief period of time.
Next story soon to follow.....Ken
If it wasn't clear....Hulk's real name is Terry Bollea. He used the name Terry Boulder while wrestling in Memphis, and then changed it to Hulk Hogan after being on a talk show with Lou Ferrigno who played "The Incredible Hulk". Terry also wrestled under the name Sterling Golden for a brief period of time.
Next story soon to follow.....Ken
Monday, August 17, 2009
Back to Work
Hope everyone had a great weekend.
I guess some of you are enjoying the blog. I was actually getting email and texts asking for more stories...but I took the weekend off!
I do think you will enjoy today's entry about wrasslin superstar Hulk Hogan. And don't forget the comments!
Ken
HULK HOGAN
The summer of 1978 was a good one. I was working as stage security for Mid-South Concerts in Memphis where music has legendary roots. From Elvis to the blues to Jerry Lee Lewis, it is a large part of the cities history and culture. All the shows were at the Mid South Coliseum, a place I knew well since it served as our home court for the Memphis State University Tigers basketball games. All the big touring acts had Memphis as a stop. I can remember seeing Heart, The Eagles, Bad Company, Kansas, The Cars, Jackson Brown, and many other great sounds of the era. It was such a cool job.
Working stage security was a piece of cake. The promoters loved having the Memphis athletes as security for several reasons. For one, we are rather large and served as a deterrent to some of the rowdy fans. For two, Memphis at that time has no pro sports, so we were actually big celebrities in the city, which added to the buzz of the concert when the people saw our recognizable faces at the show. They never gave us the bad jobs either. We were always situated to the side where we could sit near the stage and watch the performance. I always felt bad for the guys in front of the stage. They had their ears blasted by the amps, and had their back to the show the entire time. And when there was a rush of fans toward the talent, I’m sure it looked like a tidal wave of humanity coming towards them.
After the show, the promoters had no problem with us hanging around backstage. This was advantageous for a couple of reasons. We could get a glimpse of the musicians, and catch sight of the female groupies following the musicians. Keeping with the PG theme of the blog, I won’t go into great deal about some of the activities I witnessed going on here, but just let me say that the sex, drugs, and rock and roll theme of the era was very, very true.
There were also levels to the backstage areas. The immediate area was pretty much open to anyone with a badge. There was not much going on here other than the engineers, techs, and roadies breaking down the set for the next show. Then there was the intermediate area where band members would actually take some photos, greet some fans, and make their “appointments” with pretty girls for that night, the next show, or the next time they were in town. Then the ultra exclusive area was the talent dressing room area. This was ultra exclusive with no access permitted to ANYONE that wasn’t a member of the group or close entourage… except for us, of course.
I was a big fan of Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart. Actually, to this day I think it was the best live musical performance I have ever seen. Ann had incredible vocal range, and Nancy could wail on the guitar about as good as any guy. So my security buddy and I decided to venture towards the “forbidden catacombs” of the dressing room. We got to the final door when a figure emerged from the shadows. This figure looked to be about 6’8” and about 300 pounds. He was one LARGE hurdle to jump to get to see the Wilson sisters.
Back around this time WMC-TV in Memphis had a live local professional “wrestling” show every weekend. I put “wrestling” in quotation marks because it is undeniably orchestrated and should go under the heading of theater rather than sport. I will write about “Dirty Dusty Rhoads” in another blog to follow, so stay tuned.
There was a brother act in the show featuring Terry and Eddie Boulder. It was comical because it was basically the same scenario every week. Eddie was a slightly built guy who would take on the local champ (ala a Jerry “The King” Lawler), get the tar beat out of him, and then his massive brother Terry would jump in the studio ring to save him from certain death, or at least massive injuries. I wasn’t a huge devotee of the program, but I did watch occasionally and the theme seemed to repeat itself over and over and over, with only Eddie’s opponent changing.
As I approached the figure at the dressing room door, the light hit his face and I immediately recognized him as Terry Boulder. “Hey, you’re the wrestler” I said to him. “And you’re the basketball player that never seems to get on the court”, he replied. We were both correct. “Can I get in to see the sisters?” I asked. “No can do my friend” was his answer. “But I can crack the door and give you a peek”. I took him up on his offer, and actually caught Nancy Wilson blow drying her hair. I stared for as long as I could before his benevolence ended and the door closed.
We chatted for a few minutes about wrestling and basketball. He was kind of quiet, but actually a pretty nice guy. He had this “tiger eye” ring he let me try on. Keep in mind that my ring size is 14 and his ring was spinning around my finger with plenty of space to fill. This indeed was one large human.
As I understand it, soon after this Sylvester Stallone was traveling through Memphis and caught Terry’s act on TV. He then went down to the studio to meet him, and found he was just what he was looking for to cast in his next sequel Rocky III. Obviously Terry parlayed that into mega success and the WWF championship, and remains in the public eye today. I often wondered what he did with the $20 a night we got for working stage security. He probably bought razor blades to tuck into his wristbands.
I guess some of you are enjoying the blog. I was actually getting email and texts asking for more stories...but I took the weekend off!
I do think you will enjoy today's entry about wrasslin superstar Hulk Hogan. And don't forget the comments!
Ken
HULK HOGAN
The summer of 1978 was a good one. I was working as stage security for Mid-South Concerts in Memphis where music has legendary roots. From Elvis to the blues to Jerry Lee Lewis, it is a large part of the cities history and culture. All the shows were at the Mid South Coliseum, a place I knew well since it served as our home court for the Memphis State University Tigers basketball games. All the big touring acts had Memphis as a stop. I can remember seeing Heart, The Eagles, Bad Company, Kansas, The Cars, Jackson Brown, and many other great sounds of the era. It was such a cool job.
Working stage security was a piece of cake. The promoters loved having the Memphis athletes as security for several reasons. For one, we are rather large and served as a deterrent to some of the rowdy fans. For two, Memphis at that time has no pro sports, so we were actually big celebrities in the city, which added to the buzz of the concert when the people saw our recognizable faces at the show. They never gave us the bad jobs either. We were always situated to the side where we could sit near the stage and watch the performance. I always felt bad for the guys in front of the stage. They had their ears blasted by the amps, and had their back to the show the entire time. And when there was a rush of fans toward the talent, I’m sure it looked like a tidal wave of humanity coming towards them.
After the show, the promoters had no problem with us hanging around backstage. This was advantageous for a couple of reasons. We could get a glimpse of the musicians, and catch sight of the female groupies following the musicians. Keeping with the PG theme of the blog, I won’t go into great deal about some of the activities I witnessed going on here, but just let me say that the sex, drugs, and rock and roll theme of the era was very, very true.
There were also levels to the backstage areas. The immediate area was pretty much open to anyone with a badge. There was not much going on here other than the engineers, techs, and roadies breaking down the set for the next show. Then there was the intermediate area where band members would actually take some photos, greet some fans, and make their “appointments” with pretty girls for that night, the next show, or the next time they were in town. Then the ultra exclusive area was the talent dressing room area. This was ultra exclusive with no access permitted to ANYONE that wasn’t a member of the group or close entourage… except for us, of course.
I was a big fan of Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart. Actually, to this day I think it was the best live musical performance I have ever seen. Ann had incredible vocal range, and Nancy could wail on the guitar about as good as any guy. So my security buddy and I decided to venture towards the “forbidden catacombs” of the dressing room. We got to the final door when a figure emerged from the shadows. This figure looked to be about 6’8” and about 300 pounds. He was one LARGE hurdle to jump to get to see the Wilson sisters.
Back around this time WMC-TV in Memphis had a live local professional “wrestling” show every weekend. I put “wrestling” in quotation marks because it is undeniably orchestrated and should go under the heading of theater rather than sport. I will write about “Dirty Dusty Rhoads” in another blog to follow, so stay tuned.
There was a brother act in the show featuring Terry and Eddie Boulder. It was comical because it was basically the same scenario every week. Eddie was a slightly built guy who would take on the local champ (ala a Jerry “The King” Lawler), get the tar beat out of him, and then his massive brother Terry would jump in the studio ring to save him from certain death, or at least massive injuries. I wasn’t a huge devotee of the program, but I did watch occasionally and the theme seemed to repeat itself over and over and over, with only Eddie’s opponent changing.
As I approached the figure at the dressing room door, the light hit his face and I immediately recognized him as Terry Boulder. “Hey, you’re the wrestler” I said to him. “And you’re the basketball player that never seems to get on the court”, he replied. We were both correct. “Can I get in to see the sisters?” I asked. “No can do my friend” was his answer. “But I can crack the door and give you a peek”. I took him up on his offer, and actually caught Nancy Wilson blow drying her hair. I stared for as long as I could before his benevolence ended and the door closed.
We chatted for a few minutes about wrestling and basketball. He was kind of quiet, but actually a pretty nice guy. He had this “tiger eye” ring he let me try on. Keep in mind that my ring size is 14 and his ring was spinning around my finger with plenty of space to fill. This indeed was one large human.
As I understand it, soon after this Sylvester Stallone was traveling through Memphis and caught Terry’s act on TV. He then went down to the studio to meet him, and found he was just what he was looking for to cast in his next sequel Rocky III. Obviously Terry parlayed that into mega success and the WWF championship, and remains in the public eye today. I often wondered what he did with the $20 a night we got for working stage security. He probably bought razor blades to tuck into his wristbands.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Recap
Hope everyone enjoyed this week's entries.
In the weeks to follow, look for more true stories including the likes of Don Rickles, Hulk Hogan, Vince Lombardi, Mike Tyson, Tommy Lasorda, and many others.
Keep the comments and emails coming....have a great weekend!
Ken
In the weeks to follow, look for more true stories including the likes of Don Rickles, Hulk Hogan, Vince Lombardi, Mike Tyson, Tommy Lasorda, and many others.
Keep the comments and emails coming....have a great weekend!
Ken
Monday, August 10, 2009
First Entry
Welcome to my blog!
Some of you may know that I played professional football from 1980 to 1985, officially retiring in 1987. Retiring in my case is a nice way of saying no one was interested in my services any longer. Regardless, I played four full seasons and made it to the league final game all 4 years ( 1 Super Bowl, 3 USFL Championship games). I tried to market myself as a good luck charm to several general managers, but with no success.
During those years, and even before, I had the opportunity to meet and interact with some of the most famous and interesting people on the planet. In the near future, you will hear short stories about people such as Michael Jordan, Don Rickles, Bryant Gumbel, Lawrence Taylor, Julius Erving, and many others. I can tell you with utmost sincerity that all of the stories are true, and will provide an entertaining unique perspective on some of these legendary figures.
Here is the first story about basketball superstar Michael Jordan. Hope you enjoy, and please send me your feedback!
Ken Dunek
MICHAEL JORDAN
Eagles training camp in West Chester, Pennsylvania in the summer of 1980 drew an odd assortment of onlookers. Local sports celebrities, national media, and Hollywood personalities were often seen wandering around the area. I guess they were all football fans, but I always wondered how the heat, pain, and drudgery that was my perspective of training camp could be enticing to others to be around. I never quite understood it.
Doug Collins, the local basketball star from the 76’rs, was a mainstay at camp. In fact, there was a full basketball court next to the athletic dorms where the players were staying, and he was seen there numerous times working on his jump shot. Few players had the energy to play in the sparse amount of time we had in between the military like practices held by Coach Dick Vermeil, but my basketball background and Illinois roots (Doug played at Illinois State) proved too powerful to resist so I would play some one on one with him from time to time.
Several years later after I retired from football, I was working for Roosevelt Paper Company as a salesman. The outfit was owned and operated by Irv Kosloff, who had owned the 76’rs until selling them in the early 80’s to local businessman Fitz Dixon. Although no longer having a principle interest in the team, he still had the 4 best seats in the house which were on the visiting bench. And I mean ON THE BENCH! I was in literal basketball heaven. You could converse with the coaches, listen to strategy, and get a most unique perspective on NBA basketball. It just so happens that my good friend Doug Collins was now the Head Coach of the Chicago Bulls.
At this point I must interject about the pain associated with being a Chicago sports fan. The Cubs have been a lifelong misery, the Bulls were always competitive but never quite part of the NBA elite, the Bears had one shining moment in 1985 with Ditka and Payton, the Hawks were one of the cheapest and worst run franchises in the NHL, and the Sox hadn’t won since the 50’s (but I didn’t care because no true Cubs fan roots for the Sox anyway). The Bulls had not won a championship yet, but you could see the ground was being laid for a potential great team. I was so happy for the long suffering Chicago sports fans.
I was on the court about a half hour before the Bulls-Sixers game when Collins recognized me and walked over to chat. My wife Terri didn’t believe me when I told her I knew Collins personally, and she was wide eyed as he approached. “Hi Ken”, he said. “What are you doing here with Koz, looking to buy back the team?” Irv shook his head with an emphatic no, and I told Collins I was about 80 million dollars short of the down payment.
After a couple of minutes talking about the Eagles 1980 Super Bowl team, Collins says, “Hey, you’re from Chicago. Would you like to meet Michael Jordan”? I was stunned, speechless. Would I like to meet Michael Jordan? It’s like asking me if I’d like to kiss the Pope’s ring. Of course I’d like to meet him, and my wife’s eyes became wider still.
He yells across the court to where Jordan was taking some pre-game warm up shots. “Hey Michael come here, there is someone I want you to meet”, Collins says. He introduced him to Mr. Kozloff first, and I was salivating with sweaty palms as I awaited my turn to meet one of my only true sports idols. “And this is my friend Ken”, Collins exclaims as he directs Jordan in my direction. I extended my rather large pass catching right hand, and I was immediately engulfed by his. “No wonder the guy can perform magic tricks with the ball”, I thought. “It looks like an orange in his hand”. We are smack dab in the middle of the longest handshake I can remember, when Collins utters the immortal words…”And Michael, Ken says he can KICK YOUR ASS”. I looked at Jordan’s face, and his smile turned to a pregame scowl. “Football player or no football player”, Jordan responds while letting my hand go in an icy manner, “You tell Ken he can’t kick my ass... in anything”. And he walked away without a goodbye to continue his pre game ritual.
I could have killed Collins. “Why did you say THAT?” I exclaimed. Doug responds, “Yeah, he didn’t take to kindly to that, did he”? He then excused himself to prepare for the game, leaving me aghast at what had just happened.
My only personal interaction with possibly the greatest player in the history of basketball had nearly turned into a confrontation, and I have my good friend Doug Collins to thank for it. The next time we play one on one, I’m think I’m going to post him up.
Some of you may know that I played professional football from 1980 to 1985, officially retiring in 1987. Retiring in my case is a nice way of saying no one was interested in my services any longer. Regardless, I played four full seasons and made it to the league final game all 4 years ( 1 Super Bowl, 3 USFL Championship games). I tried to market myself as a good luck charm to several general managers, but with no success.
During those years, and even before, I had the opportunity to meet and interact with some of the most famous and interesting people on the planet. In the near future, you will hear short stories about people such as Michael Jordan, Don Rickles, Bryant Gumbel, Lawrence Taylor, Julius Erving, and many others. I can tell you with utmost sincerity that all of the stories are true, and will provide an entertaining unique perspective on some of these legendary figures.
Here is the first story about basketball superstar Michael Jordan. Hope you enjoy, and please send me your feedback!
Ken Dunek
MICHAEL JORDAN
Eagles training camp in West Chester, Pennsylvania in the summer of 1980 drew an odd assortment of onlookers. Local sports celebrities, national media, and Hollywood personalities were often seen wandering around the area. I guess they were all football fans, but I always wondered how the heat, pain, and drudgery that was my perspective of training camp could be enticing to others to be around. I never quite understood it.
Doug Collins, the local basketball star from the 76’rs, was a mainstay at camp. In fact, there was a full basketball court next to the athletic dorms where the players were staying, and he was seen there numerous times working on his jump shot. Few players had the energy to play in the sparse amount of time we had in between the military like practices held by Coach Dick Vermeil, but my basketball background and Illinois roots (Doug played at Illinois State) proved too powerful to resist so I would play some one on one with him from time to time.
Several years later after I retired from football, I was working for Roosevelt Paper Company as a salesman. The outfit was owned and operated by Irv Kosloff, who had owned the 76’rs until selling them in the early 80’s to local businessman Fitz Dixon. Although no longer having a principle interest in the team, he still had the 4 best seats in the house which were on the visiting bench. And I mean ON THE BENCH! I was in literal basketball heaven. You could converse with the coaches, listen to strategy, and get a most unique perspective on NBA basketball. It just so happens that my good friend Doug Collins was now the Head Coach of the Chicago Bulls.
At this point I must interject about the pain associated with being a Chicago sports fan. The Cubs have been a lifelong misery, the Bulls were always competitive but never quite part of the NBA elite, the Bears had one shining moment in 1985 with Ditka and Payton, the Hawks were one of the cheapest and worst run franchises in the NHL, and the Sox hadn’t won since the 50’s (but I didn’t care because no true Cubs fan roots for the Sox anyway). The Bulls had not won a championship yet, but you could see the ground was being laid for a potential great team. I was so happy for the long suffering Chicago sports fans.
I was on the court about a half hour before the Bulls-Sixers game when Collins recognized me and walked over to chat. My wife Terri didn’t believe me when I told her I knew Collins personally, and she was wide eyed as he approached. “Hi Ken”, he said. “What are you doing here with Koz, looking to buy back the team?” Irv shook his head with an emphatic no, and I told Collins I was about 80 million dollars short of the down payment.
After a couple of minutes talking about the Eagles 1980 Super Bowl team, Collins says, “Hey, you’re from Chicago. Would you like to meet Michael Jordan”? I was stunned, speechless. Would I like to meet Michael Jordan? It’s like asking me if I’d like to kiss the Pope’s ring. Of course I’d like to meet him, and my wife’s eyes became wider still.
He yells across the court to where Jordan was taking some pre-game warm up shots. “Hey Michael come here, there is someone I want you to meet”, Collins says. He introduced him to Mr. Kozloff first, and I was salivating with sweaty palms as I awaited my turn to meet one of my only true sports idols. “And this is my friend Ken”, Collins exclaims as he directs Jordan in my direction. I extended my rather large pass catching right hand, and I was immediately engulfed by his. “No wonder the guy can perform magic tricks with the ball”, I thought. “It looks like an orange in his hand”. We are smack dab in the middle of the longest handshake I can remember, when Collins utters the immortal words…”And Michael, Ken says he can KICK YOUR ASS”. I looked at Jordan’s face, and his smile turned to a pregame scowl. “Football player or no football player”, Jordan responds while letting my hand go in an icy manner, “You tell Ken he can’t kick my ass... in anything”. And he walked away without a goodbye to continue his pre game ritual.
I could have killed Collins. “Why did you say THAT?” I exclaimed. Doug responds, “Yeah, he didn’t take to kindly to that, did he”? He then excused himself to prepare for the game, leaving me aghast at what had just happened.
My only personal interaction with possibly the greatest player in the history of basketball had nearly turned into a confrontation, and I have my good friend Doug Collins to thank for it. The next time we play one on one, I’m think I’m going to post him up.
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