For all
the hemming and hawing we San Diegans like to do about the “East Coast Bias”, I
will say ESPN has done one hell of a job on the recent installment of “30 for
30”. Seeing as how I watch ESPN about as much as I run a marathon through the
jungles of Panama; I took the impatient cheapskate route and signed up for the
7-day free trial on ESPN+ instead of waiting for it to come out on Netflix.
My first
impression of Junior had me convinced he was Superman in lightning bolts
instead of a cape. It was the front of the sports page shot of him in the
weight room, curling God knows how many pounds of weights in each hand. I
remember knowing the full amount at one time, however that number has been lost
in distant memory. I do remember trying to bench press the same amount he had
on ONE HAND and barely being able lift the bar off the bench. It would have
taken at least four or five clones of myself to provide an adequate spotter.
As the
years rolled by, Junior’s NFL star grew at a pace surpassed only by my
admiration for him. And his unique ability to disrupt opposing offenses was
surpassed only by his ability to lift not only his team but our fair city of
San Diego onto his massive shoulders and lead us to the Promised Land and the
AFC Championship.
I first
met Junior in 2002 when we inducted Tony Gwynn into the Padres Hall of Fame.
Junior was among the honored guests of the evening. Before the pregame
ceremonies, all local dignitaries were gathered at the Padres Gameday Offices.
Getting them to the field was slow going, as each was provided a security
escort and as there were not enough guards to go around. Frustrated, Junior
finally said “I work here too, I don’t need security. I know the way to the
field.”
In a
successful attempt to accompany him, I suggested that I join him. My excuse was
that I was a Padres employee and his group would have radio contact with those
running the ceremony. Padres Assistant VP of Community Relations Nhu Tran
thought it was a great idea and thanked me profusely. To this day, I feel a tinge
of guilt, as on the surface I was being a model employee, doing whatever was
needed and even anticipating the needs of our guests. But deep down, I was
doing it for one reason; to get near the greatest SAN DIEGO Charger of all.
“Hey,
thanks Buddy” Junior said as we walked to the elevator. Little did I know, my
day was seconds away from getting a whole lot better. The elevator door opened
and to the left was Worthy, longtime elevator operator and a grizzly bear of a
man. To the right stood the man himself, Tony Gwynn. For the few moments as the
elevator descended to the Field Level, I was alone with the San Diego
equivalent of Ruth & Gehrig.
I was 8
years old again.
Knowing I could risk some serious disciplinary action up to
and including termination if I were to ask for an autograph, I chose instead to simply cherish the moment. Meeting either one of these great men had been a lifelong
dream and here I was in the company of both.
During
those years I carried a camera with me at all times. As we stepped off the elevator
I pulled out the camera and asked for a photo with both. Seau Foundation
Director Bette Hoffman obliged and for a split second, Junior and Tony had an
arm around me. Longtime San Diego sportswriter Bill Center called out to Tony
and before we could snap the picture, Tony stepped away and said “Just a
minute.”
Opportunity
lost.
I couldn’t
be bitter though, especially considering the way both looked at me and smiled
when I said “There are no two men more beloved in this town. This is a dream
come true, man.” Tony always had a way of downplaying any praise I would give
him and it became something of a game between us. “I’m just your coworker,
man.” He would tease, knowing full well I saw him as so much more than just a
coworker.
Later I
did in fact get my picture with Junior and as often happened after a night at
the Stadium, my feet didn’t touch the ground on the way home. I met Junior
again during Opening Week for Petco Park and enjoyed a few comped meals at
Seau’s the Restaurant in between. Each time we crossed paths he called me
“Buddy” and on one occasion while dining, he called me by my first name. Doesn't get any better than that. I thought of him often after he left for Miami.
I
thought back to January of 1995 while living in New Mexico; watching the SAN
DIEGO Chargers smash the Steelers in the mouth on the way to Miami. I thought
of the humorous encounter I had in the North Woods of Michigan with a man in a
Barry Sanders jersey; indicating the respect people had for him was indeed
nationwide.
I thought
of how for a many years, the only time I saw him was on TV or the occasional perch
from the nosebleed seats at the Murph. Then I would think, considering the way
he treated me every time we met, this man was my friend. A guy whom I had idolized
was a friend. Then one day, my friend was gone.
Nothing
could have prepared me for the news I woke to on May 2nd, 2012. It’s
still hard to fathom and always will be.
How could
we not have known? What could we have done? These questions were asked over and over again in our collective soul. In the days after his death I wrote
a blog detailing my own experiences with depression. I read reports about how
he had a hard time adjusting to “regular” life and I found that I shared many
of the same emotions. Once the curtain goes down on a career, no matter how
fulfilling; there is a need for energy, for excitement. I related to that well,
even though I was little more than just another face in the stands. Although
the daily routine changes, the need for adrenaline is still there. And anyone
who has seen Junior on the field knows well there was never a shortage of
adrenaline.
I miss
Junior and I always will. Yet I am often reluctant to say that publicly. I
hesitate because his children miss their dad; his parents miss their son; his
siblings miss their brother. Yet some things that continue to this day warm my
heart and inject adrenaline into my soul just as it did when he was burying the
likes of John Elway and Tim Brown into the turf, and even more so. I see his
family fighting the NFL and dedicating themselves to holding the League
accountable. I see a strong young woman in Sydney Seau and her brothers Tyler,
Jake and Hunter ensuring his legacy, on and off the field, will continue.
I see man
who succumbed to his demons yet in one final selfless act; did it in such a way
that maybe, just maybe, his passing would help ensure that no families have to
experience such a tragic loss in the future. Of all his on-field domination that
led him to Canton that may well play out to be his greatest legacy…