I am not easily intimidated by people. Hell, the only difference between me and Nas is some gold chains and some introspective lyrics; the only discrepancy between me and Tracy McGrady is that he can play basketball and I cannot.
But this was different.
It was my first month of co-op in the department when I first saw Him in person. Sure, I had seen Him all over the place: television, newspapers…shoot, I’ve even heard Him speak on the radio a couple of times. It didn’t matter that here He was talking to the person right next to me, who happened to be another co-op that was only one year my elder. Still, I sat at my desk with my head staring down at the ground out of sheer awe of the Man.
A month or two later, all-scholastic photos for the springtime athletes were taken. My boss told me to direct any incoming high school students downstairs and direct them to the room where the pictures were to be taken.
A couple of hours passed, and several students later, I was instructed to take Norwell’s Gerry Corcoran down to the photo room. To my surprise, the Man accompanied him; it turns out he was the Man’s grandson. The whole time I led them downstairs, I kept telling myself “do not get lost, Mag. You’ve been here three months. Do not get Gerry and the Man with him lost.” Eventually, I couldn’t bear thinking about it anymore, so I got some guts, and started talking to the two men. I focused most of my conversation on the youngster, and the Man didn’t seem to mind too much. It’s almost as if he understood how I perceived Him.
As I got more comfortable leading them, however, I began to speak to the Man. We introduced ourselves to each other, and I asked Him about an incident involving a New England Patriots player back in the 1970s. He spoke to me as if He’d known me for years. By the time we finally got the room, He said to me, “It was good talking to you, Ev. We should do lunch sometime.”
That discussion probably made my life for the next couple of months, but it didn’t stop there. I figured He was probably just being cordial, so I just put it off to the side. A couple of weeks later, I wrote a piece on collegiate softball in the state of Massachusetts. He came up to me and said, “Nice work, Ev.” Again, I was flattered.
As time passed, He’d sit down and ask me questions like, “Hey Ev, what do they got you working on this week?” or “Ev, can you stay at my desk for a few? I’m waiting for an important phone call. Answer it if it rings, and tell them I’ll be right back.” On one such occasion, I picked up the phone and Mike Barnicle was on the other end.
It wasn’t restricted to duties such as those, however. Sometimes He’d sit down with me and talk sports. I recall Him asking me for my opinion on Yao Ming, and telling me how much He enjoyed watching former Memphis star and current Cavaliers rookie Dajuan Wagner play ball.
It was just so funny. This Man was the most connected Person in Massachusetts, possibly in America, and He had people such as Al Davis and Red Auerbach in his rolodex. Despite all this fame and all the recognition, there was not a hint of superficiality to any essence of His being. He talked to me, the Northeastern University co-op student, the same way he would talk to Bill Parcells, or the same way he would talk to that dude that drags out the green bins in every department. You know, the one with the jerri curl juice dripping from his afro that greets every person he meets with a sincere, “Hello.” I apologize, you wouldn’t know him … but He would.
So long, Will McDonough. Maybe we can do lunch and discuss hoops in another lifetime.
