As a television producer for a production company in Washington D.C., my normal workday consists of writing scripts, conducting interviews, and casting aspiring actors in true-crime re-creations (yes, I'm one of those guys, don't get jel). But on a Tuesday in the summer of 2012, my work routine was anything but normal. Because Vernon Davis came to my office, and asked me if I want to party in Miami for a week with him and his brother Vontae, and then go on a European vacation, all expenses paid. What a day!
Okay, I made that last part up, had to do it... but the rest of this story is true. As I was saying, I was just sitting at my desk, writing a teleplay. When all of a sudden, nature started calling... Now before I indulge you with all the intimate details of this story, it's important that I provide some exposition, because if you don't understand the layout of my office, you won't begin to comprehend this story. Where to begin? Oh yeah, I had to take a piss. And to do such a thing, in my office, you actually have to leave the immediate office area, and walk down a hall filled with other business enterprises to reach the proverbial "Holy Grail." On any other day, the thought of having to walk this far to take a leak is frustrating (and borderline dangerous at times). But because of this crappy architectural design (thank you University of Phoenix engineering department) I got my chance to meet Big Vern.
As I was making my walk down the hall to little boy's room, I noticed a group of gentlemen congregating outside of the bathroom. Said men were towering fellas, athletically toned, statuesque if you will. The sight of burly men in our complex wasn't all that uncommon, since there was a physical therapy practice right next door to my company. I thought to myself, must be some college athletes from one of the hundred universities near by (or if I was lucky, a few All-American Linebackers from the University of Phoenix). Even so, I took a quick peep in passing, being that I'm a sport junky and all.
After doing so, I noticed that one of the men in the group was my idol, my hero, the legend himself Vernon Davis (for those of you who don't know, Vernon is a D.C. native, much like Abraham Lincoln). The sight didn't immediately hit me though. I was star struck, maybe it was denial, whatever you wanted to call it, my mouth stopped working, and my legs kept walking right into the bathroom. However, before I entered, I did manage to say a few words, words so wise they could be preached in church. I proclaimed........ "Vernon Davis."
Then I immediately entered the bathroom. That was the extent of our conversation, nothing other than saying "Vernon Davis." Panic set in all of a sudden, did I sound stupid? Odds are Vernon Davis probably knew he was Vernon Davis. Yep, I became something I never thought I'd be... an idiot in front of my favorite 49er. Although I wasn't about to quit on meeting my hero. Just then, something came over me, a resurgence if you will (I also just took one of hell of a piss). I rushed out of the bathroom, with an unshakable determination and sense of vigor. To my chagrin, number 85 was already gone. Quicker than a Mike Singletary benching, my hero was gone! The window of opportunity had closed.
And that was the day I met Vernon Davis...
I kid, I kid... this story hasn't ended quite yet. I would get my happy ending a week later. When yet again, I was writing a script at my desk. This time, I got a call of a different kind... It was from my boss. She had heard about my chance encounter with Vernon a week earlier, and just so happen to see a large, NFL tight-end looking type of man at the physical therapy office on her way in. Her description of the man led me to believe it was Vernon, "his biceps are as big as your head," she said. It had to be him, it just had to be...
I closed my laptop, and hit the hallway faster than a "Vernon Post." After seeing him a week earlier, I decided it would be foolish of me to not bring a football into my office, in the event I had another opportunity to meet V.D. As I made my way down the hall, football tucked high and tight, a few coworkers saw me. They looked at me a bit cockeyed, but it wasn't the weirdest thing I've done, so I don't think it surprised them all that much. Then it happened; I came to my destination, the physical therapy office. In the office window was the most beautiful sight these eyes had seen, Vernon Davis. He was conveniently right there, as if they were having a sale on Vernon Davis' that day. This time, I was prepared, nothing was going to stop me.
My stock was up, my courage was high, and I was ready, so I knocked on the window glass, screaming, "hey man, can I get an autographed?"
Now anyone who has ever had the chance to meet their idol will tell you... when you ask him, or her, or it (Flipper/ Lassie) for their autograph, there is a second between your question and his answer, and that single second feels like an eternity, because in that very moment, your hero will either prove to be, well, a hero, or sadly sometimes, they turn out to be dicks.
If you haven't guessed, Vernon was one of the good guys, why else would I be writing this article? He agreed to sign my football, and we slapped five right there in my very own office (same complex, it counts). It was a seamless slapping of hands too; it was like slapping five with your best friend of twenty years. Not one of those awkward, I just met you and I don't know if you grip and release, or grip and hug type slaps. Sadly, as I went to grab my iPhone in my pocket, I realized that in my excitement, I left it at my desk. But I don't need a photo to commemorate this experience, it's forever engrained in my head, and nothing can be a better picture than that.
Let me tell you, I could have been fired from work that day, my dog could have died, the Seahawks could have moved to San Francisco, and it wouldn't have mattered, because that was the best day of my life, and I hope that everyone gets a chance to meet their Vernon Davis, someway, some day, somehow.
- 49ers-Seahawks weather forecast looking fairly decent
- NFL head coach rumors: Greg Roman, Vic Fangio, Jim Tomsula get to wait at least another week
- Jim Harbaugh talks Seahawks preparations, quarterback sneaks, babysitters and more
- Today's links
- Jim Harbaugh's grandfather Joe Cipiti passed away Sunday morning