Tuesday, January 19, 2010


You guys already know how much I love the Patriots. I just love football. I'll watch any two teams play it doesn't really matter, but I live and die with the Pats. Another love of mine is the Celtics, although not to the extent that I love my Patriots. A few days ago I was able to go watch the C's play against the Chicago Bulls. I went with a friend of mine that works for a local newspaper.

We had the opportunity to get a media pass which gets us "back stage" if there were a stage at a basketball game. Before the game we had a quick few bites in what I guess was the media lunch room. I figured I'd be eating some soup with a much older crowd of journalists before heading out to the game when suddenly members of the front office, television commentators, coaches, some players, a few cheerleaders, and my main man Tommy Heinsohn walked in. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Most 24 year olds would have snuck over and grabbed a seat next to one of the Celtic's dancers, or maybe with Rasheed Wallace. I went for the 75 year old ex-player before I was born now turned TV broadcaster.

I snuck a few peaks over at him every few minutes, eating his Chinese spare ribs and kung-pow-chicken, then opening up a few fortune cookies. Have you ever seen Billy Madison, when on Valentine's day Billy receives a card and looks up to see Principle Max Anderson staring at him? It kind of reminded me of that...I was the Revolting Blob. I'm sorry but Tommy is the man. I've watched over 1000 Celtic's games and Tommy has announced pretty much all of them.

I finished my meal, threw my plate away, and walked out the door to the media sign-in table. I had to sign in and receive another pass to be allowed to walk court-side. While waiting for my pass I looked to my left and Tommy stepped next to me to grab his pass. Here was my chance to say something cunning, funny, memorable, or even just, "Hi Mr. Heinsohn, it's a pleasure to meet you and I love watching you on TV every night." Instead I was transformed into little nine year old Matt Antonelli with my wicked cool 3rd grade comb over and lisp that would make the great Iron Mike Tyson Jealous. "Hi there."...Hi there? What the @&!# was that? I could have said pretty much anything else and it would have been cooler than, "hi there." I received a, "hi" in response. At that point an older lady walked over to Tommy and asked for an autograph, which he gladly signed and then chatted with the woman for a few minutes. I grabbed my pass and walked out to my seat. I'm an idiot.

1 comment:

  1. one of my first memories of sports is listening to Chick Hearn and Hot Rod Hundley call Lakers games when I was 10 or 11. Many years later I got to meet Hot Rod at a dinner and I turned into that 10 year old again. I know exactly what you were experiencing.