Like Mike. If I Could Be Like Mike

So this morning, I got up at 4:07 a.m. to get out the door by 4:45 a.m. to be at the San Jose International airport by 5:10 a.m. to make a 6:10 a.m. flight from San Jose to Charleston to visit my parents. This is very early. So I get my ticket and I decide not to pre-board with Jaelle to give her as LONG as possible to run around and get energy out, because she’s going to be sitting on my lap for the next five hours.

So, I am in the last group to board, and my arms are full of stuff. Diaper bag, my backpack, Jaelle’s bag of toys, her blanket, her bottle, Jaelle herself. Kind of stressful. So I walk on board the plane. My seat is 8D. The first 6 rows are first class, and as I get on, I sort of glance around at the 1st class passengers, all of whom are already seated.

As I’m walking by, I see a guy in the aisle seat of row 6. We make eye contact and then I realize, “Wait. I know that guy.”

Then I think, “Holy cow, that’s Mike Singletary.”

Mike Singletary: only the greatest linebacker to ever play the game of football and the current head coach of the San Francisco 49’ers.

Now, I don’t often encounter famous people. Let alone famous people I actually admire. So I didn’t know how to handle myself (as you’ll see).

MY MIND:
Wait a second. Don’t freak out. It might not really be him. Maybe it’s just a bespectacled, light-skinned black man decked out head to toe in a new, bright red 49’ers vest, hat, t-shirt and lapel pin studying what is clearly some sort of playbook.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
Dude you’re an idiot! That’s Mike Singletary.

MY MIND:
Holy cow, it’s not even 6 a.m., and I’m looking at Mike Singletary, who is not only arguably the best linebacker in the history of football, but a lock for the Hall of Fame.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
Wait a second. Is Mike Singletary already in the Hall of Fame? You’re eligible five years after you stop playing, right? Wait, Michael Irvin is in, and he retired WAY after Mike, so he’s got to be already in the Hall of Fame, right? Yes, definitely. He’s already in the Hall of Fame. Oh man.

Then, Mike Singletary looked up at me, probably because I’d been staring a hole through his head for the last four seconds. He nodded.

Now, normally, most normal people with normal social skills would have simply nodded back, looked away, and proceeded to their seat. That’s what I wish I would have done. I would blame the next series of events on the fact that it was 5:50 a.m. and I was delirious, but I know that’s not really true.

So, again, the normal social interaction would have been to nod back at Mr. Singletary, then proceed to my seat. This is not what happened.

“Holy cow, you’re Mike Singletary,” I blurted out.

Mr. Singletary looked up. He was not nearly as surprised at this fact as I was.

“Seriously. You’re Mike Singletary,” I said, just in case he was confused about his identity.

Now, I don’t know why I said that. It’s probably because I think of famous people (like NFL head coaches) as being above average joes like me. I half expected him to say, “Wait a second. I am Mike Singletary. What the heck am I doing on American Airlines Flight 3507 with service non-stop to Dallas? Get me to my private 49’ers plane!”

And then he’d quickly stand up, grab his attaché case or perhaps his soft-sided leather bag, and step into the aisle. Then, shaking his head in disbelief, he’d grab me by my shoulders and say, “Son. Thank you. I have been under so much stress lately as the head coach of the 49ers, you know, because it’s tough work making a real team out of those pansies, that I’ve been sleepwalking. Typically, I end up in my kitchen, staring at a half-full glass of milk, but this time, well, let’s just say I’m glad you snapped me out of that before I was in Texas airspace.”

Then, he’d pat me on the shoulder one more time, and then, using his superior athletic skills (which though rusted and faded were still clearly present) he’d nimbly dart upstream through the line of people crowding the aisle in the first class cabin, and make his way out of the plane.

And then, everyone would look at each other knowingly and nod to each, as if to say, “Wow. I will never forget the time I saw Mike Singletary not only sleepwalking but also sleep-buying-an-airline-ticket-to-Dallas.”

That’s what I expected to happen.

But that’s not what happened. Mike Singletary just kind of nodded at me.

Then I kind of went stupid. I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I’d already established that it was, indeed, Mike Singletary. So I did what came naturally. I decided to make a joke. Again, I will offer you a tape recorder to my mental processes. Keep in mind these were my thoughts in the span of about 1/8 of a second.

MY MIND:
Joke. Joke. Need a joke. What to say? Oh, I know. You could pull a Dennis Green and just start shouting, “You are who I thought you were! You are who I thought you were!” That would be funny on three levels. First, it’s a play on the fact that I’m clearly way too excited about recognizing him. Second, it’s a head coach joke. Third, it’s a black head coach joke.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
You idiot. You can’t start shouting on a plane. They’ll call security. Plus, what if Mike Singletary doesn’t get the reference, because let’s be honest, it’s a bit obscure. Then you’ll look like a huge, insane idiot.

MY MIND:
Ohh, good point. Okay, what about something that compliments him. What if you say something like, “Well, I feel good about a Hall of Fame linebacker being on the plane to protect the cockpit, because if Eric Dickerson can’t make it past number 50, then you know some nervous hack from Qatar with a box cutter ain’t gonna get it done.”

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
What?

MY MIND:
See, it’s funny because of the reference to Eric Dickerson.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
And not funny because it mentions terrorists and also is vaguely racist.

MY MIND:
Okay, what if you went straight football. Don’t go pop reference, just straight football. You could say, “So wait. You played your whole career in Chicago, and now you’re the head coach of the San Francisco 49’ers, and you’re voluntarily flying to Dallas. I don’t think that’s safe, man.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
Ooh, that’s good. Say it. Out loud. Now. Quick. Before too much time passes. Plus, you’re stuck in this line and can’t move anywhere and your daughter isn’t getting any lighter.

ME:
(to Mike Singletary)
“So wait. You played your whole career in Chicago, and now you’re the head coach of the San Francisco 49’ers, and you’re voluntarily flying to Dallas. I don’t think that’s safe, man.

NFL HALL OF FAMER MIKE SINGLETARY:
Haha.

ME:
(gaining confidence that he didn’t immediately tackle me and beat me)
“They might jump you. Seriously, if you need protection, I might look soft, but underneath this insulation is some real power. So let me know, I’m in 8D”

NFL HALL OF FAMER MIKE SINGLETARY:
Haha. Okay.

MY MIND:
Oh my gosh! That totally rocked! He laughed.

ANOTHER PART OF MY MIND:
Say something about how you respect his character, his integrity and the fact that he’s a committed follower of Jesus. Mention Jesus! You’re a pastor. This could be your chance. He could see that you’re both funny and a Christian and then offer you a role as Chaplain to the 49ers! This could be a turning point in your career! You could meld your two passions: Jesus and Football! Come on!

FLIGHT ATTENDANT:
(using the PA system)
Attention passengers: if you could make your way to your seat so that everyone can get on the plane.

MY MIND:
Oh, she’s talking about me.

So that was my encounter with football legend Mike Singletary.

Can you imagine what would have happened if I'd been on a plane with, say, Bono? I'd be in custody.