Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Totally Not Cool

After I published my last post about meeting Walt Frazier, I got to thinking about how uncool I have acted when I've met some of my "heros" over the years.

My friends and I waited over an hour at the rear entrance to Maple Leaf Gardens for jeff beck to emerge after his Wired concert in '77. We then chased his limo for 15 minutes while it circled the neighbourhood traying to loose us (finally stopping only a block away from the Gardens at the original Four seasons Hotel). Once he stepped out of the car he autographed my ticket stub. As I sat on the subway going home, I stared at the ticket and realized I had nothing to say to him.

I met Muhammad Ali at the corner of 53rd and madison, my last week of living in New York. I crossed the street, and stuck out my hand and said "Champ, you're the greatest." He thanked me and shook my hand with his giant maw. When he walked away I had a story to tell people who only smiled kindly and acted like they cared.

A few years ago I met Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page in short succession. I figured that as a guitarist I'd have something profound to say or ask. Wrong.

Same thing with Stevei Ray Vaughan. I met him in the elevator at the Mayflower Hotel in New York shortly before he became a superstar. Everyone was already talking about him though because of his guitar playing on Bowie Let's Dance album. I'll spare you the boring details one our one way conversation. Needless to say, I'm sure I didn't make an impact.

Nor did I make an impact on Zenon Andrusyshyn. The Argo kicker mocked me and my chubbiness as I chawed on an ice cream bar and vowed to be a better football player then he ever was.

Glamour, glamour, glamour. That's all my life has been.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

And when I met k.d. lang after one of her performances, I was tongue-tied. "Thank you" is all I can remember saying. What a waste of her/our time, eh?

Truth is, we most of us are so enamored of all these people who are fortunate enough to have great managers and publicists who get their name out there. It's a romantic notion that we have something in common with any of them. Ha! Why aren't they clamoring to meet us, eh?

Nellie you-know-who