Seeing that the Chicago Bears are in the news (something
about a double doink), it seems as
good a time as any to tell my Mike Ditka skips story.
Back in the 2000s, I covered the Chicago Rush of the Arena
Football League. Although the AFL is a shadow of its former self, for many of
those years the Rush drew big crowds, games were televised on NBC and celebrity
owners included Ditka, Jon Bon Jovi (Philadelphia Soul) and John Elway
(Colorado Crush).
I don’t recall the specific year, but the Rush had a press
event at Ditka’s Restaurant in downtown Chicago. Ditka was available to media
before several Rush games so this wasn’t the first time I interacted with him.
As a Milwaukee native and lifelong Packers fan living in
suburban Chicago, my relationship with Ditka and Chicago sports is complicated.
Over the years, I’ve largely made peace with the White Sox (they are in a
different league from the Brewers) and the Blackhawks (there is no NHL hockey
team in Milwaukee). The Bulls are currently something of a joke and no threat to
the surging Bucks, a far cry from growing up when Michael Jordan and the Bulls
seemed to always beat the Bucks.
The Cubs and the Bears, though, are a different matter. Many
Cubs’ fans are insufferable (not my friends who root for the Cubs of course),
and the Packers rivalry with the Bears is one of the most intense in all of sports.
So while I’m sure other reporters relished the opportunity to
interview Ditka, I wished that a different celebrity owned the
Rush.
Just think how different my life would be if it was Chicago’s
Eddie Vedder. I could have pitched him my song lyrics for the fifth version of
“The Chanukah Song”, had his people talk to Adam’s, and who knows where that
would have led.
Or, if it was Glencoe’s Fred Savage of “The Wonder Years” fame. We could have swapped stories from our respective acting careers. People still talk, I’m told, about how I was the breakout star of my sixth-grade play. I apparently delivered my one line with equal parts gusto and gumbo – “Soup. All we ever eat is soup. I can’t look at soup again.”
Or, if it was Glencoe’s Fred Savage of “The Wonder Years” fame. We could have swapped stories from our respective acting careers. People still talk, I’m told, about how I was the breakout star of my sixth-grade play. I apparently delivered my one line with equal parts gusto and gumbo – “Soup. All we ever eat is soup. I can’t look at soup again.”
But instead the Rush's owner had to be Ditka.
When the media availability at his restaurant ended, I
went to the valet and handed him my ticket. A few minutes later Ditka talked to
a valet and in no time he was driving away … while I was still waiting for my
car.
An idea came to me. Sure, it was his restaurant and his
city, but that made it too good not to try.
I walked up to the valet and said, “I gave you my ticket
before that man with the mustache did.”
Said it simply.
Sold it with a deadpan approach that rivaled Marty
Funkhouser (aka the late great Bob Einstein).
Said it like any Packer shareholder and season-ticket
holder should.
The expression on the valet’s face was priceless.
My only regret? Wish I would have said, “I gave you my
ticket before that portly man with the
mustache did.”
Still, not sure I’ve ever been prouder.
And, after further review, I like to think – actually, I
know – that Vince, Bart, Brett and Aaron are as well.
great stuff, love dad. Love the gusto and gumbo comment
ReplyDeleteGreat story!
ReplyDeleteThank you. This was a fun one.
ReplyDeleteGreat story Bob! I’m glad you actually acted on your idea of making that comment to the valet. Ideas are a dime a dozen but acting on them is what makes money or in this case, a great story. And I must mention that my dad has also referred to his son-in-law as an “insufferable” Bears/Cubs fan!
ReplyDeleteThanks Mark. Too good an opportunity, just had to go for it.
ReplyDelete