I met Johnny Unitas the day before he died.
It was early morning on Tuesday, September 10th, at the Fountain Green Elementary School outside of Bel Air. It was primary election day. I was there for a candidate who was running for state delegate. About 7:30 that morning, I was talking to another volunteer. I saw a car come into the parking lot, so I turned and waved and pointed to a sign I held, and then went back to our conversation. All of a sudden, Johnny Unitas was walking across the drive to a group of volunteers. His son was running for the state senate. I said to the man I was talking to, "That looks like Johnny Unitas." He said, "It is. He looks really good." I had to agree. "Let's go meet him," I said.
We walked directly over to him. Never mind that he was talking to someone else. My morning friend extended his hand, and he shook it. I was next. As I started to extend my hand, Johnny reached out with his and said, "Hi, I'm Johnny Unitas." As I firmly took his hand to shake it - this was Johnny Unitas; no weak handshake from me! - I suddenly felt the many small bones in his hand seem to re-arrange themselves like a bag full of marbles. It surprised me, and I quickly loosened my grib but not his hand. Johnny's handshake was firm but gentle. "Well," I said, "I'm throwing away my sign!" Meaning, Give me one of your son's signs, I'm now a supporter! There was some laughter. The rest is a blur. More cars were pulling into the lot. I had to go. When I looked around a few moments later, Johnny U. was gone. I and my morning friend both agreed that was something.
Advertisement
|
|
|
|
I'm too old to be thrilled, but it was a very satisfying experience to meet the greatest quarterback who ever played the game of football. He changed the nature of the sport. I remember the Colts being down 20 points with less than two minutes to go and winning the game. The play I remember was Johnny U. throwing his patented bomb 50 yards down the sideline, and Lenny Moore running under it and scampering into the endzone for the winning touchdown. It was unbelievable. We went bonkers in the living room, as thousands of fans in Memorial Stadium went wild too. Johnny U. ambled to the sideline as if it was all in a day's work. I don't care what you say, they don't play that kind of football anymore.
The Colts back then were ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Maybe it had something to do with Baltimore and that blue collar thing. Then again, maybe it was because they were led by the greatest quarterback of all time.
Johnny, we're going to miss you.
Daniel McCoy
