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| This picture makes so much sense. To this day, Steelers will and always will be right above Dallas. |
As for the few that probably do not know, I have been working as a cashier at Zaxby's for almost four years now. I could probably attempt to pursue work elsewhere, but I have always enjoyed having work really close to my house while I'm in school and the people I work with create a fun environment.
The downside to my work though is simple: it gets very repetitive. Constantly taking orders and sending out food is just something that I think no one should have to do to make a living. Sadly, a lot of people do and I hope someday that can change.
As yesterday's shift began, I received a text message from a fellow employee asking if I would take her night shift along with the day shift I was already working. I laughed it off, told her that the Alabaster Cityfest (huge event in my city) was going on and I was not going to be at work all day.
Then, it happened.
"O can't I am mow to my dads I will give u 20 plz I'm desperate."
No clue what "I am mow to my dads" means, but I saw the offer of twenty bucks pretty clearly. I kind of felt like a contestant on Deal or No Deal, except if I take the deal I do not get to hop on a plane with my cash and head home; I was going to be stuck at Zaxby's for almost twelve hours.
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| It's twenty bucks, Chad. |
I take the deal and feel like an idiot, but at least I was an idiot with twenty more dollars in his pocket. Work begins at 10:30 AM, and I feel like traveling to the back of the store and putting my head in one of the fryers, it would be the easy way out of a long, hot and miserable Alabama Saturday. The baseball teams and families visiting the city for CityFest all piled in and I took their orders, as I barely attempted to look at their faces. Things continued to speed up, until I saw one man walk in and it kind of felt as if time had stood still.
Into my memory banks I pried, attempting to figure out who he was. He was a black man, with round glasses and a "Panama Jack" kind of hat. He was wearing Under Armour brand shorts and most importantly, an Pro Football Hall of Fame inductee polo shirt.
"Click", said Chad's Brain. "I think this is Steelers legendary Wide Receiver John Stallworth."
Instantly I froze up, stunned at the possibility of meeting someone so crucial to my favorite franchise's success in the entire decade of the 1970's. As he approached, the print below the Hall of Fame logo had all but confirmed it as it read:
John Stallworth, NFL Hall of Fame Inductee, August 3rd, 2002.
It had hit me, this was really happening. Thoughts begin to run through my head: 1. Damn, I wish I was not working. 2. Well, at least Zaxby's colors are black and gold! 3.I HAVE TO CALL MY PAP-PAP! 4. Man, John seems a lot shorter than I remember from the highlight videos.
He was very short. Too short. Not short in our kind of sense, but in the NFL kind of sense that controls my brain. He was as tall as me and that just did not seem right.
As I stood on the other side of the counter, I listened to every single word he said with more attention than anything I had ever heard inside that store.
"I'll take a kid's meal. Ummm...does that come with a drink?"
"Yes it does, Sir."
" And then Ummmm...how about a Salad, Grilled please. Does that also come with a drink?"
"Yes it does, Sir."
The salads have never come with a drink, but they did today. This was John Stallworth baby, and knowing the NFL has done a less-than average job at taking care of their retired players, Mr. Stallworth was not going to pay a dime more than he had to. Not a dime.
After he hands me his money, I finally get the courage to ask him a question that I think he knew I was going to ask him the whole time.
"Sir?", I asked in maybe the nicest way I have in my whole life.
"Are you who I think you are?" (Looking back, I could have simply said, "Are you John Stallworth?", but this makes for a very dramatic situation that I loved.)
He responded so calmly, "If I am thinking of who you are thinking of, then I think I would be his brother."
Boom, the non-existent hammer of awkward in the restaurant slams down, stopping all sound in my brain making me feel as if minute and a half of worrying and hyper-thinking meant nothing.
"Ohhhhhh," I said. "Well that is really, really cool!"
We talked for a couple minutes, I explained my ultimate Steeler fan-hood, we chatted about the Pro Football Hall of Fame and John's induction in 2002. Then my favorite exchange of words that came between each other:
"You know, I think your brother was a lot better than Lynn Swann.", I said with a grin on my face.
"We do too," he said smiling back.
That made my day. Even though the shift I picked up had yet to begin, I was gleaming with joy because I met someone so close to a Steelers' legend. As he got up to leave and threw away his trash, he looked back for me, not me chasing for him.
I looked at him with a smile and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir."
He smiled back and said, "Same to you, Chad."
As he walked out the door I yelled, "Hey!" and he turned back around.
"Please thank your brother," I kindly put, "for everything."
He smiled and said "Ok" as he walked out the door.
Who knows if he will ever tell John about the kid who recognized the face of a Stallworth he had never seen before. Probably not, but I am really okay with that. The moments that I had when I thought he was somebody he was not was enough for me.
Everybody has someone or certain things they are in awe of. It could be a movie star, singer, etc. For me it has always been members of the 1970's Pittsburgh Steelers. The members of those championship teams had to be so disciplined but also talented, so humble but confident and frequent winners, but never satisfied. Those qualities are something that I feel the game has lost over the years, with the development of egotistical players getting paid obscene amounts of money. (That is a whole another story or two.)
Call me crazy for living in a past I was never apart of, but I know that he and members of certain teams in that era did things the right way, not boasting and cutting corners to try to get ahead.
As Stallworth's brother left the store I chuckled and said to myself', "I knew he was too short."
John Stallworth was 6 foot, 2 inches according to multiple player profiles across the net. I am dangerously close to that height. Some may say, "Maybe John was undersized", but the numbers do not lie. He made up for it in heart and battle life's struggles, he even experienced a rare disease in his childhood that left him paralyzed for two weeks.
It would have been cool to meet the real-life John Stallworth, but his brother helped remind me of a lesson that all of us discover many times in life:
Don't judge a book by it's cover.
Or maybe in this case, its size.
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