erod
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It was 1975, and my family was in Dallas visiting my aunt and uncle. Richardson, to be more exact, which was a far northern suburb at the time. Trips to Richardson were quick and common, but this time was very different.
I was going to meet a Dallas Cowboy. He lived in apartments my aunt managed, and she'd cleared a stop-by for a visit and an autograph. My Cowboys craze was three years in its infancy, but I'd seen every single play of every game since Super Bowl VI.
Doug Dennison wasn't a name most remember, but he did see a lot of action. He got a healthy share in a committee of running backs that included Preston Pearson, Robert Newhouse, and Scott Laidlaw. Most importantly, he played for that team, with that coach, took handoffs from that quarterback, and played with my favorite player, Drew Pearson. Dennison was on my wall, #21 on the poster every kid of the 70s had.
And he was going to sign my football.
So out we stepped from the leasing office to head that way, my football tucked smartly so I didn't fumble at his front door. I was a little nervous. This was royalty I was meeting, you understand. A real Dallas Cowboy.
The rest was hazy, but I remember the oddity of it all through my young eyes. I suspect my aunt hadn't confirmed the appointment; Doug didn't remember I was coming, it seemed. I do remember his wife being a bit put off, but she was buried in a room of laundry and little kids. It was still early in the morning on an offseason weekday.
Doug shook my hand, and I asked him to sign my ball. I forgot all of the questions I was going to ask. I think I convinced myself hed' answer the door in his uniform or something, but here he was, a dude and his family just doing was folks do. I think asked him a question or two, but I have no idea what.
In a flash, it was over. I was excited and confused. He wasn't the superhero I expected, but he was a nice, soft-spoken man who made time for me. Maybe It would have been a bigger deal if Too Tall was there hanging out, or if I interrupted his playbook study time. Maybe if I had asked the right questions. I must have choked.
I kept that ball for a few years in my room, but eventually, we wore out enough footballs - kids played sports outside all day back then - and it worked its way into action. The signature faded, and the ball vanished. Nothing left but child's memory in my adult mind.
Dennison played five years in Dallas, followed by a year in Cleveland, and a couple of stops in the CFL and USFL before hanging it up in 1984.
Today, he's 64 and living near Philadelphia where he grew up before attending Kutztown, the same school that Andre Reed played. (A google search turned up a story that he was arrested and jailed in 1993 after allegedly making sexual advancements to a 15-year-old girl on a track team he coached, but I found nothing of how the case turned out.)
I've met a lot of famous athletes over the years. I even live a few houses down from a few in my neighborhood. Such meetings don't affect mean anymore. They're just people. But you never forget your first anything, and Doug Dennison was the first Cowboy I ever saw in real life.
Wish I still had that football.
I was going to meet a Dallas Cowboy. He lived in apartments my aunt managed, and she'd cleared a stop-by for a visit and an autograph. My Cowboys craze was three years in its infancy, but I'd seen every single play of every game since Super Bowl VI.
Doug Dennison wasn't a name most remember, but he did see a lot of action. He got a healthy share in a committee of running backs that included Preston Pearson, Robert Newhouse, and Scott Laidlaw. Most importantly, he played for that team, with that coach, took handoffs from that quarterback, and played with my favorite player, Drew Pearson. Dennison was on my wall, #21 on the poster every kid of the 70s had.
And he was going to sign my football.
So out we stepped from the leasing office to head that way, my football tucked smartly so I didn't fumble at his front door. I was a little nervous. This was royalty I was meeting, you understand. A real Dallas Cowboy.
The rest was hazy, but I remember the oddity of it all through my young eyes. I suspect my aunt hadn't confirmed the appointment; Doug didn't remember I was coming, it seemed. I do remember his wife being a bit put off, but she was buried in a room of laundry and little kids. It was still early in the morning on an offseason weekday.
Doug shook my hand, and I asked him to sign my ball. I forgot all of the questions I was going to ask. I think I convinced myself hed' answer the door in his uniform or something, but here he was, a dude and his family just doing was folks do. I think asked him a question or two, but I have no idea what.
In a flash, it was over. I was excited and confused. He wasn't the superhero I expected, but he was a nice, soft-spoken man who made time for me. Maybe It would have been a bigger deal if Too Tall was there hanging out, or if I interrupted his playbook study time. Maybe if I had asked the right questions. I must have choked.
I kept that ball for a few years in my room, but eventually, we wore out enough footballs - kids played sports outside all day back then - and it worked its way into action. The signature faded, and the ball vanished. Nothing left but child's memory in my adult mind.
Dennison played five years in Dallas, followed by a year in Cleveland, and a couple of stops in the CFL and USFL before hanging it up in 1984.
Today, he's 64 and living near Philadelphia where he grew up before attending Kutztown, the same school that Andre Reed played. (A google search turned up a story that he was arrested and jailed in 1993 after allegedly making sexual advancements to a 15-year-old girl on a track team he coached, but I found nothing of how the case turned out.)
I've met a lot of famous athletes over the years. I even live a few houses down from a few in my neighborhood. Such meetings don't affect mean anymore. They're just people. But you never forget your first anything, and Doug Dennison was the first Cowboy I ever saw in real life.
Wish I still had that football.
