My Encounter with Goose & The Necessity of Sports Heroes

Forgive the not-so-humble brag, but I’ve lived a charmed, Forrest-Gumpian existence, having rubbed shoulders with Presidents, movie stars, and my full share of the rich and famous types so adored by our celebrity-worshipping culture.  I’ve also endured many extraordinarily stressful situations, ranging from national TV interviews to intense world poker tournaments.

But when I ran into my childhood hero this afternoon, I immediately regressed into a bumbling, stumbling pre-teen.

Jack “Goose” Givens was the star player on my favorite sports team, the 1977-78 national champion University of Kentucky Wildcats.  In his final 40 minutes in a blue and white uniform, Goose scored a near-record 41 points to clinch the NCAA championship, forever sealing him in this then-10-year-old’s mind as the greatest human to walk the earth.

Just this afternoon, I ran into Givens in front of a Lexington restaurant.  “Goose?” I asked.  He warmly smiled.  I can’t remember anything else I said, although I seem to recall a few mutterings about his picture still being on my wall, forever sealing me in his mind as a deranged stalker.

In the wake of recent scandals involving sports icons Lance Armstrong, Alex Rodriguez, Ray Lewis, and now Oscar Pistorius, there’ve been plenty of agonized news stories like this and this that highlight the danger of placing too much faith and confidence in our near-worship of talented athletes, who too often fall far short of the idealized vision we have of their character and integrity.

But in my sophomoric glee in my brief encounter today with my own childhood hero, I was reminded of how important a role sports plays in our own sense of innocence, even for a cynical, middle-age recovering politician.  In an otherwise hectic, stressful day, I was transported to a special time in my life, one that I shared closely with my beloved late father, when superheroes did exist, and magic was possible.  And I will endure all of the stories of steroids and sexual escapades, if but just for a few more brief moments of that special brand of nostalgia for myself, my daughters and their children.