Green Bay Packers: My Favourite Players Met

I am doing three editions of my favourite Packers; on two other sites, I have written about my favourite Packers on the current team and those not on it who I saw play.

In this edition, I write about my favourite Packers whom I have personally met. None of them would remember me, mind you, but I have met them, and that is a qualification for their presence on this list. As a matter of fact, since I have done three for each of my series and have only met three former Packers, it is the only qualification.

For this reason, I considered broadening the scope to include those with indirect but strong connections. For instance, as a sportswriter for the Daily Mining Gazette in Houghton, MI, my brother was the last person to interview Ray Nitschke before he passed on. He also got me a personalized No. 80 jersey with James Lofton's name on the back because he had a chance to get the Packers great to sign it.

But then where do I draw the line? I have a framed Vince Lombardi autograph, my father met other Packers, my wife gave directions to Jason Spitz's parents when they were lost in the Hayes Valley neighbourhood right here in San Francisco...this could get ridiculous.

Thus, I will simply name the three I have personally met in order of least to most favourite...

Honourable mention

David Beverly was the first person I got an autograph from. He lived across the street from the husband of my third cousin, and every once in a while we would go up there to take advantage of his season tickets. I am not even sure how old I was (maybe eight years old?), but my dad took me across the street to meet him and get his autograph.

In case you are wondering who the heck he is, he was a punter (and not a very good one, averaging under 40 yards per punt all but one season—but he was four of six for 129 yards on passes from fake punts!) for the team from 1975-1980. From what I remember, he was gracious but perhaps inconvenienced by my presence.

Runner-up

Bob Long used to own the trailer park I grew up in (that's right, I am the ultimate hick!), and one summer he came out to join in our Fourth of July picnic. (We always had a big corn roast because the park was managed by the family of the farmer up the street, who had the best corn in Southeastern Wisconsin—Ingersoll Farms, and they have stands set up in Oconomowoc and Wales if you are ever in the area!)

However, I honestly did not know who this man was, so it was a bigger deal for my father and grandfather than a 10-year old (I think!) kid.

Blue Ribbon winner

Bart Starr is a class act. I was an impudent little brat who did not know the greatness he was being graced with and only really knew Starr as a lousy coach (which he was). Hence, when Starr was making small-talk with a wheelchair-bound relative of mine, I made a smart remark about how she could scoot better than he could scramble, and he remained graceful.

In years to come, he heaped praise upon Brett Favre when others may have felt threatened or diminished by the accolades being sent the young quarterback's way. He worked tirelessly for the Rawhide Boys Ranch to help disadvantaged boys be taught a trade so they could lift themselves out of their situation. He publicly offered support for coach Tony Dungy, whose son committed suicide, having lost his own son (ironically named Bret) in 1988.

And of course he was a 17th-round draft pick who won five NFL championships and played almost flawlessly in two Super Bowls. While I believe much of his success was a product of the supporting cast, there is no doubt he was a champion and a leader, as well as one of the game's all-time over-achievers.

The crime is that when I met him I did not have this appreciation for him—a great player but a greater person.