I love Kurt Warner. If you don’t love Kurt Warner you are a big dumb idiot. He seems like a genuinely decent family man who is more than likely a delight to be around. If that wasn’t enough, he also didn’t even become a household name until he was almost 30 after years toiling away in the now-defunct NFL Europe and the Arena League. Did he do something of note lately? Is he involved in some sort of scandal? Why am I talking about a guy who hasn’t played in over a decade? Stop asking questions. Football is over and baseball hasn’t started yet. I have a story to tell.
The Story, As I Remember
When I was a little kid in Iowa, Kurt Warner was playing for the local Arena Football team. They were named Iowa Barnstormers because, of course, they were. We really do not do ourselves any favors when trying to dispel the stereotype of Iowa being a bunch of cornfields filled with overall-wearing farmers but whatever.
I had gone to the local Hy-Vee grocery store with my dad. The same Hy-Vee where I later in life got drunk and dove into a pyramid of toilet paper and was subsequently chased out of by a man I can neither confirm nor deny was Randy Johnson. It looked like this but with toilet paper, you get it:
Anyways, when we walked in, sitting quietly with his hands folded at some broke ass folding table was Kurt Warner. We had not come to see Mr. Warner, it was just a simple trip to get some groceries, as one typically does when venturing to a grocery store. I watched as people walked past him, unaware of who this guy was surrounded by stacks of cards and pictures of himself. I was one of those people. I had no clue who this schmuck was. Then, something happened. It was one of the first and only times in my life that I experienced what I believe is known as empathy. My dad still talks about it to this day when I’m being extra sociopathic.
Guilt Is A Powerful Emotion
I felt so bad for this fool just sitting there. He must have been dying inside but he sat there, sitting up straight, a smile on his face, as one after another people ignored him and went about their fast-paced Iowan lives. I had to do something. I went over, told him I was a huge fan and would love an autograph. I didn’t know who the hell this dude was but I couldn’t stand to see someone so humiliated. Plus it was free so who cares. He could not have been nicer.
We chatted for a second, he signed a Barnstormers card, with what I could only assume was him on the front, and my dad and I went about our shopping trip. As we walked away, my dad asked if I really knew who he was. No clue, I responded, as I tossed him the card, presumably never thinking about this interaction again.
Little did that adolescent idiot know, this man would eventually become a Super Bowl-winning quarterback who led one of the most exciting offenses ever to take the field. See below to prove I’m not a liar.
There wasn’t really a point to this other than it made me laugh. Big ups to my parents for keeping the card all these years so I could share it with strangers.
Also, FIRST SPRING TRAINING GAME STARTS NEXT WEEK.
- / 1 year ago
To me, Rachel Nichols is the personification of posting a black square on Instagram.