4.20.2005

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He was sweet, in a lost puppy sort of way. I'd often root for him while observing him in action, but he often just kept to himself. I thought I saw on occasion a glimpse around, looking to see if anyone was going to come to talk to him.

"Oh come on!" I'd call out to the television. "Go play with him! Someone go be nice!"

And then I found myself in the same room as him on a Wednesday morning. The rest of the crowd was bustling about in the middle of the room. Camera flashes, big grins, promises of a better tomorrow and whatnot. I had to admit that it was exciting and a little heady to be there, getting my photo op with someone I'd known of for so many years, but it was a bit overwhelming.

I wanted to step back and watch it all unfold for a few moments. It appeared he did too.

He stood in the corner, near the door, his hands folded in front of him politely. He was watching the others carry on, but made no effort to get in the middle of it. He'd already said his peace, posed for his photographs. He was just there for moral support now.

I smiled politely as I approached and stood next to him against the wall. He nodded with a smile and asked how I was doing.

"I'm well, sir, thank you," I said. I introduced myself and shook his hand (much more weathered than I had expected). "It's such a pleasure to meet you."

We chatted about our hometowns, as his neighbored my own, and he asked if I was enjoying my time there. I naturally replied that I was and he said it was a great experience for anyone from "back home." He was a little bumbly in his conversational skills, as if he knew what to say to someone he didn't know, but wasn't overly practiced. I liked that about him.

And then we just stood there. He didn't feel the need to chat about nothing like everyone else tended to do. We both contentedly watched from our places - not on the sidelines, but not in the middle of the game. Just close enough to understand the potential of what was unfolding.

I still have the photo from meeting the other guy, but I think more often of the short conversation with this man.

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