Those who truly know me understand that my favorite athlete of all time is Walter Payton. Walter played for the Chicago Bears from 1975 through 1987 and retired as the National Football League’s all time leading rusher. Among his many accomplishments was a Super Bowl championship won in 1985, elected to the NFL Hall of Fame in 1993, and played on 9 Pro Bowl teams. But Payton was much more than a great football player, he was an incredible person. He proved this to me when a chance encounter brought me face to face with “Sweetness”.

One Sunday morning in 1984, my family and I were having brunch at the Arlington Park Hilton Hotel. Being only nine years old, I was the youngest of the group and probably was making life difficult for the rest of the group. My cousin Tom and Laura, being very close in age to each other and a few years older than I, took it upon themselves to tease me at regular intervals. Tom’s older sister, Karen usually looked out for me since our parents said, “Oh, that’s nice” whenever I was picked on, harassed, or put in a figure four leg lock. You get the idea.

Anyway, for once Frick and Frack decided to leave me alone and went off to find the hotel’s video arcade. It was during this time that our waitress, probably seeing that I was almost bored to tears listening to my mom and my aunt go back and forth about stuff that just wasn’t as important as “Ghostbusters” or “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom”, announced that Walter Payton and his agent used her hotel for meetings quite a bit and suggested that he may be in today for such an occasion.

Well this certainly brightened up my day. Even if he wasn’t coming in, the thought of fleeing my family until our food arrived was enough to get me excited. But of course, I was nine and even in those days, you couldn’t just wander off for fear of being abducted, given candy with razor blades in them, or being run over by a bell hop. So Karen was enlisted to protect me from villains and the concierge and we headed for the lobby.

Apparently “Sweetness” and I were on the same time table because no sooner did we get into the lobby, he and his agent were walking in from outside. This was the most amazing thing I had seen or done up to this point in my entire life. I probably pointed at him like a compass points towards north and shouted, “oooooh, oooooh, ooooh!” at the top of my lungs. I didn’t care. He was my hero and now I was finally meeting him.

Here is the thing about meeting your heroes. At that moment, they have full control over how you will perceive them for the rest of your life. For those brief few minutes of interaction, Walter became an even greater person in my eyes than ever before. I don’t remember what we talked about exactly. I do remember that we had on the same exact type of shoes. Roos, remember them? The ones with the little zipper pocket on the sides? Hey, it was 1984! You’re lucky I wasn’t wearing a red leather jacket and “Purple Rain” t-shirt. I wasn’t, you’ll have to trust me.

But it wasn’t what we talked about that was important. It was that he took the time to take five minutes out of his day to chat with a kid who looked up to him as THE best football player who has ever lived. He could have easily signed a piece of paper and sent me on my way. He could have had his agent push me aside and tell me that they were in a rush. He didn’t. Walter reached out and gave his time to a nine year old who would have tried to tackle him just to meet him; as long as I stayed away from his stiff arm. At that moment, Walter solidified himself as my hero: past, present, and future. No one could ever take that feeling away from me.

After we said our goodbyes, I remember going back to our table feeling on top of the world. Of course, I proclaimed “I met Walter Payton!” or something to that effect and the rest of my family was pleased that I was so excited. But not Tom and Laura, who were playing Pac-Man or Centipede or Asteroids in the game room while I was meeting a living legend…“No you didn’t!” “You’re lying!” Karen and I just smiled at each other, knowing for once that we got the upper hand on this one!

This year marks the 10th anniversary of Walter’s untimely passing at the age of 45 from the rare liver disease: primary sclerosing cholangitis. I remember it vividly like the passing of a close friend or family member. I mourned his passing and even thought about paying tribute to him by switching my jersey number from 39 to 34. “That’s Walter’s number. It will ALWAYS be Walter’s number,” I told myself before talking myself out of it.

Walter Payton was a true hall of famer, both on the gridiron and in the community. He is arguably one of the best running backs of all time and could be considered as the best overall football player of all time. But even more important to all of this, he will always be my hero.

Thank you, Walter. Your friend, Chris.