Tuesday, July 05, 2016
A Tribute to PJ Brown and all who have dodged the fanatical fan
Years ago I walked into a convenient store in Spring, Tx not far from a job I was returning to after lunch. It was a typically hot Texas day and I wanted a couple Gatorades and a bag of ice to put over some bottled waters for myself and my crew.
As soon as I entered the store my attention was drawn to an extremely large figure. He was almost seven feet tall, black with short cut hair. I recognized him immediately: "PJ Brown!" I said from across the store. PJ was with a small child, his daughter I guessed, and without looking up he responded, "Yep". He spoke to his daughter again, and seemed to urge her to pick out a candy so they could get on to the register and get out of there.
I rounded the end of the isle going towards the back cooler, but on a different path than one which would intersect his path. I had an understanding of his want to not have contact with me or anyone else in public; He was afraid I could be a rabid fan and potentially violent. He had his daughter with him.
PJ Brown is a basketball player who played with several NBA teams in his career. Tall and lanky, he was thin and frail looking when he entered the league in 1992, but he muscled up and became a reliable player for the several teams he was on. First with the Nets, then with the Heat, Hornets, Bulls and finally with the Celtics who, with the likes of Paul Pierce, Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett won a championship. With all those teams, PJ was a capable role-player. His job was rebounding and defense. He was recognized for his defense twice in his career. But he wasn't a superstar, and those are the players who get the "fanatical" fans the most.
Recently pop singer Christina Grimmie was shot and killed by a fan while she was signing autographs for a small group of fans after a show. More than ten years ago, "Dimebag" Darrel Abbott was shot while onstage performing. Both were killed by fanatics who waited in the crowd for their chance then shot and killed them. It is a security nightmare for the iconic superstar to walk close to fans, because the threat is implicit in the anonymity of the massive crowd, and it's not limited to performers. It includes politicians and sports stars too.
Fans come in all shapes, sizes and intensity. Some, such as myself are fans of passing interest. I watch basketball, I have a favorite team, but I don't live and die by their successes, nor do I seek to communicate with them in any way. I love music and I love to watch concerts and am interested when performers are included for some reason on the news. I am not fanatical about those people though. I don't envy their lives either, especially when in public. Aside from when they are performing or playing, they cannot have a public life. It must remain private, to avoid the fanatics who are in the public. The front row of every viewing area is crammed with fervent fans who got there early, secured their space and revel in the proximity to the greatness which is taking place on the stage directly to their front. The fanatical fan is one or two rows back, fantasizing about their proximity and the impact they could have on that "star"s life given the chance. Their own life being boring and repetitious, the fanatic sees the star's life and wants to be part of it.
I was once walking through an RV park inside a racetrack during a race weekend of Indy cars here in Houston. I was on my way to the paddock to get autographs when a golfcart came careening around the end of a large RV and swerved to miss me. The driver was Bobby Rahal. I knew Bobby because of his accomplishments: He was an Indy 500 winner, and a Championship driver who now owned his own team. "Mr. Rahal!", I shouted as he sped past. He hit the brakes and reversed. He was in a hurry but not so much as to give a few seconds of his time to a fan. He signed an Indy 500 hat and drove away. I've never forgotten his patience when he stopped where he was going and came back and spoke with me. He is truly a classy guy.
I found my Gatorades and grabbed a bag of ice and noticed PJ was at the register checking out. I walked towards the front and waited a few feet behind him as he and his daughter purchased several candy items and prepared to leave. "Are you still in the game?", I asked with respect. "Still in the game", he confirmed though he didn't look at me. "Thats good", I said as he held the door for his daughter and made his way out to the parking lot. "Nice to see you and good luck" I said as he left.
-katykarter
¶ 12:53 PM
As soon as I entered the store my attention was drawn to an extremely large figure. He was almost seven feet tall, black with short cut hair. I recognized him immediately: "PJ Brown!" I said from across the store. PJ was with a small child, his daughter I guessed, and without looking up he responded, "Yep". He spoke to his daughter again, and seemed to urge her to pick out a candy so they could get on to the register and get out of there.
I rounded the end of the isle going towards the back cooler, but on a different path than one which would intersect his path. I had an understanding of his want to not have contact with me or anyone else in public; He was afraid I could be a rabid fan and potentially violent. He had his daughter with him.
PJ Brown is a basketball player who played with several NBA teams in his career. Tall and lanky, he was thin and frail looking when he entered the league in 1992, but he muscled up and became a reliable player for the several teams he was on. First with the Nets, then with the Heat, Hornets, Bulls and finally with the Celtics who, with the likes of Paul Pierce, Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett won a championship. With all those teams, PJ was a capable role-player. His job was rebounding and defense. He was recognized for his defense twice in his career. But he wasn't a superstar, and those are the players who get the "fanatical" fans the most.
Recently pop singer Christina Grimmie was shot and killed by a fan while she was signing autographs for a small group of fans after a show. More than ten years ago, "Dimebag" Darrel Abbott was shot while onstage performing. Both were killed by fanatics who waited in the crowd for their chance then shot and killed them. It is a security nightmare for the iconic superstar to walk close to fans, because the threat is implicit in the anonymity of the massive crowd, and it's not limited to performers. It includes politicians and sports stars too.
Fans come in all shapes, sizes and intensity. Some, such as myself are fans of passing interest. I watch basketball, I have a favorite team, but I don't live and die by their successes, nor do I seek to communicate with them in any way. I love music and I love to watch concerts and am interested when performers are included for some reason on the news. I am not fanatical about those people though. I don't envy their lives either, especially when in public. Aside from when they are performing or playing, they cannot have a public life. It must remain private, to avoid the fanatics who are in the public. The front row of every viewing area is crammed with fervent fans who got there early, secured their space and revel in the proximity to the greatness which is taking place on the stage directly to their front. The fanatical fan is one or two rows back, fantasizing about their proximity and the impact they could have on that "star"s life given the chance. Their own life being boring and repetitious, the fanatic sees the star's life and wants to be part of it.
I was once walking through an RV park inside a racetrack during a race weekend of Indy cars here in Houston. I was on my way to the paddock to get autographs when a golfcart came careening around the end of a large RV and swerved to miss me. The driver was Bobby Rahal. I knew Bobby because of his accomplishments: He was an Indy 500 winner, and a Championship driver who now owned his own team. "Mr. Rahal!", I shouted as he sped past. He hit the brakes and reversed. He was in a hurry but not so much as to give a few seconds of his time to a fan. He signed an Indy 500 hat and drove away. I've never forgotten his patience when he stopped where he was going and came back and spoke with me. He is truly a classy guy.
I found my Gatorades and grabbed a bag of ice and noticed PJ was at the register checking out. I walked towards the front and waited a few feet behind him as he and his daughter purchased several candy items and prepared to leave. "Are you still in the game?", I asked with respect. "Still in the game", he confirmed though he didn't look at me. "Thats good", I said as he held the door for his daughter and made his way out to the parking lot. "Nice to see you and good luck" I said as he left.
-katykarter
¶ 12:53 PM
