There are times when one gets to experience a brush with greatness. I have always cherished those moments, as infrequent as they may be in the grand scheme of life, to say thanks to someone who I admire for their accomplishments. But there is one close encounter I will never forget.

I am a huge baseball fan. I love not only the sport as it is played out between two teams on any given day of summer, but the stories and history of the game as well.

Several years ago, the promoter of a regional sportscard and memorabelia show, Ray Mozingo, phoned me to ask a favor. It seems that one of his signing guests might need a ride to the airport after the event ended. I said I would be honored to help him without even knowing who needed that ride. The mere fact that a historical sports figure would be in my car for even a few minutes was sufficient for me.

I found out a couple of days later that the guest would be one of the ten or so members of the Negro League who Ray had secured for autograph sessions. Now I was really excited. Then I found out who it was -- Monte Irvin himself.

Not only are we talking about a great Negro League player for the Newark Eagles, but also a great Major League figure and Hall of Famer. He was one of the leaders of the New York Giants team from 1949 through 1955. Had it not been for a series of events involving a recuperation period from a war injury and some contract nonsense, Mr. Irvin would have been the first black player in the Major Leagues ahead of Jackie Robinson. It doesn't get any better than this, or so I thought.

On the day of the show, I was ready to take Mr. Irvin to the Raleigh-Durham airport about ten minutes away from the show building. Then it got even more exciting. We weren't going to RDU, we were going to Greensboro -- a 75 minute drive. That's over an hour, hour-and-a-half if I drove slowly, in the car with one of the greatest players in the history of the game! So I thought again, it doesn't get any better than this. Boy was I wrong.

We got in the car together along with his wife, Dee, and began our drive. Then the talking began. I had thought we would spend well over an hour discussing baseball history. I had read his book and was interested in him filling in some of the minutia that invariably gets left out of a memoir. We didn't talk baseball for one second.

We talked about almost everything else under the sun. Growing up in Alabama. His time in New Jersey, my home state. How to grow the proper tomato plant in a sandy Florida backyard. We argued over which grocery store had the best meat selection. We talked cars, restaurants, and hobbies. It was the most facinating time I had ever spent with one individual. In the meantime, Dee had made the "executive decision" to nap in the back seat so she didn't contribute much to the conversation. Until we got to Greensboro.

It seems that we would not be going to the airport after all, but rather to Mr. Irvin's brother's house where Mr. and Mrs. Irvin would be spending the night. As I dropped them off, I was invited in to spend some time and get something to drink. I walked into the house and was standing face to face with the brother of Monte Irvin, Cal.

Cal is one of the greatest college basketball coaches in the history of the CIAA. He was at NC A&T for 18 years ending with a record that placed him in the CIAA *and* MEAC Hall of Fame.

For the next two hours, I had the privelege of listening to them catch up, talk about childhood stories, and watched as two of the greatest sports figures in modern history acted like the close brothers they are. Kathryn, Cal's wife, and Dee joined in to "correct" some of the tales being told just to keep the record straight. It was getting late and I had to leave, but I left with four new friends and the memory of what sports should be all about -- fun diversions from the fun of life.

And it doesn't get any better than that.