Karl Malone and Me

So Karl Malone just had his jersey and number retired by the Utah Jazz. Sure he was a good basketball player, but I'll always remember him for the time he made me breakfast.

What? You haven't heard this story? Well, sit down, pull up a Diet Coke, and let me tell you how cool I am...

I was staying at his wife's bed & breakfast one weekend, and after I'd enjoyed the "bed" part of the deal, I went downstairs for the other half. As I'm going down the stairs, I hear a familiar voice. It's a melodic, Louisiana drawlesque voice. Descending the last flight of stairs I first see the shoes. Ski's might be a more accurate description, but whatever-size-shoe it was, it was BIG! Then came the calves. Sure, most of us would call them thighs, but I assure you, my eyes had not reached the knee level yet. Then the Clydesdale thighs came into view, and I think I actually considered going back upstairs, afraid maybe my AMEX didn't clear and he was waiting to kick the living money out of me.

I pressed forward. Only 4 steps to go. Down I went, to be met, face to sternum with Karl Malone, smiling broadly down at me, telling me "good morning!" He then proceeded to ask me what I wanted for breakfast. I chuckled stupidly. He asked me again, and again I chuckled, thinking surely he had to be joking. Finally, slowing his voice down, obviously believing I was in some way retarded or unable to communicate in English, he told me that his wife had called in a panic that morning saying her cook had called in sick, and Karl had volunteered to come and cook breakfast.

So finally convinced an NBA All-Star Power Forward was about to make me breakfast, I still stuttered. He asked me what I'd like, and I smoothly said something, rather retardedly like, "I don't know, what are you good at?"

He went into the kitchen, proceeded to make eggs, bacon and toast, serve it, and then sit down with his wife and chat with about the events of the day and week while I ate and acted like I was served breakfast every day of the week by an NBA All-Star and probably make sufficient comments to completely assure him I was, in fact, retarded.

So to Karl Malone, I say well done! Well done cooking those eggs, bacon and toast. Oh, and good job on that basketball thing you did.