Over the years my employment has required a great deal of interaction with people in the public eye. Most people who ask what so-and-so is really like would be disapointed to discover the truth. It's never my job to tell it.
My role requires discretion and patience, two qualities which become more necessary on my side of the equation when the "celebrity" has neither. Ocassionally I have been a fly on the wall in the process, surprised to be treated like a human being. Other times, I'm holding a large portion of the "subject's" reputation in my hands and have been treated like less than an insect. It's the price of admission.
I've worked directly, and in some cases repeatedly, with professional athletes in all four major sports leagues for about 15 years now. Of the dozens I've dealt with only two (both professional golfers) have scored the hat trick of genuine, nice person.
Until today.
Professional athletes are Buffalo's warriors, our link with the big time and our unbowed hope for glory. This city is proud to go overboard for jock royalty and all gets laid at their feet.
This morning as I knelt on the ice of HSBC checking the light for photos I was about to take with some of our SABAH skaters, my attention was centered on the kids -- three gorgeous, challenged children whose smiles were sure to outshine the copy on the donation letter I'm writing.
I expected the "celebrity" to arrive late, paste up a smile and provide me with a walking billboard in the form of his jersey to allow me to visually give credit to his organization for all they are doing for SABAH.
Chris Drury arrived on time and immediately focused on the children. One little boy was intimidated by the experience and pulled away from the scene with tears. Practice would be starting shortly and I quickly shifted attention to shots with the other two children (that's why you request a pair and a spare). But Drury stayed with the cryer... told him his son had Shrek gloves too. I didn't have to ask him to bend down the children's level, he crunched himself into the goal behind them.
No one can be in his line of work without knowing a little something about camera angles, but he used what he knew to showcase the children -- talking to them continuously.
This wasn't the standard "hey-kids-you're-great-and-my-agent-says-community-involvement-will-help-our-next-contract" this was a good guy.
Some of my more cerebral friends do not understand the concept of being a sports fan -- seeing professional sports as an overpaid "opiate of the masses." I don't live and die by the box scores, but have always identified with my home town teams no matter where I lived.
And this morning Mr. Drury made me feel pretty darn good about my hockey team and my town.

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs