Almost isn't good enough

Everyone has a lot of "almosts" in their life. I almost went to OC instead of ACU. I almost decided to work before going to graduate school. I almost made my first C in Carl Brecheen's Family Relations class (ok, that one's not so good.) But today I had an almost that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I almost got to drive my favorite baseball player on the planet, Mark Teixiera at the Colonial Golf Tournament.

If you don't know already, I am spending this week driving Cadillacs between the Colonial Golf Tournament and the special parking lots that they have for valet parking, club members, VIPs, and caddys. The VIPs aren't really what you think, they are people like the marshalls for the tournament and the head of the transportation committee...nothing especially exciting. Today I was on blue lot duty, which is the valet lot. Instead of us bringing your car to you, we take you to your car about 3 blocks away. There were about 15 cadillac drivers today and to keep things orderly, we line up in our cars along the front of the clubhouse and take people as they come. Then the next person moves forward. It's basically your standard elementary school line format. So I was in line, moving forward, when all of a sudden I see a very tall, really hot guy. Then I realize that it is Mark Teixiera! I start going crazy because all at once I realize that I am about 20 feet from my favorite player ever and I am second - not first - in line! And I am positive that the girl who got to drive him had no appreciation for what she was getting to do! I was absolutely sick all day. And to make matters worse, my boss was standing at the front when the situation occured, so after I made it back around, I said "Do you know who that was?" He didn't. So I told him it was Mark Teixiera, my favorite baseball player and I missed him by one car. His response was, "You should have said something! I would have put him in your car!" So not only did I barely miss him, I could have done something about it. So the moral of this story is, if you ever get within 20 feet of your favorite athlete, forget protocol! Jump in line and stomp on whoever should rightly be in the presence of greatness, or you will be kicking yourself for years to come.