A friend of mine just told me he's getting married. When he gave me the news I immediately thought of the time we were in Scottsdale at spring training, because it's the best pickup story I've ever been a party to. It was about nine years ago, and I actually forget the bar. But my friend was seriously putting the moves on this somewhat attractive young woman, who was wearing leather pants and had a leather jacket draped over her lap. They had been chatting at the bar for about an hour, and my friend thought he was in the house. I had never seen someone work so hard for a score.

But just as he was putting on the finishing touches, Chris Berman walks by. And without even breaking stride, Berman looks at the girl, points and says "You're with me, leather." And the girl looks up, instantly recognizes Berman, snatches up her jacket and walks out with him, leaving my friend in mid-sentence.

Because we made another call to independently confirm this tale, "You're with me, leather," now officially enters the pantheon of Chris Bermanisms, of which there were probably several more uttered later during the evening in question. Yeah, we should have noted earlier that this thing gets really horrifying if you think about it too much.

My friend attended Xavier University while James Posey was there and told me about a conversation he overheard between Posey and a teammate (whose name I can't remember at this time) at a dining hall ice cream machine. As my friend told the story, the guy was making himself an ice cream cone from the soft serve machine with Posey waiting to follow suit. The soft serve was taking a lot of time, and prompted the guy to say to Posey, "Man, this ice cream is THICK!" Posey responded, "Thick like my dick."

Not quite as great as the Ben Gordon story, but good for an afternoon giggle.

Marcus Fizer's Lack Of Ones [Deadspin]

(Even though we're not running two of them a day anymore, we're still soliciting athlete run-in stories. Send us your best ones at tips@deadspin.com.)

Marcus agreed with us and told his teammates that the plan had fell through. He then proceeded to sneak up to our room and enjoy the entertainment. It was quite the scene, a late thirties stripper with her best days behind her trapsing around our hotel room naked. It was six white kids from Iowa and one large future all-american in the room, you can guess who got the most attention.

Full story after the jump.

While in high school I was playing on an AAU basketball team from the state of Iowa. We were in Charlotte, North Carolina for the AAU National Tournament. During our time in the south some members of our team had recognized Marcus Fizer, then a senior from Louisiana. His team was staying in the same hotel as our team. He had signed to play for Iowa State and we struck up a friendship with him.

Many of the players on our team had traveled to the tournament with no parental supervision. So we did what any red blooded American kids would do. We called a stripper service and had an entertainer come to our hotel room to put on a show.

We informed Marcus of our decision and let him know we would like him to join us if he would like to do so. The morning of the festivities we talked to Marcus. He said he planned on coming and bringing some teammates with him — for the most part their names escape me, the only one I can remember is Dion Glover. We told him it was a private party and that he was welcome to come but we didn't want everyone involved and draw the attention of our coaches who were staying down the hall from us.

Marcus agreed with us and told his teammates that the plan had fell through. He then proceeded to sneak up to our room and enjoy the entertainment. It was quite the scene, a late thirties stripper with her best days behind her trapsing around our hotel room naked. It was six white kids from Iowa and one large future all-american in the room, you can guess who got the most attention.

Long story short it was night me and my buddies will never forget. And as a side note- Marcus is a great guy but he showed up with no money and still owes me and my friends some dollar bills.

Athlete Run-In: Nick The Quick Knows What Ladies Like [Deadspin]

Today's last one is about everybody's favorite Spur — he's on the Spurs now, apparently — Nick Van Exel.

A few years back when I was living in Denver, I was at the local neighborhood liquor store grabbing a few beers to watch football. I was walking down towards the check out line when I noticed a guy with a cart full of Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, Corona, and ton of florescent green bottles of what looked like some type of wine cooler. I started walking towards him, and he — Nick Van Exel — turned around with a huge grin on his face and looked at me looking at the green bottles. He said, "You need some of this...dis is the shit that makes all the girls horny!" I laughed and kept on walking.

Yeah, thanks, man ... but what was in the green bottles?

Athlete Run-In: El-Amin And His Sandwich [Deadspin]

While attending UConn, I ran into then-stud point guard Kahlid El-Amin at a sandwich shop on the edge of campus, Ted's. Khalid and one of the basketball team managers were in line in front of me chatting it up with the guy working. I assumed they were either friends or frequent patrons, taking a second look at Khalid's build, I figured the latter. Khalid had ordered some form of chicken cutlet sub. His final instructions to the guy working were to add mayo, and "Spread it on." The employee proceeded to add mayo and use a little knife to spread it out. Khalid responds, "NO. SPREAAAAD it on." The guy uses the knife again to further spread it out. Again, Khalid shouts "SPREAAAAAAAAAAD IT ON !!!" The guy looks at Khalid and asks, "I'm spreading it on ... what the f*** do you want me to do?" Khalid responds, "You know SPREAAAAD IT ON, put a lot on there...a lot more." Clearly frustrated with the sandwich ordering practices perhaps common in Minnesota, the employee proceeded to empty the mayonaisse bottle he had ready on the sandwich. Khalid smiled and successfully maintained his athletic figure.

Somehow, we imagine Khalid doing this at halftime too.

Athlete Run-In: On Call For Antonio [Deadspin]

When I was in high school I was on the cheerleading team. Gay, I know, but it helped get me to where I am today because it was my first chance to get before an audience. A girl from the team was bragging that she had begun dating Antonio Freeman of our much beloved Green Bay Packers. At the time the Packers were making their first huge Super Bowl run, and the town was in love with the Packers and all who played for them. Antonio had fitted her with a beeper, to keep her at his call any time. One Tuesday evening we were hanging out, and she got a call. He wanted her to come over and bring a three-piece meal of white meat chicken from KFC with her. Since my friend didn t have a car, she asked me to give her a ride, which I was happy to do; I wanted to meet Antonio Freeman for quite some time. We ventured to KFC, procured the meal and then went to Freeman s place, which was a duplex. I coaxed my friend into letting me come with her to the door, rather than just drop her off. So we went to the door and knocked. After about 20 seconds, Antonio Freeman answered, completely naked and talking on a cordless phone in what was a very important conversation. We ventured inside and shut the door behind us and Freeman went in the other room. He came out a minute later still talking on the phone, still naked, but this time working on an all white meat chicken breast. Then he ventured into the kitchen for what I hoped was a towel.

I just split. I couldn t imagine asking for an autograph.

We're gonna take a break from the athlete run-in stories for a while after tomorrow, so if you're wanting to get yours in, this is your last chance for a while.

Athlete Run-In: The '72 Dolphins Get Even More Desperate [Deadspin]

So a few years back, my neighborhood had one of those major "block sales" that included several streets in my area. Always willing to unload junk, I set up shop. At about 9:00, some guy walks up to me and asks if I had any old football cards. I told him that what I had out was mostly late 80's-early 90's stuff, but I'd see what I could do for him. I ask him if there's anything in particular he's looking for, and he tells me that he's looking for his old football cards. Intrigued, I ask him who he was.

It was Jim Kiick. I thought he was pulling my leg at first so I went along with it. I mean, why would a member of the '72 Dolphins show up at my house, especially during a friggin yard sale? When he left, I bolted into the house and went looking for Jim Kiick pictures on the Internet, preferably a new one since this Jim Kiick was clean shaven, but the early 70's he was one hairy SOB. Fortunately, I was able to find one of him signing at a card show. It was him.

Since it was a neighborhood sale, I was able to track him down walking down another street. Being that I live in the suburbs of Trenton, football celebrities aren't that common, so I had to ask him what he was doing around here. He said he was in a partnership with Ron Jaworski in a local firm, and he was walking around with Joe Pisarcik. He never did come back for the cards, but I think he was just dropping his name to see if younger folk like myself ever heard of him.

We imagine every member of the 1972 Dolphins doing this, every weekend, at every garage sale.

Athlete Run-In: Kirk Hinrich, Gryffindor [Deadspin]

I have a good friend whose roommate is a bit of a sloot. She is originally from Pittsburgh and has done the party in my pants dance with a couple of Steelers. Not long ago we were out at a bar in Chicago, and Kirk and his buddies were hitting on her pretty hard. She honestly had no idea who he was and must have told him to get a life two or three times. Then he pulled the whole, "Do you know who I am?" line. Swear to God. I've been around professional athletes a ton, and I've actually never heard one use this until that night.

She proceeds to say, ""I have no idea who you are, but you look like Harry Potter on steroids ... get a haircut." And then walked away.

Oof.

Athlete Run-In: The Mystery Of The Mustache [Deadspin]

Full story after jump, because it's long, but here's a highlight.

"Can I ask you a question...how long have you had that mustache?" I inquired, genuinely interested.

"Uhh...for a while now. As long as I can remember," hereplied, in what I recognize in hindsight as flabbergastedness.

We're not sure "flabbergastedness" is a word, but we like it, nonetheless. Enjoy the rest after the jump.

(Oh, and we can't get enough of Donny Baseball's sweater in that photo, by the way.)

Time: Around Midnight. Weekday. Sometime during the 2004 season, I think.
Place: Ray's Famous Pizza, 95th Street and 2nd Avenue, New York City.

So, my BoSox just got done beating the Yankees up in the Bronx while I watched and downed beers at my local watering hole, when a hunger came over me. I decided to drop by the Ray's around the corner for a slice to blanket tomorrow's hangover. As I entered the otherwise empty pizzeria, no indication of the events that were about to unfold could be noticed. Not more than 30 seconds later a guy comes in and asks for a large cheese pizza to be made fresh. He's wearing a Yankees' cap pulled way down, but I can make out that signature mustache.

I look at him and come straight out and ask, "Are you Don Mattingly?" He grins in a pleased and grateful sort of way. I exclaim to the guy serving us, who I know is from Guatemala with no baseball knowledge, if he knows who this is, as I gesture open-handed to baseball greatness. The pizza guy shakes his head "no." "This is Donny Baseball! MAN!!! This is crazy. Donny Baseball!" I nearly shout as my hand smacks forehead.

"I just got done watching the game an hour ago. That's too bad about tonight. Well...not that bad. I'm a Sox fan," I said pointing to my t-shirt. Donny Baseball nodded, and I immediately realized the error of my ways so I went about correcting it by changing the subject.

"So...Donny Baseball! I can't say I like your organization, but I've always respected you as a player and coach." No response. Damn! (thoughts: must change subject further.)

"Can I ask you a question...how long have you had that mustache?" I inquired, genuinely interested.

"Uhh...for a while now. As long as I can remember," he replied, in what I recognize in hindsight as flabbergastedness.

"Wow..." I said while looking around the pizzeria to see if anyone else had entered, so I could share my Donny Baseball moment with someone.

At that, he promptly told the pizza guy he would wait for the pie in his double-parked car out front. He handed the guy a twenty and said to bring the pizza out when it was ready.

By that time, my slice was placed in front of me and I sat smiling at it, shaking my head, and quietly whispering to myself, "Wow...Donny baseball."

Athlete Run-In: Chad Johnson's Side Job [Deadspin]

So a friend of mine was at Best Buy on Saturday, only to fortuitously stand behind Chad Johnson of the Cincinnati Bengals in the checkout line. What is even funnier than my sackless goat of a friend's hesitance to say hello was the fact that the retail clerk was utterly oblivious to the identity of the person in her check-out line. After scanning Chad Johnson's items and after he handed her his credit card, she replied, "Oh, Mr. Johnson, you haven't signed the back of your card. I'll need to see your ID." Chad Johnson handed her his driver's license (a Florida driver's license; no doubt for the nice tax benefit that comes with Florida citizenship), and the clerk responded, "Florida, huh? What are you doing up here?" To which Chad cheekily responded, "Working at McDonald's."

The only response from the retail clerk: "That's cool."

Seriously. We think Chad Johnson should guest-edit our site sometime.

Athlete Run-In: Chris Simms, Truckin' [Deadspin]
CJ Sighting [Positively Verisimilitude-esque]

It was a few years ago when Simms was Texas' QB and the team didn't get much respect, especially because they kept getting pounded by OU. It was about 4 a.m. in Austin, which if you know Austin means there's a steady migration from downtown back to campus (post hook-up, late night grubbin', etc. after Sixth Street shuts down). We were standing outside his dorm at Dobie near the parking garage just off Guadalupe. He sees a tricked-out white escalade making its way up the street and going into the parking garage. Behind the wheel is none other than Simms. The car's going too fast though and bumps up right into the ceiling on the low-clearance garage crumpling the top of his car. The door opens and out comes Simms, looking pretty damned surprised. Now, we didn't give him a breathalyzer or anything, but Simms looked pretty drunk and he got confirmation when Simms looked at us and said "Did that thing hit me? Or did I hit it?" I like to imagine Simms saying that each time he gets knocked down in Tampa Bay.

This, by the way, is all David Carr says, all the time, over and over.

Athlete Run-In: Helping Clinton Portis Score [Deadspin]

This past March a couple of my friends and me were taking a week vacation in Miami. We ran into a couple of athletes on South Beach; we saw Kellen Winslow and his boys walking on the beach. (Ed. Note: Or, you know, crutching on the beach.) We took a picture of Shaq. But this story is about Deadspin s favorite NFL costume wearer Clinton Portis. One night my friends and I decided, instead of waiting in line for two hours to try and get into a club, we would walk up and down South Beach. As we were walking, one of my friends spotted Clinton Portis talking to a very attractive lady. Since I am a diehard Redskin fan, my friends told me I should go up say something to him. At first I said no, because I did not want to embarrass myself — and I didn't want to mess his game up. But two other guys walked by him, and they spoke to him and Portis shook their hands. After seeing that, I figured that I had nothing to lose. Apparently Portis had just approached the lady, and she did not recognize him; I think she knew he was a player, but I think she thought he was a backup or something. I told him I was a diehard Redskins fan, and he shook my hand and said thanks. He was really cool and friendly about the whole situation considering I approached him as he was talking to a lady. As I was walking back to my friends, I overheard the lady say, "So people do know who you are!" I think I helped Clinton Portis get laid.

Funny, one would think she would recognize him by the, you know, huge heart-shaped glasses.

Athlete Run-In: Bill Wennington Should Duck Better [Deadspin]

(As always, we remind you, we are always taking more athlete run-in stories at tips@deadspin.com)

I used to go to Bill Wennington basketball camp every summer when I was little. That bastard Derek Harper wanted too much money, so Bill was all we could afford. Brad Davis would always make a stop by the camp, and every year they would play a game in front of everyone where they would start at the opposite baselines, run down the court and hit a layup and run back and hit one. The first one to do this won. The loser would get against the wall, and the winner would throw a basketball at him, usually hitting him in the butt and everyone would have a good laugh; this was the apex of coolness to my 10 year-old reality. On this particular day, we (the campers) were all lined up across the court to watch. As they started, Davis got ahead and won; the competition was not about towel-waving, so he seemed to normally have the upper hand. After he had won, Bill got up against the wall; Davis, apparently having some sort of bad day for reason unbeknowst to me, reared back and threw the ball as hard as he could at Wennington s head, dropping him to the floor. As Bill laid there on the ground, all the shocked campers were told to go get a drink and move along. Davis just left the court, not even checking on Big Bill. At the time this did not seem that strange, but it gets weirder every time I think about it.

We are shocked by this story: Bill Wennington had his own basketball camp?

Athlete Run-In: Blocking Derek Lowe [Deadspin]

It's common knowledge in Boston that the players like to hit the bars after games. While some made a name for themselves last year with their boozing (just take a look at the pics from "On the DL"), none were as infamous as Derek Lowe in his time here. His lifestyle has been well chronicled since his departure from the city, but most people knew what was going on. One of my sister's friends saw Derek pitch a few years back. He threw real well and got the win. After the game, my sister's friend went to Landsdowne Street. For the people that don't know, that's the street directly behind the wall or "green monster" with a bunch of clubs and bars. He was standing in one of the places when an already drunk DLowe stumbled in with two girls under his arms... neither of which was his GORGEOUS wife. He approaches Derek to have this convo: Friend: Hey Derek, great game tonight. You pitched well. Lowe: (slurring) Thanks man. Friend: I wonder if your wife and kids were watching. Lowe: (expletive) you! At that point, the two women immediately ran away, prompting Derek to chase them down. I want to say that was karma for Derek, but the man code of law was kind of broken here. Still funny nonetheless.

For the record, we highly recommend you not do this when you run into an athlete at a bar. Just a suggestion.

Athlete Run-In: Julian Tavarez's Rocket Arm [Deadspin]

Everyone knows Julian Tavarez is just a tad volatile and we learned that at a Giants-Brewers game in 1998. A group of us decided to get general admission seats for an entire Giants-Brewers series at County Stadium with one sole purpose: heckle Barry Bonds. There seemed to be about 50-60 other people with the same idea.

Before the game started, Bonds was standing in the outfield during BP and my buddy Steve was tossing rather general insults at Bonds, nothing profane or personal, but still pretty tiresome. We were 16 at the time, and it was better than being out drinking or
doing drugs. After about 10 minutes, Julian Tavarez approached us at the left field rail. He asked us what our problem was. And Steve said, hey we paid, we're not being obscene, we don't like Bonds. Tavarez went on to explain, "Hey man, there are kids here. They like Bonds. Don't ruin their hero for them." Steve just nodded and looked to be in agreement.

Tavarez thinking the situation between us and Bonds was over, turned to walk away. Then Steve made a dangerous decision. He hollered, "There goes a true hero Julian Tavarez...unlike Barry Bonds!" and went back into his Bonds yelling.

Well after about 10 minutes, we had forgotten about Tavarez. Suddenly, gloves went flying up all around us. Tavarez had thrown a ball into the crowd. Except this wasn't your underhand toss to a kid. It was a damn hard throw. Tavarez was trying to Joey Belle Steve! Luckily, some old guy with a glove snagged it in front of Steve's head. Steve would have been in big trouble without that guy.

Needless to say, we were not surprised to see Tavarez's karate kick moves on the mound years later.

Athlete Run-In: John Kruk, Man Of The People [Deadspin]

This story, from John in Cherry Hill, N.J., helps explain why.

The legend of the Vet Stadium 700 level is well preserved in fandom lore. The fights, the thugs, the drunks, the clenched fists and scowls. Having bore witness to this section in person on a few occasions, I can whole-heartedly say that this is one of the few times where a legend truly lives up to itself.

In 2000, during Andy Reid's first full season as head coach, when the Eagles finished a rebuilding mode 5-11, I attended the final home game of the year against the Rams, who had pretty much benched all their starters since they wrapped up home field advantage and were in prime position to head back to the Super Bowl. The 700 level was less ornery that day — the Eagles were winning the game and that was enough to keep the crowd somewhat civil throughout. However, during the third quarter, some dude dressed in a very old Isaac Bruce jersey, a Rams' baseball hat and carrying some hokey cardboard sign that said "Rams Rule!" or something equally unoriginal began to walk around the perimeter of the 700 level deck. He passed our section once to a flurry of boos. He did it again and the boos became louder. The crowd began to get restless and I knew that something was going to happen to this misguided person if he came by again.

On his third pass, it happened — a full cup of soda came rifling down and hit him in the chest. The crowd cheered. Security began to make its way up to the section and everybody turned around to see who the culprit was. When security began walking the man down the stairs, the cheers became louder and when I finally got a view of the man, it was obvious he was not just your average drunk, pot-bellied animal that lived in the 700 level. Or was he? It turned out that the soda-thrower was former Phillie-cum-ESPN analyst John Kruk, wearing an awful grey sweatshirt and completely feeling right at home with the maniacs. As he was escorted out of the section, he made presidential waves to the rest of the fans — which was now giving him a full-on standing ovation — and security seemed to let him ham it up a bit because they knew who he was as well. If anybody questions why Philly was so in love with the '93 Phillies team — and the Eagles, for that matter - well that could pretty much sum it up right then and there.

Athlete Run-In: David Wells' Special Talent [Deadspin]

I once saw David Wells and Todd Stottlemyre drinking together in Cleveland. Wells was holding three cans of beer stacked on top of each other with one hand, while drinking out of the top one. I have attempted this many times since, but my pudgy little hands just can t quite do it.

We just went in the other room and tried this very thing. It is impossible. But we put nothing past David Wells.

Athlete Run-In: Where There Is Tom, There Is Tara [Deadspin]

In a former life, I was a radio producer. Horrible pay, horrible hours, but it had a couple of fringe benefits. One of those benefits was that one year, I somehow lucked into going to the ESPY awards and the after-party. So I'm standing around the after-party trying to look like I was supposed to be there, and wasn't doing a very good job. Anyway, I look around and see my buddy standing in a circle of people. On his left was Tom Brady. Now this was 2002-Still-Somewhat-Approachable-And-Not-Yet-A-Mega-Superstar Tom Brady (right after the first Super Bowl victory). And Brady was super cool and seemed down to earth.

He also seemed very pre-occupied as an obliterated Tara Reid was straight swingin' from his nutsack. And when I say swingin' on his nutsack, I don't really mean that figuratively. The future star of TaraDise was basically trying to grab his balls, and Brady was doing his best stiff-arm to try to keep himself free and have a conversation with the people around him. Let me end the story by saying that at the time I had no idea that Brady and Tara had a history together. I just thought it was incredibly funny that a "starlet" was so obviously throwing herself at a Super Bowl MVP. Really made me wish I would have practiced a little harder.

To be fair: This happens not only at every Tara Reid event, but also at every ESPYs.

Athlete Run-Ins: Joe Morgan's Tiny Finger [Deadspin]
Tom Brady Loves Him Some Olsen Twin [Deadspin]

In the summer of 2003, I was flying from DC to SF one night, and Joe Morgan was on the plane. I think that Joe has two sons; well, if not, they were younger-looking kids sitting next to him and he was really getting on them the whole flight (I was sitting in the row behind them). We all start getting off the plane, and he is starting to get more and more heated on these two kids.

Right as we get to the terminal, someone yells. "Hey, It's Joe Morgan." And, Joe Morgan swivels around, all 5-foot-2 of him, looks him in the eye and gives the guy the finger. It was awesome. I wish I were famous.

Though he wasn't seen, Jon Miller was there, blinking, wondering what, if anything, he could possibly say.

Athlete Run-In: Sammy Sosa, Way Back When [Deadspin]

In 1993, I was staying at the team hotel and had a run-in with several Chicago Cubs players in San Diego. At the time, I was 8 years old. Three players stuck out on this trip: Willie Wilson, Sammy Sosa and Turk Wendell. I approached Willie Wilson and asked him for his autograph in the lobby; he stared at me for a minute and said, "Sorry kid, I don't sign autographs." My dad was pissed that a professional athelete would say that to an eight-year-old kid and mumbled something to Willie about how much he sucked.

A few feet away stood Sammy Sosa, who at the time was virtually unknown. Apparently observing what had just taken place, Sammy walked over to me and asked me for my autograph. I was sort of surprised and didn't really know what to do, so I nervously gave it to him on a piece of paper he was holding. Sammy started chuckling and said "hang on a couple of minutes kid, I will be right back - stay down here for a minute." Ten minutes later, Sammy came back down the elevator with several other Cubs players, including pitchers Jim Bullinger and Turk Wendell. These guys sat down on some couches in the lobby and proceeded to talk with my dad and me for several minutes, and of course they all gave me autographs.

The next day, my dad and I attended the Padres game, and Turk Wendell happened to pitch for the Cubs. The following morning Turk was pictured on the front of the San Diego sports page jumping over the baseline, as he was always known to do. I spotted Turk in the hotel lobby and approached him with the newspaper. Turk said to me, "Hey look at that, its me! Kid, can I keep this?" Thrilled that I could actually give something to a professional athlete, I told him yes, but before I walked away, Turk reached into his pocket and pulled out a $5 bill and told me to go buy myself a new newspaper and to come find him and he would autograph it. Long story short, I still have the autographed newspaper by Turk Wendell, and the autographed baseball by Sammy Sosa and Jim Bullinger.

A story where Sammy Sosa is a nice guy, and a Turk Wendell sighting to boot. Tough to beat that.