If you're not a sports fan, you're likely not familiar with Lee Smith. Even if you are a sports fan, you may have only a vague recollection of his career, beyond the fact that he was once the all-time saves leader.
But Lee Smith will always hold a soft spot in my heart, because he is the first celebrity I ever met. Maybe. I'm not entirely sure it was him, and I've asked him.
Lee Smith isn't the only maybe-celebrity encounter I've had. Far from it. I could list a dozen or more, but instead here are three that immediately come to mind, starting with Smith.
Lee Smith
Lee Smith was (and is) an imposing man: 6 feet 5 inches tall. That's according to the Baseball Reference website, but in my memory he was over 8 feet tall on the day I (may have) met him in 1993.
I was at the arcade in the local mall one Saturday, inserting quarters into the coin slot for my favorite game at the time, "NBA Jam," when I heard a voice from behind: "Can I play with you?"
"Sure," I answered, not giving it much thought. After dropping my last quarter into the slot, I looked up at the second player ... and looked up and up. I was in shock. It was Lee freaking Smith.
Now, all logic should've pointed to the fact that it wasn't Lee Smith. For one, this mall was in the middle of Long Island; why would he be in the middle of Long Island on a weekend (when baseball players play baseball)? Secondly, as a veteran with more than 10 years of big-league experience, he probably could've afforded to buy an "NBA Jam" cabinet of his own.
But ... here's why I have reason to believe it was Lee Smith: He'd just been traded to the New York Yankees the week before, and the mall wasn't so far away from the Bronx that it would be completely implausible for him to be there. Furthermore, he was wearing a cap of the St. Louis Cardinals, the team that had traded him to the Yankees.
Coincidence? To Shane in 1993, it didn't matter. As far as that Shane was concerned, he was playing "NBA Jam" with a real pro athlete.
And beating him, too. After the final buzzer sounded, the man said, "Good game" and walked away. It was the only time Lee Smith and I have ever crossed paths (possibly).
A couple of years later, while Smith was still in the majors, I wrote him a letter congratulating him on all his success and, oh, by the way, did you play "NBA Jam" with a teenager with thick glasses and unruly hair at a Long Island mall in 1993? I included a baseball card of his to have autographed, too.
I received a reply exactly one week later. I tore open the envelope. No letter from Lee Smith, but he did return the baseball card, signed. Which was nice, but I would've rather he admitted, on paper, that he lost to me at "NBA Jam."
Keri Russell (aka Felicity)
I have never watched an episode of "Felicity." I know three things about "Felicity": Scott Foley was a cast member, and Felicity got a haircut or something at some point.
And, obviously, that Keri Russell played Felicity.
I was riding the subway with a friend in the early 2000s when I saw Keri Russell (perhaps) sitting in my car. It was 50/50 that it was her, but for whatever reason I had to know the truth, so I came up with a plan: I softly called out Felicity's name. Not Russell's name — Felicity's name. "Felicity ... Felicity."
I would never, ever do such a thing today. If I spotted Keri Russell in a subway car today, I'd leave her be. Maybe I'd smile or nod, but that would be it. I'd give her her space. But in the early 2000s I was young, wide-eyed and easily starstruck, so I whispered her TV name: "Felicity."
The woman looked up and made eye contact with me. So it was Keri Russell! Or it was someone who was very confused as to why another passenger was saying "Felicity" over and over. I'll never know. I'm too embarrassed to write a letter to Russell to ask.
Aaron Paul
Listen, when I noticed a man across the street on the Upper West Side in 2015 — same height as Aaron Paul, same frame, same scruff — wearing a beanie and a long jacket, of course I thought it was Aaron Paul. It was only two years after "Breaking Bad" had gone off the air, and clearly Aaron Paul had kept some of Jesse Pinkman's wardrobe for himself.
Sadly, it was not Aaron Paul. As the man and I walked toward each other, I discovered he was just someone with a scruffy face and a beanie who just happened to be dressed like a fictional meth dealer. So, in this case, I must concede I did not see a celebrity.
I make this mistake eight times a year, at least. I still have faith that one day it will, in fact, be Aaron Paul.
***
I had another maybe-celebrity sighting just last week. My wife and I were enjoying breakfast at the Plaza when Tobey Maguire (potentially) sat at a nearby table.
"Tobey Maguire is over there," I said to my wife.
"That's not Tobey Maguire. That's a businessman in a suit," she responded.
"Are you sure? Look at the beard, the part in his hair," I said, flicking my wrist and shooting imaginary spiderwebs at her with my hand for emphasis.
"No. I don't trust your celebrity radar," she said.
Oh.
Well, that's not entirely fair. We did see the Mandarin duck recently. I have no doubts about that.
