I spent three days working up the courage to approach Craig Sager at the 2013 PGA Championship. It was a super-hot August weekend in Rochester, N.Y., and for some fortuitous reason that could only be described as an oversight, I had been selected to cover the event. I was a newspaper intern.
Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson were there, with the usual corresponding host of media hotshots, but Sager, who passed away Thursday, was the only celebrity I really wanted to meet. And I was shaking like a leaf.
You always think you’ll introduce yourself, undaunted, to a childhood idol if you come face to face with that person, but it’s a different story when you’re actually there…or at least it was for me. My heart raced every time I got near him. My mind played games and tried to convince me to back out: it must be annoying how much he gets approached by doting fans, just let the man live.
The justifications won, repeatedly. I knew this could be the only opportunity I ever had, though, to tell Sager how much laughter he had brought into my life and how grateful I was that he, among a select few others, had influenced me to go into journalism. I mean, this guy had a real impact on my life. There he was—Craig Sager in all his ostentatious glory. And there I was, a newspaper intern who felt like he was invited by mistake.
Sporting his traditional electric-colored outfits (polos instead of suits because it was summertime), Sager was easy to spot throughout the tournament. He was constantly surrounded by others, a star among stars in the media center. You’d usually—well, OK, always—find him with at least one beer in hand.
On the last day of the championship, I finally worked up the nerve to approach Sager. I said something about being a lifelong fan—it sounded better in my head than the scrambled mess that tumbled, unchecked, out of my mouth—and asked if he’d be willing to take a photo so I could commemorate the tournament. I knew it’d make me look like a fanboy (journalism is serious!), but let’s be real, that’s exactly what I was.
This man had commanded the respect of countless hoops legends throughout his decades as a TNT sideline reporter. This man had made Pop look human. This was the NBA’s GOAT style icon (no disrespect, Russell Westbrook). For crying out loud, this man had greeted Hank Aaron at home plate after his record-setting 715th home run.
Craig Sagar was there when I crossed the plate for #715 & has been a friend ever since.I thought the world of him & he will be sorely missed
It's one thing to hear glowing accounts from those who knew such a living legend—watch Rachel Nichols’ beautiful, in-the-moment tribute on ESPN earlier today, or read the social media tributes from the NBA community—but nothing compares to encountering that person yourself, and learning that the truth outshines even what you've heard. I learned Craig Sager was just as gregarious, humble, and kind in person as he seemed on television. When the cameras shut off, he was just him—the exact guy so many fans loved.
He couldn’t have been warmer and more willing to take a photo, which says a lot—because, come on, this was the Craig Sager.
I looked back on the photo earlier today and smiled remembering the experience. What a good dude. He really made the world a better place.
Then something caught my eye, shattering my warm and fuzzy reminiscence...the terribly flamboyant gold watch on my wrist.
What was I thinking, wearing something so gaudy to cover a prestigious event? It looks like something Post Malone would wear. Why didn’t I just hold up a sign saying, “I SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED HERE”?
Then I laughed. I guess at the time I thought it was a stylish decision. Sager wouldn’t have had it any other way.
