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Start Me Up, Danny

By Tony Kornheiser October 12, 2002

Some months back I was chatting with Dan Snyder, making small talk about how the Redskins might do under Steve Spurrier. Snyder was very excited to have Spurrier. And then he told me he was very excited about something else: His favorite band, the Rolling Stones, was signed to play a concert at FedEx Field in October. Snyder was ecstatic.

"You like the Rolling Stones?" he asked me.

"Do I like them? I named my son after Mick Jagger."

"Well, how'd you like to come to the pre-concert meal with the Stones? They've got to eat something before they play. We can eat with them."

Ohmigod!

Oh, please this isn't another horribly self-indulgent Kornheiser column about his life, is it? I hoped we were done with them when he left Style. Come on, this is Sports!

You want sports? Wilbon will write another Redskins column in 24 hours. Can you wait until then, or will you dry up and die from lack of in-depth Patrick Ramsey coverage?

So anyway, months went by. I never heard from Snyder. I figured he'd forgotten about me. Then last week on the morning of the concert, he called and said, "Are you ready to meet Mick Jagger?"

He explained he could bring four people to meet the Stones before the concert. He had been allotted five minutes with them -- hardly a generous gesture considering The Danny owns FedEx Field.

"What about their pregame meal?" I asked.

"Apparently they don't eat a pregame meal," Snyder said.

"Have you seen them?" I said. "It doesn't look like they've eaten any meals since 1973."

I spent the rest of the day itching like a man on a fuzzy tree, as The King would say. The easy part was writing a check to charity for the tickets. The hard part was thinking what to say to Jagger, whom I'd revered for 40 years. I wanted desperately to say something smart and witty that would give him a good impression of me. Here's what I came up with:

"So, Mick, how many women have you slept with so far?"

(The correct answer is: "So far today?")

I actually met Mick once before, at the Meadowlands about 25 years ago. Well, maybe "met" is a reach. I was covering Pele's last game with the Cosmos in the old North American Soccer League. After the game I was in the locker room, trying to get as close to Pele as possible. I was about 10 feet from him, in a crush of reporters, straining to make out what Pele was saying. From behind, somebody kept pushing and shoving me, and the jostling was hampering me from taking notes. So I wheeled, ready to tell this guy if he shoved me again I'd deck him . . . when I realized the guy was Mick Jagger! He was the last person on Earth I expected to see there. I have no idea why he was there, but I couldn't punch Mick Jagger. So I babbled something idiotic about how much I loved his music, and I turned back to Pele.

But now, 25 years later, I couldn't tell Mick that story. It would take too long. It came to no point. And there was a good chance Mick didn't remember any of the '70s, let alone this one soccer game.

Snyder was as nervous about meeting the Stones as I was. He had made Redskins jerseys for them, each individualized with their names. He had helmets to give them, inscribed "Hail to the Redskins" and "Hail to the Stones."

"What are you going to say when you meet them?" I asked.

"I don't know," Snyder said. "That's why you're here. You're the writer."

"Hey, this is casual conversation, not 'Moby Dick.' "

We were told to be in the stadium tunnel by 7:30, almost two hours before the Stones would actually perform. (One of the Stones' handlers met us and said, "Wait here. We'll bring the talent to you." Very edgy.) I stood there like a dope, holding a couple of helmets. I was completely panicked. Snyder was counting on me to say something that would break the ice. All I had was, "So, you guys taken any good drugs in the last hour?"

What Snyder wanted most was a photograph of him with the Stones. To that end he brought a photographer with him. (Oh, like you wouldn't?) I understood completely. I was prepared to jump through fire to be in the shot.

Suddenly they were in front of us. Ron Wood and Keith Richards, slouching and laughing conspiratorially. Charlie Watts, thin as a reed. And finally Mick. I wasn't so much struck by how old they appeared, as how miniature. Jagger was the biggest and he fits in the glove compartment. The most any of them can weigh is 130. They seemed somnambulant. I had the sense that behind their guitars, the second most important piece of equipment the Stones traveled with was a respirator. (Later they put on such a great, energetic show that it was impossible to believe these were the same people. We must have caught them in a cocooning period.)

I tried to engage Keith in conversation. I mentioned a "60 Minutes II" piece I'd seen on the Stones. I told Keith he came across by far the best. He appeared to smile at me, and some sort of sound came from his mouth that reminded me of what you get when you tape record dolphins. I was sure Keith and I could be great friends if only we could find a common language. (I don't know if this comes across in videos, but Keith actually has fish hooks and sinkers tied to his hair. I didn't know whether to chat him up or weigh him!)

I handed a helmet to Watts, who seemed concerned.

"They wear these, don't they?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Well, if we have them, what will they wear?"

"Don't worry," I assured him. "They have others. They won't go out on the field bare-headed."

This seemed to mollify him.

To my right Snyder and his wife Tanya were talking to Mick. Tanya had brought a magazine with Mick on the cover, and she'd asked him to autograph it.

"To Dan," she said.

"How do you spell Dan?" Mick asked.

Sort of stops you cold, doesn't it?

"To, T-O, Dan, D-A-N," Tanya said.

I leaned my head over. Snyder introduced me as someone on ESPN.

For all Mick knew I could have been the night manager at Burger King. "I don't watch much ESPN," Jagger said. "Unless they have soccer on."

This, of course, would have been a perfect opening for me to tell the Pele story. Instead I opted for this gem: "It's an honor to meet you. I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I named my son after you."

Jagger regarded me warily. "That is so weird," he said. And quickly brushed by me.

(He hears it all the time? Gaaack! He probably only hears that when somebody hits him with a paternity suit.)

That's it? That's your big moment with Mick Jagger? What a stooge you must have felt like.

Uh, yeah.

But we were all thrilled at actually meeting the Stones and shaking their hands. I never expected to do that in my life. We were bouncing with joy. Snyder told me the "To Dan" story, and I told him the helmet story.

"That was great, wasn't it?" he said. "Meeting the Rolling Stones!"

"Yeah, congratulations. And to think it only cost you $800 million."