An old Marino personal experience

I've been thinking about sharing this for some time now, even though it was not a big deal to me it may be a cool story for many of you. I grew up in South Florida and one neighbor was a rich Italian family that spoiled their kids rotten. Their oldest son, Frankie, took up autograph collecting as a hobby and eventually built an extensive network of contacts. If a plane touched down with Jordan on board he knew immediately, and within an hour he would know where he was staying, what club he was going to, and where he was headed to eat. We never ended up hanging out with all the other autograph seekers in front of a hotel...he would always figure out somewhere we would be basically one on one with the person and have a few seconds of quick talking to get a few signatures.

Marino did a radio show every Thursday from Weston Country Club, but what many did not know is that Dan was a bit of a drinker and would often hang out sitting at the bar for several hours afterwards. Frankie would arrive around 10:30 each night and take different friends with him each time, because like all stars they will not keep signing autographs for the same person over and over. He would sell the high quality photographs to collectable stores for $30-$100 each (he produced so consistently that all the local shops would authenticate anything he brought in) and give me half of it...and if things went well you could usually get 1-4 signatures before the person gave up on you. Marino was good to hit on Thursdays because he was always halfway drunk and usually in a good mood.

One particular Thursday night (this was towards Marino's final years playing at the start of the season, but cannot remember which...probably around 1990) Frankie reluctantly talked me into going, many of the stakeouts we went on never panned out and sometimes Marino would be downright rude. When we arrived he was sitting at the bar, and by his posture we could tell he had been drinking pretty well. We were not allowed to enter so we waited in the parking lot right next to Marino's Suburban, and about 11:30 he came walking out with about 40 balloons in tow.

I noticed Dan was stumbling a bit and he was losing balloons as he fumbled for his keys (this was before keyless entry), so I put the photos down and offered to take the balloons for him. He passed them over and unlocked his back door, then I put them inside. I commented on how nice his vehicle was and he said, "It's okay...why, what do you drive?" Luckily we were there in Frankie's brand new, decked out Cherokee so it was not an embarrasing moment.

Dan talked with us for about five minutes and told us the baloons were for his child's birthday. He signed several autographs as we talked lightly, and when I mentioned if he thought he was going to the Super Bowl that year Frankie shot me a dirty look. Marino said, "I never talk about the playoffs until we're already there," and I realized how stupid of a question it was.

Eventually Dan headed for the drivers door to leave. He stopped and looked back at us before climbing inside, and I said, "Are you okay to drive?" Frankie gave me another angry look, but after a few seconds Dan said, "I don't think I can make it home." At the time Marino owned the first home ever built in Weston and everyone out there knew exactly where it was located, even though you could not get through the guard gates to actually get there. I asked Dan if he wanted me to drive him (thinking he would ride with us for the 1.5 mile ride) and he held out his Suburban keys to me.

I remember starting the engine and thinking, holy sh$t, just don't crash into anything; all of a sudden I was terrified. I put the Suburban in reverse and almost hit the opposing curb (those things are long!) but made the 3/4 mile drive to the private gatehouse without issue. I rolled down the window and Marino told the guard that I was driving him home, then the officer glanced at the Cherokee following and asked what to do about it. For a second I didn't think he would let them follow, but finally Dan waved his arm forward and off we went.

About thirty seconds later we pulled up to his home and I handed Marino his keys. I asked him if he wanted me to carry the baloons inside for him and he said, "sure," and I was starting to transform into the hyper-excited super fan thinking about going inside and haveing a beer or something with Dan. I grabbed the baloons out of the back seat and made it about five steps up the driveway, and from behind me I heard car doors opening and fast approaching footsteps. Marino turned and saw my friends running to catch up with me and said, "What the hell are you guys doing, get out of here!" I handed him the balloons and then we were off. Of course, when I got to the Cherokee I cussed everyone out for getting out of the car.

I know it's a nothing, stupid story, but it is one I will never forget. If you enjoyed it and want more of them let me know...I have a few good Shula stories and have met tons of celebrities through my Italian autograph hound of a friend.

 

We were in the car for about two minutes...maybe three tops and neither of us ever said a word except at the guard gate. I think I was 17 and I drove a '84 Toyota Camry that I had wrecked twice from being young and dumb. He never said a word and truthfully that was fine with me because I was so paranoid about crashing.

Of course I look back at it years later and think, "What if I totaled it?" It would have been front page news in the Herald, Sentinel, and possibly earned me a 10 second clip on ESPN. It would have made a great college recruiting topic tho...they would have all been like, "So, how do you know Dan Marino? Do you think he would donate to our sports department?"