Grant Hill! Remember me from South Lakes?

He saved me from a beating.

A couple chapters ago, I mentioned how high school is a hierarchy like a food chain. If you recall, my friends and I were near the bottom and athletes were near the top. My freshman year at South Lakes High School in Reston, VA. was brutal on me and my friends.

I joined the Junior Navy ROTC program to make matters worse…much worse. The program required us to wear our dress blue Navy uniform every Thursday and I became a bigger target because of it. One Thursday, I was in the locker room changing out of my gym clothes and back into my dress blues when the class bullies showed up. The ring leader, Bunky (no kidding - that was his name) and his most loyal lieutenant, Tom S. led in with a drawn out taunt followed by a hard shove into the locker. The shove was so hard that the back of my head hit the locker and I saw stars. My adrenaline was maxed out but there was nowhere to go. I was going to get a beating, no two ways about it.

I braced for the first punch but all I saw was a gigantic hand wrap around Bunky’s shoulder. A very tall man stood up and rotated the bully around.

“Give them a break, why don’t you?!” this man said.

“But, man I…” Bunky started to protest.

The man stared down at him and inhaled sharply, his agreeable face hardening quickly.

Bunky withered and tapped Tom on the arm. They both scurried out of the locker room quickly.

“You fellas get going,” the man said.

I followed the suggestion happily nodding to him in recognition as I left the locker room.

That man was Grant Hill. He was a basketball prodigy that was heading to Duke University to play for Coach K. He was the best known and most respected student in the school which was why the class bullies quickly backed down with just a hard look from him. I only found out who it was when I got home that day. I told my brother about what happened and he offered to pick him out of the yearbook. I picked the face out of the group of Seniors (I guessed he was Senior by his sheer size). My brother told me all about him.

A couple days later, my brother walked me up to Grant Hill so I could get the yearbook signed by him. As soon as I walked up, he recognized me immediately.

“You were the guy in the Navy uniform in the locker room,” he said smiling.

I nodded and showed him the yearbook. He signed it without hesitation.

Over the next dozen years, I forgot all about Grant Hill. I never really got into basketball much until I started working at the Downtown Orlando Marriott. I went to a few Magic games, met and became friends with Dr. J, and had some really interesting time taking care of players and coaches alike.

One day, a friend of mine wanted to go see his team, the Celtics play. I let my brother know and he mentioned that Grant Hill was with the Magic, albeit injured. In the hopes of an autograph, I took my yearbook. Yup, strange thing to take to a game but there we were. It just so happened that my buddy bought tickets near the floor right behind the Magic bench and I was seated at the end of the row. To my left was the tunnel the Magic players used to get to the locker room.

At halftime, the team started streaming toward the tunnel. I saw that familiar face of Grant Hill and waved at him as he walked toward the tunnel. I held up my South Lakes High School yearbook and yelled out,

“Hey, Mr. Hill. Do you remember me from South Lakes?”

“Hey, Navy!” He smiled back.

“Would you autograph my yearbook?”

He smiled again. Turned to the exact page he signed the first time when he was a HS Senior and autographed it with his player number underneath it. That was half advance planning and half luck but Grant Hill signed my yearbook…twice!