You are ... somebody

You are … somebody

Going to events like the Olympics can be humbling, and not just when you’re in the presence of athletes who are so much younger and in better physical shape.

What is truly humbling is when people forget your name.

It happens frequently, especially since we don’t see these journalists and media relations representatives very often, if at all, during non-Olympics years.

Fortunately we’re always wearing big yellow name tags. But the typeface is rather small. So there is always that awkward pause as the forgetful person scans quickly down before saying hi.

Today I was humbled, but for a different reason. I discovered that someone remembered my name. As I ambled up to a small media gathering surrounding Bob Bowman, Michael Phelps’ swim coach, he said “Hey Dave.”

I couldn’t believe it. There was a time when Bob and I were on a first-name basis, but that was more than four years ago before he and Phelps moved to Michigan. But we hadn’t talked more than once since then.

I had no idea he remembered my name. But he did. And he didn’t read my name tag, either.

I am … somebody.