It was 1999, if memory serves. I was at a charity dinner in NYC, at Tavern on the Green. I worked at a newspaper then. Big Warren Sapp was at the dinner, so I sidled up to him. I asked him, I forget the exact phrasing, how much he was weighing at that time. It was apparently a touchy topic with the big guy.

A long banquet table was in between us, a good thing since he said he’d hop over the table and whup me for asking a wiseass question. I stammered something about how I’m a big guy to, I know what it’s like to have to unbutton your belt after overindulging at dinner. He glared at me, and I took the cue. I walked away, never to speak to Mr. Sapp again.

Enjoy your retirement, big man.