DiLo and I have long been avid admirers of the Cleveland Cavaliers. Some of our earliest childhood memories stem from cheering on the Cleveland professional sports scene as youngsters, and the Cavs teams of the late ’80’s-early 90’s featuring Mark Price, Brad Daugherty, Larry Nance, Craig Ehlo, and John “Hot Rod” Williams were certainly no exception. But the one man that just might have been the glue of those great Cavs squads throughout his ten-year tenure was Daniel John Willard “Danny” Ferry. Born a man in Baltimore, Maryland on October 17th, 1966, Ferry parlayed a very successful college career with the Duke Blue Devils into being chosen with the 2nd overall pick in the 1989 NBA draft by the Los Angeles Clippers. After refusing to play for the Clips (who wouldn’t?), he was eventually traded to Cleveland before the 1990 season. From there, he became a lynch pin for the successful Cavs teams that seemingly lived in the Conference Finals, yet just couldn’t find a way to get past Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. With his passion for the game, stunning physique and ravishingly good looks, Danny Ferry was a man that all women wanted and all men wanted to be.
In May of this year, we caught wind of some rumor winds speculating that Ferry might be having a get-together with some of the Cavs management in Medina, OH to thank them for all of their hard work in piecing together the huge Shaq trade with the Phoenix Suns. After hearing the rumors, we were highly skeptical of the potential gathering and forgot about it soon after. However, our good buddy Jack Potts placed a call to us in late June describing how the space for his wedding ceremony was under attack from an unknown party that was threatening to outbid the wedding party. Could it be? Could this have been the work of Danny Ferry and his minions? Without wasting another minute, we both booked plane tickets (from Las Vegas and Chicago, respectively) as we had not originally planned on attending the Potts wedding. Simply put, the thought of seeing Danny Ferry up close (and in a bar setting, no less) was simply too tingling a thought to pass up.
As the wedding ceremony wore on, we spent about 50% of our time at the bar and 45% searching the premises for the elusive Danny Ferry (there was about 5% taken up by me catching the garter belt).
We wandered in and out of every room in the place and questioned every worker without a shred of luck. Our dreams were looking dim, and they were running out of tequila. Then, suddenly, I looked across the dance floor and saw the Man, the Myth, the Legend. Was that really him, or had the booze generated a mirage?? We sprinted across the dance floor with cameras in hand, and ended up with this incredible Kodak moment! Jeb, Danny, and DiLo, like it was meant to be. We had a long chat about the bitter taste of defeat at the end of the Orlando series, the rejuvenation after the incredible trade for Shaq, and then his very recent signing of Anthony Parker. I don’t want to spoil his exact thoughts concerning the upcoming ’09-’10 season, but let’s just say that hopes are sky high in Cleveland. It turns out that he decided not to outbid the Potts wedding, but had just finished a day of golf and decided to wander in to the rocking party. The man was truly a gentleman, and for us two lucky guys, was part of a night that we won’t soon forget. Now, if I could only get this stunning photo autographed…
The following morning, as we were recounting our interactions with Danny, we were catching heat from our friends claiming that we were full of shit. We told them we would prove it and we went to get the camera. We passed around the digital camera with our heads held high…that is…until it came around to Jack Potts who quickly proclaimed.
“Hey jackasses, that’s my Dad”.
Whatever, under the extreme state of inebriation I think that anyone would have made the same mistake. DiLo and myself will continue to tell the story how we remember it…
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