I don’t specifically recall the first time I walked into a pro football locker room. But I’m fairly certain I made a beeline to the quarterback’s stall. It’s highly likely I dropped in on a running back or two, possibly a receiver and/or tight end.
Obvious, right? Talk to the touchdown-makers. Most of what I knew about football at that point was what I had seen on NFL Films — heroic ball handlers moving in dreamy slow motion, soaring music in the background.
I don’t specifically recall the first time I happened upon Keith Fahnhorst, an offensive tackle with the 49ers, but I can tell you it was the day I began understanding football for what it was — a rough, sweaty, painful enterprise in which you tried to knock the other guy silly before he knocked you silly.