Editor's note: "Homecoming" is a new signature ESPN program hosted by award-winning sportswriter Rick Reilly that challenges the old adage, "You can't go home again." Reilly will bring his unique style of storytelling to this one-on-one interview program to be shot in the hometown or "formative place" of an A-list athlete. In a warm setting made up of the athlete's friends, family and admirers, we will spend an hour exploring and celebrating how a remarkable athlete came to be. After all, home is where the heart is and heart is the intangible that separates a good athlete from a legend.
I've known John Elway since he was a senior at Stanford. I remember going to his room at his frat, knocking on the door, hearing "Come in!" and only being able to open it a foot wide because his waterbed took up nearly the entire room. I covered him for all his years as a Bronco -- all those crushing Super Bowl losses and then the two redeeming Super Bowl wins. Then, when he retired in a puddle of tears, we became friends, playing golf here and there, both going through divorces at the same time, both with kids the same age, trying to figure out life over the occasional adult beverage together or three.
But going home with him to Granada Hills showed me a completely new side of him. I learned how very close he was to his late twin sister, Jana. How they always got lockers next to each other because they were such good friends. How Jana had a way of looking out for him, knowing when he'd forget his homework or his mouthguard. How hard it kicked him in the gut when Jana died of cancer in 2002, only a year after his dad, Jack, died of a heart attack.
Still, it was mostly a joyous trip home. It was hilarious knocking on the door of the place where he used to live, a modest ranch house on the corner of a typically Californian suburb. He was actually nervous to do it. You never see John Elway nervous. We knocked on the door and again, the door only opened a crack. This time, it was because the guy living there was sure we were Seventh Day Adventists or something. And even when he recognized Elway, he refused to let us in. Said he was making some kind of wrench invention in there, had turned the house into a kind of small factory, and he didn't want us to see it. Very odd. Well, I guess it makes sense. They always said Elway had all the tools.
He finally let us walk around the outside, and Elway showed us where he used to jump off the tile roof into the tiny little pool in the backyard (even though his dad expressly forbade it.) He showed where he used to bring girls home and make out, only to find out later that his sisters would sit under the window and giggle. And then on the way back to the high school, he showed us where he used to hide behind the church fence and pelt cars as hard as he could with oranges. "Man, I hit some cars pretty hard," he admitted. Yeah, you think? The man had a 93-mile per hour fastball back then. That could actually kill a Miata.
The most amazing part, though, was taking him to the field and seeing if he could repeat the old feats I'd always heard about but never believed. Could he really stand on the 30 and throw a football that hit the crossbar 40 yards away? We turned on the camera. He did it on the first try. Damn. Could he really dropkick a field goal from 30 yards out? He did it on the first try. Could he really hit a teammate's thrown ball with his own from 15 yards away as it fell? No, he couldn't. He came close, but he couldn't. Thank God. That one was going to cost me plenty of adult beverages.
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