When I met John Clarke
2/5/2023 8:07 am | : 7 mins. | Share to: 
Six year ago I sat in the common area of the hotel in Ireland, among dozens of other people. It was late at night, or early early in the morning depending on your opinion, and I watched the Atlanta Falcons (MY Atlanta Falcons) give away a commanding lead in the first half of the Super Bowl. A lead large enough that my close friend Liz felt comfortable telling me "Congratulations" before she headed off to bed.
I want it made clear, I responded immediately and vehemently against this sort of premature celebration - no matter how much I was agreeing with it when she said it. I knew that there was another entire half of football to be played. And I knew it was far from guaranteed. I knew this for two reasons:
First, our opponent were the New England Patriots with Tom Brady. The Patriots and Brady were a dynasty and there was no doubt in their skill.
Secondly, we were the Atlanta Falcons. A team which I've supported my entire life out of some sort of masochistic obsession. The Falcons have found new ways to lose games. And on this day, we were going to find a new one: Giving up a 21-3 halftime lead.
It was, to put it simply - brutal. I was demoralized and heartbroken.
I was also tired. And I was also looking at a very early flight home from Ireland to Seattle. I had set up to have a taxi ready very shortly after the football game ended so I could head directly to the airport.
With my Matt Ryan Falcons jersey tucked back in my suitcase, I went outside to catch my cab.
The driver was a nice enough guy. I remember him making clear he was happy to chat or drive in silence given the early hour. I wasn't ready to sleep yet so I decided to talk. The Super Bowl of course came up, but he admitted he didn't follow American football. Which then easily transitioned to soccer.
I tended to fall back on soccer as a conversation with cab drivers in Europe as it was more likely to be fruitful and also to do my part to help show the world that America does have soccer fans.
My driver, "John," according to his displayed license, told me that he had actually played in the Premier League as a youth. He mentioned it offhandedly as we were driving through the pitch black Dublin roads. I think he expected it to be something we moved on from, but I had my smartphone and a curiosity to know who he was. I googled "John Clarke Premier League" or something similar and the conversation went roughly:
John: "Yeah, so I played in the Premier League back in the 80s."
Me: "Oh really?"
John: "Those were the days..."
...
Me: "You played for Manchester City?"
John: "How did you know that?!"
Me: "I found you online."
John: "My information is online?"
He viewed himself as forgotten and so when I was able to find him and bring that up, I could hear his own surprise and spirits lift.
(I am guessing he is front right of this photo, but I am not sure.)
From what I have found, he was a sub for the club that year. As it turns out there is a book about the squad he was part of, and when I googled him I found some info shared by people looking for information about people from the squad.
The rest of the drive was him talking about playing and stories from it. I can't stress how much this cab ride lifted my spirits from the low pits of losing the Super Bowl the way the Falcons did.
At the end of the ride, I sheepishly asked John for a photo. "I've never met a Premiere league player before." He of course agreed.
There, in the unloading zone for Dublin airport, I snapped this blurry photo. A memento of that cab ride and a reminder of the power of sports. They can take us to the lowest lows and lift us out of them. They have the power to transport a man, forty years removed from his time playing, back to his youth and a marquee moment where his team was the best in England.
