By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
"I always wish I could do something positive that everyone would remember," Staubach says. "Well, this is it."
The man sitting in first class catches the eye of the flight attendant. Hesitantly, obviously flustered, she approaches.
"Sorry to bother you," she says to the man, "but aren't you somebody?"
His creative, childlike persona ignited, the man excitedly plays along.
"Yes," he says sternly. "Yes, I am. I am somebody."
Confused, intrigued and wholly undaunted, the woman retreats to her tiny nook near the cockpit to commence her mind's roll call while perpetually peering around the corner for another look at the famous face. Finally—armed with an educated guess and a gush of confidence—she returns.
"You're a newscaster," she says, hoping his facial reaction will punctuate her stab with more exclamation point than question mark.
"Yep, you got it," the man says calmly with a sheepish smile. "I'm a newscaster."
Then, as if he hit his overhead call button, the flight attendant's face suddenly lights up.
"Oh, my gosh," she whisper-shrieks. "Frank Gifford! I knew it!!"
"Frank Gifford...riiiiiight," the man says slowly. "You got me."
God's Quarterback is up to no good.
But truth be told, Roger Staubach is still up to a lot of great.
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