I do a good bit of work localy for a former Auburn football player and today I went out to Defuniak Springs to inspect some partialy vacant land for a developmental appraisel on a new cookie cutter sub-division going up out there. My client told me that along the northside of the tract across the street there would be a little shanty house with a small but noticeable St. Louis Rams flag out front and if an old african american gentleman was sitting on the porch I should take a few minutes of my time and speak to him, he also gave me a hundred dollar bill and told me to leave that with him in his box if he were there.
I got out there and had finished my inspection in all of about 20 minutes per the norm; I mean hell you can only see so many trees and blades of grass for God's sake. But sure enough the african american gentleman was sitting on his porch in old swing just sipping on a soda out of a straw. I walked up and introduced myself and asked him if he would like some company for a bit and his eyes lit up like a four year old at Christmas.
The man was none other than David Deacon Jones.
I was too young to have ever seen him play but I have heard the stories and seen the film. How could you not know who he is if you are football fan the man was Reggie White's insperation/mentor. I spent nearly two hours there. He recounted his days with the Los Angeles Rams, San Diego Chargers (which he was never really happy about being traded to), the Washington Redskins, and numerous pro bowls ( 8 ).
He never once made more than 38k in a season during his entire career and today lives of a measly $1,112 a month pension from the NFL; which for anyone who has ever lived out here, or even visited for that matter, knows that that is about enough to get you a pot to piss in... about. He also occasionaly does things for the NFL Hall Fame which they inturn give him a nominal fee for and pay for his traveling expenses.
His wife passed away a couple of years and his children do the best they can to help subsidize his income but in the end he barely scrapes by and lives as bad or worse than a pauper. There were a number of times where it was just about all I could do to not shed tears watching this hobbled older man try and march back and forth on his delapidated fronch porch reliving the glory days in his mind as he recounted them in his speech like it were just yesterday.
I left him not only the $100 bill my client gave me for him but two of my own in the cigar box on the ledge. He told me "God Bless You" as I departed with what looked like a tear in his eye. $300 dollars meant just that much to the man and he was used to talking to people on his porch for much longer length for much smaller "donations".
It absolutly sickens me to think of players like Terrel Owens now bitching because they don't have contracts with enough zeros at the end these days when I look at man like this who gave his life to the game. I don't know if I'll ever purchase another NFL licensed product again in my life and certainly not a jersey of some over paid pussy bitching about only making a couple million dollars a year
.The sorry SOB owners can rot in hell as well as far as I am concerned!!!
a little rounder and older in the face. I feel fucking had. If thats true I want to drive back out there and kick the living shit out of that old man and get my damn money back 
