Call it fate. Call it destiny. Call it whatever you want. All that matters is that I made a lifelong friend in Liverpool, England last December. And this was no ordinary bloke.
"Mark Roberts is the World's Greatest STREAKER" -- at least that's what his business card claims. A business card for a man banned from every football stadium in Britain because he mimicked a U.Va. rite of passage ... over 400 times.
CBS obviously did something right during the Super Bowl XXXVIII halftime show to keep this guy a secret from FCC Chairman Michael Powell, his family and the millions of other viewers at home. Only 10 minutes after the cameras zoomed in on Janet's wardrobe malfunction, they zoomed away from the overweight referee-stripper hybrid as Roberts Riverdanced his "holy grail of streaks."
Considering that was Mark's introduction to the U.S., I'd say business is booming.
Seventy-thousand Americans got their first taste of the hottest Brit since Keira Knightley during that Panthers-Pats game. Scattered among those 70,000 were only a handful of journalists lucky enough to score an exclusive interview in the ensuing weeks. But out of that handful, only one was Mark's guest of honor as he and his mates partied into the wee hours of his 40th birthday.
Did I mention I also witnessed career streaks Nos. 400 and 401 that night?
Someone call a rabbi. This guy skipped his bris.
I was supposed to meet The Streaker
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