“Everyone here (in Baltimore) is gonna love The Goose,” he told me that day. “I work hard, I play hard and even the kids are gonna love me. I’m big, I’m funny and I’m lovable.”
And he was right.
His radio show, heard on a pair of different stations during his four years in Baltimore but listened to by “nobody,” according to Billick, is an ode to another Baltimore legend, Art Donovan.
As foul as it is frank, everyone – including me – is fair game for The Goose.
And, God, help the person whose name is on the FCC license.
The best Goose story I have involves a night on the town – in Washington, D.C., of all places – in May 1998. Quarterback Jim Harbaugh had just arrived in Baltimore and invited me out with Siragusa and Michael McCrary for a Hootie and The Blowfish concert at the Bayou in Georgetown.
Siragusa rented a limousine and invited one his marketing reps, Wendy Herr, along for a big evening out.
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I think I saw it all that night.
Harbaugh and then-Redskins quarterback Gus Frerotte discussed free agency at the back bar. Harbaugh, one of the nicest guys on the planet, lifted a guy who was struggling on crutches up a flight of stairs because he couldn’t make the walk. Siragusa sent me to the bar for a round of drinks so I brought back five – one for everyone – and he said, “Great, that’s enough for me, now go get some for everybody else.”
On the ride back from the concert, everyone was hungry, so we stopped off at the Wendy’s on New York Avenue. For the record, this is not in one of those areas they show on the postcards from America, especially at 3 a.m.
So in I stroll with these three behemoths, and Harbaugh immediately gets snaked by a teenager in a baseball cap.
“Hey, it’s Cap’n Comeback!” the kid yelled at Harbaugh. Harbaugh did a Heisman pose for the kid, smiled and headed to the toilet.
The Goose jumped out of the bathroom and into the line, immediately ordering a 12-piece chicken meal – for himself, of course.
“Hey you’re in the NFL, too, aren’t ya?” the kid said to Goose, who was wearing an NFLPA hat. “Yeah,” Siragusa said. “So what’s my name?”
8The kid paused and studied the big man’s face carefully.
“You’re Tony Seeeeragoochie!” the kid exclaimed. “That’s who you are!”
McCrary, Harbaugh and I howled with delight at that, having some real fun with Goose in the limo about that one.
Forty minutes later, approaching Baltimore on the ride home, Harbaugh and Goose were fast asleep (yes, The Goose snores!), and McCrary, Herr and I were deep into some meaningless conversation about movies or something, when the red and blue lights appeared in our rearview window.
“I think the cops are pulling us over,” McCrary said. “Let’s wake up Goose, he’ll talk to the cops.”
Leave it to our limo driver to be doing 85 miles per hour on the freeway at 3:30 in the morning.
Three times we disturbed Siragusa before he could be awakened.
8Finally, once we convinced him that we really were being pulled over, he opened the rear door only to have the police spotlight hit him, and the officer through a bullhorn screeching, “Please shut the door and remain in the vehicle!”
Goose prodded the door twice more, both times being chastised, before finally conceding defeat.
After giving the driver a warning, the officer approached the back window and stuck a flashlight in to see three Ravens, a sports talk show host and a red-faced gal in the back of the limo.
“Sorry, Goose,” the cop said. “I knew it was you guys, but I have to do my job and you have to stay in the car for our safety.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Goose spouted in mock anger. “To hell with your safety! I was worried about my safety! McCrary cut a fart back here, and I was just trying to let the goddamned thing out the door because the window wasn’t working!”
Always Goose. Always the charmer.
Imagine this personality let loose on free roaming cameras and an unlimited freedom of expression during Super Bowl week for the entire free world.
