The Big Ern

Today the football world is honoring @drewbrees. I once saw a side of him that most people have never seen—and it had nothing to do with football. NAS JRB New Orleans - April 2009 I had the privilege of flying Drew in the back seat of an F-15. We lit the burners on takeoff, went supersonic over the Gulf, then I rolled into a high-G turn. When we rolled out, I checked on him. "How you doing back there?" Silence. For a second I wondered if I'd finally found Drew's limit. Then the headset crackled. "That was awesome." We still had plenty of gas, so I asked if there was anything else he'd like to see. Then came a question no back-seater had ever asked before—or since. "Can we pull more Gs?" The man wanted another turn. So we did. Nine Gs this time. By this point, I'd had enough Gs. He was ready for more. But that's not what I remember most. After we landed, Drew spent hours on the flight line with our airmen and their families. Signing autographs. Shaking hands. Talking to everyone who walked up. Hundreds of smiles. Hundreds of selfies. But not a single glance at his watch. No handlers. No television cameras. No media at all. Just Drew and a Sharpie. I climbed into the cockpit knowing I was flying one of the NFL's greatest quarterbacks. Watching him honor our airmen that day, I came to admire the man more than the athlete—and that's saying something. Congratulations on a well-deserved Hall of Fame induction, Drew. And thank you for the kindness and respect you always showed the men and women who wear our nation's uniform.