He Did It His Way: A Personal Tribute to Larry Fitzgerald Sr. From His Best Friend in Minnesota
Contributing writer Ray Richardson pays personal tribute to Larry Fitzgerald Sr., his best friend in Minnesota for more than 30 years, recalling their first meeting at Williams Arena in 1990, Fitzgerald's trailblazing Black Trifecta moment in 1993, the Super Bowl press box in Tampa in 2009 and a friendship that included Richardson serving as best man at Fitzgerald's wedding.
In the week leading up to the 2009 Super Bowl in Tampa, Larry Fitzgerald Sr. had become the “Most Famous Father in America.”
I wrote that line near the top of a story I did for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, a story on Larry being the first journalist to cover his son in a Super Bowl.
At the time, Larry Fitzgerald Jr. was in his fifth NFL season as a star wide receiver for the Arizona Cardinals and well on his way to a Pro Football Hall of Fame career. The “Famous Father” tag was a perfect description for Fitz. He knew it and embraced it.
And why not? Fitz had already checked the box on so many remarkable and trailblazing achievements during his 50-plus years as a journalist. Watching his son from the press box at the world’s biggest sporting event was the latest chapter in a unique career that may never be matched.
During my 30 years in Minneapolis-St. Paul, I had a close-up, behind-the-scenes view of how Fitz built his career as a sports columnist and broadcaster and turned it into a media empire.
Radio stations outside the Twin Cities carried Fitz’s reports. Sports bars welcomed him to do live shows. Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods put their busy schedules on pause to do interviews with him. People loved Fitz’s insights in the columns he wrote for the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder.
Of all the things we’re remembering Fitz for, one of my highlights is how he always closed the deal to add to his empire. Executives, coaches and athletes wanted to work with Fitz.
Fitz hit what I called the “Black Trifecta” in 1993. As a Black journalist, he convinced Minnesota Vikings coach Dennis Green, one of only two Black head coaches in the NFL at the time, to do a radio show with him. Fitz brought the show to KMOJ-FM, a Black radio station in Minneapolis. Who else in the media could have pulled off something like that? Fitz hosted “The Dennis Green Show” on KMOJ for five years.
I didn’t know anyone in Minnesota when I moved here in February 1990 to join the St. Paul Pioneer Press as a sportswriter. My first assignment, less than a week after arriving, was to take over the University of Minnesota men’s basketball beat.
The first game on my schedule was a home game against Purdue on Feb. 11, 1990. That date changed my life.
I was in the media room at Williams Arena preparing for the game when a guy walked up to me and said, “Hi, I’m Larry Fitzgerald.” We shook hands, made small talk, and then something popped into my mind.
“Did you go to Fenger High School in Chicago?”
Larry said, “Yeah, how do you know that?”
I told him I remembered watching him play defensive tackle at Fenger. My sister, Celia, went to Fenger. We grew up on Chicago’s South Side near the school, though I attended another high school. I even told Larry the number he wore, No. 75. Larry was a big-time player at Fenger: All-City, All-State and All-American.
As I recalled those memories, Larry interjected: “So you must have seen all the tackles I made!”
An everlasting connection was made in that media room. Fitz became the ambassador I needed in the Twin Cities, and soon, my best friend in Minnesota. We shared a lifetime of experiences in the Twin Cities and around the country, even beyond our sports duties.
As a single man with no family in Minnesota, Fitz adopted me into his. I met his wife, Carol, and Larry Jr. and Marcus when they were kids. Fitz and Carol extended regular invitations to come over for dinner and introduced me to their circle of friends and associates across the Twin Cities.
Fitz and I eventually found ourselves working side by side at Gophers basketball games and other sporting events, our press seats often right next to each other. The conversations we had during some of those games are not suitable for print.
Our connection hit a milestone in 1999 when Fitz agreed to be my best man when Gail and I got married in Phoenix. Fitz and Carol were very close to Gail, and both of them regularly “suggested” that I needed to walk down the aisle with her.
Frank Sinatra had a hit called “My Way.” It easily could have been Fitz’s theme song.
I saw how Fitz operated. He was confident in everything he did. Committed. Determined. Fearless. Dogmatic. Straightforward.
Yes, Fitz would listen to advice and take notes. But in the end, if he felt his approach was the right one, he moved forward and did it his way. And Fitz proved that his way always worked.
Ray Richardson is a contributing writer for the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder.