A Night to Remember at the Beverly Hills Hotel: Meeting Joe Namath
It was the tail end of a dazzling evening at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the kind of night where Hollywood stars, sports legends, and socialites gather under one roof. As the party wound down, I decided to make my way to the iconic Polo Lounge for a final drink—a perfect way to wrap up the evening.
To my surprise, sitting at the far end of the bar was none other than Joe Namath, the man who had stunned the world with the Jets’ Super Bowl III victory over my cherished Baltimore Colts. The memory of that game still lingered, and I couldn’t resist approaching him to talk about it.
I playfully brought up how Earl Morrall had missed a wide-open Jimmy Orr in the end zone that day, a misstep that still haunted Colts fans. Namath, ever quick-witted, glanced up with a sparkle in his eye and joked, “Orr was just conducting the band.” His humor immediately disarmed me, and we both laughed.
As the evening unfolded, I watched Namath interact with a steady stream of admirers. Some were kind, while others weren’t as polite. One particularly rude comment came from someone who blurted out, “I hear you’re a cripple, Joe!” But Namath took it all in stride, handling every encounter with his trademark poise and charm.
Our conversation soon shifted to his time in Ohio, where he performed with the Kenley Players in Damn Yankees. His enthusiasm for the stage was infectious, and before long, we were belting out a few lines from the musical right there at the bar. It felt surreal, like a scene from a movie—Joe Namath, Broadway tunes, and a legendary setting.
Eventually, Namath decided to call it a night. With a smile and a nod, he walked out, leaving behind an air of effortless cool that only a true icon can exude. I stayed a while longer, reflecting on the improbable magic of that encounter.
When I finally asked for my check, the bartender leaned in with a knowing smile. “Joe took care of it,” he said. “He got the whole bar. And—it’s not the first time he’s done that.”
As I left the Polo Lounge, I couldn’t help but grin. Joe Namath, the man who had once crushed my team’s Super Bowl dreams, had just given me a story for the ages. In a city full of surprises, this was one encounter I’d never forget.