Yeah, I was a hero. Once.

I see that my wife has described me as some kind of superhero because I do the laundry and the dishes. I hardly think that makes me heroic. But, at one point in time, I was (so I’m told) a hero – and it had nothing to do with folding clothes.

Geez, and it was five years ago already. That’s messed up.

Anyway, here’s the deal. Back when I lived in Huntsville (background for non-Texans, moderate sized town, 30,000 people, home of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice and where people get executed) and was a reporter for The Huntsville Item, I supposedly did something brave. I was on my way to covering an execution – no kidding – and was moving rather slowly because traffic was congested.

I looked over to the left and a police officer I was friends with had pulled over a guy in a red Trailblazer. Wade apparently knew the guy and asked for permission to search the car, which he got. He found some prescription drugs in the car which the guy didn’t have a prescription for. When Wade went to cuff the guy, he spun around, punched Wade and pushed him to the ground.

I was near a parking garage, so for some reason I pulled in and got out. And started chasing after the guy who had just assaulted the cop.

Well, Mr. Bad Guy comes across the street and is coming right at me. I line this sucker up and I’m going take him down with a tackle that would make Dick Butkus jealous.

Then Wade yells, “STOP, YOU STUPID MOTHER***KER!”

So I did. Didn’t exactly occur to me that the other guy might be the stupid MFer in question.

Anyway, dude runs past me because I went flatfooted. So we chase him some more. This guy is doing a good pace, but his shorts are baggy so that’s a problem. I’m gaining on him some, but I’m wondering if I’m gonna run out of gas first.

Not a problem, as the idiot was running RIGHT TOWARDS THE POLICE STATION.

Four cops heard Wade’s radio call and came busting out, to have the guy fall right in their laps. Game over. But at least I got to help sit on him.

I went over the execution and that dude’s game was seriously over. Came back to the office to find out some other civilian had come over to the paper in my absence and had taken credit for single-handedly stopping the guy. Uh, bullshit – he wasn’t anywhere close. When my idiot assistant editor asked how I knew, I told him.

Yeah, front page the next morning, “Item Reporter helps catch alleged cop attacker.” Start the next Clark Kent jokes.

But standing there like an idiot when Mr. Bad Guy blows past me is apparently heroic. I have a plaque up on the wall at home honoring for my “Heroic Actions” on March 11, 2003.

They misspelled my last name.

But I was a hero. Once.