The news had broken in Arizona Republic, that the Eagles were moving to Phoenix, that owner Leonard Tose was taking the franchise to the desert. The call came from the office a few hours later -- "Just find the guy," they said, "the guy" meaning the person who was going to pay Tose his blood money, a guy named James Monaghan, who held such a low profile that one of the Phoenix papers was spelling it "Monahan."
So I went. I got off the plane and ended up at Monaghan's office -- me, a guy from one of the Phoenix papers and a radio guy, as memory serves. His secretary said he was flying in from Japan with his wife and that we could meet his flight at the airport.
So what does he look like?
He's pretty average looking, the secretary said.
Well, his wife has blond hair, she said.
So, it was off to the airport. It was back in the days before big-time security so we went right to the gate and did what any self-respecting reporter would do in the same situation: we questioned blondes. Hilarity ensued. Alas, no Monaghan.
So, it was back to the office. The secretary did some checking and found out Monaghan was on a different flight. Hours later -- and it was down to me and maybe one other reporter at that point -- he showed up and acknowledged everything. Within a week, Tose would end up screwing him and making a deal with the city of Philadelphia to stay.