I have to admit I was pretty surprised when my editor said that he wanted me to do an… I have to admit I was pretty surprised when my editor said that he wanted me to do an interview with David, son of Jesse.

After all, I thought, I don’t speak Hebrew, and he’s been dead for a couple millennia. But, it turns out all those years in the hereafter have allowed him ample time to learn English, and so it was that I found myself in Panera Bread talking sports with the greatest underdog of them all.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he greeted me. “I really needed to talk to you about something.”

“Hey, if it’s about T.O., don’t worry,” I said. “They ruled against him on all counts.”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I mean this whole David and Goliath thing.”

I didn’t get it.

“I’m tired of people over-using that comparison,” he went on. “I can’t take it anymore. People just toss around my story and apply it to practically every team that wins a game against a higher seed.”

“I see,” I said. “So why tell me about it?”

“It’s my New Year’s resolution to make sure this doesn’t happen anymore, because frankly, I’m sick of it,” he explained. “I needed an outlet so I could be heard.”

“Well, I’ll need more to go on than just, ‘I’m sick of it,'” I told him. “Give me an example of what you mean.”

“Easy,” he said quickly. “The Federer match at the end of last year.”

“What, the one against Nalbandian?”

“Exactly!” he leaned forward. “On ESPN.com, the headline for Nalbandian’s defeat of Federer was ‘David stuns Goliath.’ That’s crap! The guy is No. 12 in the world! Is that really an upset?”

“Well, Roger’s had a pretty incredible run,” I offered.

“Yeah, but if they had an AP poll for warriors back then, I would have ranked somewhere in the low millions,” he said. “Not quite the same as 12.”

I saw his point.

“So how long has this been bothering you?” I asked.

“Longer than I can remember,” he said. “I’ve been trying to plead my case to The Man, but He wouldn’t listen for the longest time. So I’ve slowly been building my case. Patriots a David against the Rams in Super Bowl XXXVI? Give me a break. They won the AFC, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about the Greatest Show on Turf era,” I countered. “Warner had weapons like Faulk and Bruce and Holt.”

“That’s true, but look, Goliath had a spear with an iron head that weighed like 15 pounds. I took him on with a sling and some stones!” he stared at me sarcastically. “The Patriots had Brady, Bruschi, Law and a whole cast of hard workers. That’s a bit different, don’t you think?”

I could see I was going to lose this battle.

“Why didn’t you just bring it up then?” I asked. “That was a couple of years ago, right?”

“Believe me, I tried,” he replied. “The Man didn’t believe me, though. Thought I was overreacting, that it wasn’t a big problem. I couldn’t get him to see it my way until last April.”

“What happened then?”

“He was reading an article on a Hawks-Timberwolves game, and they called it a David versus Goliath matchup,” he said proudly. “He knew then that I was right. This was a regular season game that nobody gave a hoot about within a week after it happened, one with no real consequences on the outcome of the season, between two mediocre teams.”

“I must have missed that,” I said.

“We sure didn’t. God is a huge sports fan, and He was seriously upset,” David said, the horror of the memory clear in his eyes. “He said to me, and I’ll never forget this, ‘David, Wally Szczerbiak is no Philistine warrior! You’ve been right all along.’ Even he could see that the comparison’s true meaning was lost.”

“You’re right,” I realized. “People really have been overusing it!”

He sat back, satisfied his point had gotten across.

“So,” I said, “are there any stories you feel really are David and Goliath material? Something we can use as a barometer for using the comparison?”

“Hickory High,” he said without missing a beat. “They’re my favorite story of all time.”

“Um, actually, Hickory is made up,” I pointed out. “The real team was Milan.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “You mean there was no Shooter? No Coach Dale? No ‘In my book we’re gonna be winners!’?”

“Nope,” I said.

He sat back in his seat.

“That was the one story that I really thought understood me,” he said quietly.

After a minute, he regained his composure.

“Ah well,” he said. “I still have the 1980 Olympic Team.”

“There’s a story,” I said.

“Tell me about it,” he agreed. “Biggest upset ever. I mean, Chaminade? Ralph Sampson was a tremendous player, so I’m glad to have them ranked up with me. But I think ’80 was bigger. It was huge for sports, but it also had immense political ramifications, what with the hostage situation and Afghanistan and all.”

“You know your history!” I said, very impressed.

“Nah,” he said simply. “I know my sports. Anyway, I should get back to the clouds. Just make sure you tell your brethren to stop misusing and overusing my legend. It really ticks me off.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

Brian Weaver is the assistant sports editor of The Pitt News, but that doesn’t mean he is a David to anybody’s Goliath. E-mail him at [email protected] .