We once attended a July Fourth celebration in Pebble Beach, and after John's third helping of strawberry shortcake I stopped counting.

At Cafe Fina on Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey there's a table with a plaque that reads, "This table is reserved for John Madden. If he happens to come in while you're eating you'll be asked to move." The owner, Dominic Mercurio, recalled for me how the two met 30 years ago when John and his wife, Virginia, wandered in looking for clam chowder. They returned for seven consecutive Sundays.

"John was the nicest man I've known," said Mercurio. "He picked up tabs for people all the time, but always anonymously. He didn't want the attention."

The two men became partners in an almond orchard and owned a restaurant in Carmel. For 27 years they hosted a poker game in a room above the restaurant and late at night, when the patrons had all left, John came downstairs to make his favorite chocolate milkshakes.

When he was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2006, John persuaded Mercurio to travel with him on his Madden Cruiser bus — he famously feared flying — to cook a meal for 500 guests at the celebration in Canton, Ohio. "John selected 14 entrees. We had barbecued turkey and chicken, smoked pork, lamb stew, tri-tip ... should I go on?"

About a year ago, when the pandemic and Madden's weakening health limited visits to Cafe Fina, Mercurio draped an Oakland Raiders jacket on a chair at his friend's table, where it will now remain along with the plaque. "He was loved by everyone," said fellow broadcaster and Monterey Peninsula resident Jim Nantz.

After that high school ballgame, several parents came over to meet a larger-than-life sports legend. And what did he say after shaking all their hands? "Thank you for letting me attend the game." Boom! That was John Madden.

(c) Peter Funt. This column originally appeared in The Washington Post.