been a long time since they scored a goal

AUSTIN, Texas — The agenda for Austin is simple:  see live music, drink beer, eat Tex-Mex food.  Simple instructions, pick any order.

So on the first full day, after walkabout, it was off to the pub in early afternoon.  The first choice was not yet open for business, so we quickly chose another nearby that held the promise of soccer football.

Into the dark we went, and two men were seated at the bar and riveted to, of course, the football. One had a leonine mane of wavy hair and bright eyes and was the spitting image of Robert Plant.

It was Robert Plant. JMM is from Scotland and knowledgeable about football, so he sidled up to chat about the game while I stood, starstruck into paralysis, about five feet away.

JMM also is knowledgeable about All Things Rock and happened to be wearing the very Showco Sound T-shirt that apparently John Bonham made famous, and which Robert Plant remarked upon. Robert Plant’s only comment to me was to say it was nice to meet me, which was courteous but untrue since he so obviously wanted to watch the match.

We took our leave and moved to a nearby table.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us could speak. My mind was reeling: a Wednesday afternoon in Austin, Texas, with the former lead singer of Led Zeppelin 10 feet away? We decided some pints would help us absorb this situation.

JMM watched the game while I contemplated:

• How old is Robert Plant? He’s really fit.
• Should I try to get a photo with my iPhone?
• Should we talk to him at halftime?
• What is he doing in Austin? Is he on tour? He must like it here.
• Should I tell him that he holds the record for my most expensive concert ticket of 2011, when I went to see him and Band of Joy at the Fox Theater in Atlanta?  [Totally worth it, by the way]
• I wonder if he remembers coming to Peoria, Illinois, for a solo tour in 1982 and allegedly going to Northwoods Mall?  That was the rumor in our high school, at least.
• Is this really happening? Thank God JMM is here to verify this.

The match was really happening, and Robert Plant’s team, the Wolverhampton Wanderers, scored a goal. He was very engrossed in the competition and that goal was his only chance to celebrate in the first half.

At halftime, he picked up his cell phone went outside into the bright sunlight. I could stand it no more – I had to run to the ladies’ room and post this momentous event on Facebook. *

Then JMM, the server and I tried to plot our photograph with Robert Plant.  She told us he comes in often for Wolverhampton matches, is pleasant to all but keeps to himself.  He’s friendly with the staff but they’ve never asked for any pics or autographs, as management would not look well on it. 

As the second half began, we were content to watch more football and savor the peculiarity of spending an afternoon near an iconic rock figure. People came in and out, none approaching Robert Plant, all playing it cool. As did we, chatting about football, the music we saw last night and would see tonight, and the charms of Austin.

Whiling away an afternoon emphasized that I was on vacation, untethered from the cares of the workaday world. No lists**, no deadlines, no obligations. It was a rare day.

It might have been a rare day for Robert Plant, too: a day to enjoy his team, to spend an afternoon alone, to be released for a few hours from the same exchanges he’s had for 30+ years about music, adulation, blah blah blah.

Even though I was carrying an iPhone, a regular camera and a small video camera, I couldn’t bring myself to try for a surreptitious photo. It just seemed disrespectful. And kind of stupid.

Wolverhampton lost to Manchester City in a second-half rout. Robert Plant hung around for a while, talking to the bartender. Then he moved quickly to the exit. Someone approached him for an autograph, our server later told us, and he headed straight for the door.

So there’s no photographic proof that this happened, but there’s also no story about me saying something idiotic to Robert Plant, which was a forgone conclusion. Then JMM and I furiously texted and called everyone we could think of who would appreciate our brush with greatness.

We hadn’t even been in town 24 hours yet.

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* Yes, I fear I have become one of them: the person for whom nothing is real until it is posted on Facebook. But come on, sitting in a pub with Robert Plant? Admit it – you would have done the same.

** Who am I kidding? There’s always a list.