My paper route and the legendary 49ers quarterback who still owes me $6.38
If you’ve ever seen the Better Off Dead movie, you’ll remember the relentless paperboy chasing John Cusack, shouting, “I want my two dollars!” That was me as a kid—except I wasn’t after some clueless teenager. I was after a Hall of Fame quarterback.
Y.A. Tittle, the legendary 49ers quarterback, was rich, famous, and lived in a gorgeous home right across from the prestigious Menlo Circus Club. He had a son named Rookie, and together, they were the undefeated champions of dodging their paperboy’s collections.
My paper route in Atherton, California, wasn’t just a job—it was my first business. I had customers, accounts to manage, and monthly collections. Most people paid on time. Some needed a reminder. And then, there was Y.A. Tittle.
Now, Y.A. was a great guy! Always friendly, always had change jingling in his pocket—but somehow, never had my exact payment on collection day. Every month, I’d knock on his door, and if he was home, he’d smile and say, “Come back tomorrow.” If he wasn’t, well… I’d have to come back anyway.
One day, determined to collect, I knocked on his door and glanced through the window. There they were. Y.A. and Rookie in the living room. I waited. Silence. Then—I heard them snickering.
Full-grown football legend. Prodigy son. They knew I was there. They knew I needed my money. What were they laughing about?
How is it that this guy—a legendary quarterback, a successful businessman, a man living in a mansion—was dodging a kid for a few bucks?
Every month, it was the same routine. I went to great lengths to catch him—timing my visits, waiting in the driveway, even lingering just long enough to make sure he couldn’t escape. And despite my best efforts, he still managed to stiff me—$6.38 to be exact.
Looking back, I can’t be too mad. Y.A. went on to have a successful career in the insurance business—which, ironically, is all about making sure people get paid. Maybe he was just giving me my first lesson in cash flow management.
That paper route taught me more about business than I ever expected: cash flow is king, persistence is everything, and sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just don’t get paid.
But Y.A., if you’re tuning in from the great gridiron in the sky—you still owe me six bucks. You were truly one of the greatest, and I’ll miss our conversations. Rest in peace, Mr. Tittle.
