In the mid-1970s, Raymond Chester converted his garage into a clubhouse. The former Raiders tight end enlisted the help of two of his closest friends from his days in Oakland, and the trio got to work, drinking beers and assembling his blue pool table and three-foot speakers blasting David Bowie.
Mahogany panels on the walls with a burgundy carpet and a kennel full of Great Dane puppies right outside, the players got to talking about what they wanted to do later in life. Chester and Gerald Irons eventually went into business after their playing careers were done; Carl Weathers, who was there to take home a puppy he would name Cherry Kijafa, was an up-and-coming actor who had some small roles in television shows such as Good Times, The Six Million Dollar Man and Kung Fu, and had aspirations of hitting the big time. And on that day he couldn’t hide his excitement about one role he had gotten: a boxer.
Growing up in New Orleans, Weathers had thought about acting ever since a teacher, Mr. Slush, gave him a role in a play the teacher had written himself. The role had a singing number; Weathers loved it. When the crowd laughed after a joke or cheered on cue after a perfectly delivered line, it gave him something. Even as a grown man in an NFL locker room, that feeling—and that need to chase it—persisted.
