Rick Reilly: I hated Ray Lewis and then I met him

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The times I loathe myself the most are when I'm so cocksure of something, so bulletproof screwed-down certain, that I don't make room for the possibility that I might not be just wrong, I might be loud wrong.

Take, for instance, Ray Lewis.

Despised him. Didn't trust him. Didn't matter that I didn't know him.

Didn't care that he was a 13-time Pro Bowl linebacker. Never liked the dance. Never liked all of the God speeches. Remember what he said after last season's Super Bowl win? "When God is for you, who can be against you?" What did the 49ers do to piss off God? Never saw any reason a man needed black paint all over his face to play football. It's not faceblack. It's eyeblack.

So when ESPN announced in the offseason that he was joining us on the "Monday Night Countdown" crew? Stuck on the "Monday Night Football" bus with him? Hell on wheels.

I suppose, secretly, I was nervous. I'd criticized him plenty in his 17-year career. Is there anybody in America you'd want mad at you less than Ray Lewis?

And then we met.

Turns out I was a fool. Ray Lewis is not the man I thought he was. He is friendly, open and honest. He wants to laugh -- at himself first and second, and maybe you third. If he's read the things I've written about him, he's not letting on.

You spend 10 hours with a guy every Monday, you get to know him. He plays Words With Friends. He studies photography. His kids light up his phone.

He has his bodyguard -- as though he needs one -- pull soldiers, Marines and sailors out of the crowd, just to meet and thank them.

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The other night, he was in the stands watching his son play safety in a high school game. He's tried not to miss a single football game, volleyball game, dance recital of any of his six kids since he quit the NFL after last season. His son and his teammates were falling for the same trick over and over. Lewis' brain was about to fall out of his ears. Finally, he ran down, jumped the fence, gathered them up and explained what was happening.

He can't help but try to fix things. During one on-field postgame show, he saw how we all were freezing, and the next week bought us all battery-powered heated gloves and heated vests. Wrapped them up and everything.

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After we saw a piece on a player who'd grown up without a father: "Has your father ever re-surfaced, Ray?"

"He did. I was 33. You only get one chance at life, man. You can be bitter and pissed off all you want but time don't stop for nobody. I wanted to make sure he knew that I forgave him."

And two weeks ago, on Dec. 7, Ray Lewis was the best man at his father's wedding in Tampa.

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