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I’ve never felt that being recognizable made me better than anyone else. I learned early on that celebrities aren’t necessarily better people than the average person. Usually, they’re worse off because they have the means to get away with more. When I first became a police officer in 1988, I met one of my childhood heroes. I was called to Melrose Avenue to assist another officer already on the scene. When I arrived, I saw none other than O. J. Simpson and an attractive blonde lady standing there. They’d been arguing, and she said he’d hit her, though I couldn’t see any visible marks.

I stood there talking to Simpson, who had the same calm, personable voice you’d hear each week on ABC’s Monday Night Football. He didn’t hide the fact that they’d had a disagreement but said his wife had been hitting him and he’d put his hands up to defend himself.

Gene, the first officer, wanted to take Simpson to jail, but I couldn’t stand by and watch this three-time American Football Conference MVP and pro football Hall of Famer get dragged away. I was twenty-four years old and impressionable. “Gene, this is O. J. Simpson. You can’t take him to jail for this. Let me talk to her.”

We told the Simpsons they could each go to jail for accusing the other of domestic abuse. Neither of them wanted that, so we talked it out and Gene and I eventually left. As we drove away, I felt good for saving Simpson from certain public embarrassment.

Six years later, Simpson was charged with killing his wife, Nicole, and her friend Ron Goldman on the steps of her condo. I know it wouldn’t have made a difference if we’d arrested him that day, but I never forgot how I’d been swayed into thinking Simpson was somehow better than the rest of us.

I crossed paths with more celebrities as the UFC’s popularity grew. In early 1997, I got an interesting call from Bob Meyrowitz that demonstrated how much the UFC had penetrated mainstream culture. “How would you like to be on Friends?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know what Friends is?” Bob asked.

Of course I knew what Friends was. In its third season on NBC, it was one of the most watched shows on television. It was also one of Elaine’s favorites.

Meyrowitz explained that the show’s staff had written a premise around the UFC, in which Monica’s Internet millionaire boyfriend enters the Octagon to test himself. When he mentions “the ring” to her, she mistakes it for a pending marriage proposal. I was a little surprised, given the UFC’s current problems with its public perception, that a hit NBC show would want it on, but of course I said yes.

Announcer Bruce Buffer, Tank Abbott, and I were hired for the episode. We were brought onto the NBC lot to rehearse and then shoot.

Some of the actors knew about the UFC and the sport and were very welcoming. Jon Favreau, who played Monica’s boyfriend and would go on to direct the blockbuster Iron Man films, talked about watching UFCs and liking them. Most of the other cast members were very cordial as well.

I was told that the biggest fan on the set was Matt LeBlanc but that he hadn’t been available to shoot on these two days and would kick himself for missing them.

Wow, Joey Tribbiani wants to meet me, I thought. That’s pretty cool.

Former teen actor Robby Benson directed the episode. I remembered him from a college basketball movie he’d done called One on One. I’d loved that movie, but I was too shy to go up to Benson and tell him that.

On the first day, the stunt coordinator approached me and said a couple of stars had questions about the UFC, so I said I’d be happy to answer them.

This tiny woman approached me, baseball cap pulled down low on her forehead. She was so petite I did a double take. “Do people die in this?” she asked, peering up.

I hadn’t even realized who she was at first, and all I can tell you is that she was one of three female leads. I dove into my well-rehearsed explanation, and she listened for about thirty seconds before she turned and