“I want to get a testimony right quick,” the preacher man said. “We got some stars out here that loveee Jesus!”
The preacher man descended from the pulpit, down a few steps of the patterned carpet at Without Walls International Church in Tampa, Fla., and beckoned for a brotha blessed for prime time.
“Deion,” the preacher man called out. “Deeeeeionnn Sanders!”
Before he could say another word, men from each corner of the chancel hooted and howled. Women cheered and clapped in euphoria. In the front row that day in the early aughts was Deion Sanders — sharply dressed in a floor-length, pinstripe stunna suit, two-toned wing tips and his signature half-inch cut.