She is in Charleston, S.C., shooting CBS ministries called Queen. This day in February 1992 is shaping up like any other, except she has time on her hands for a change. So she turns on the TV. She's not a big TV watcher, but there she is, flipping the channels, bored beyond telling. Finally she lands on MTV, a show called Rock 'n' Jock. They're playing soft-ball, it looks like, and someone is introducing the celebrity players.
Perhaps it is at this moment that fate intervenes, that some invisible angel benevolently taps her on the shoulder. For the face of the man she is destined to marry has come up on the screen: Why, it's...it's....
"David Justice," the announcer says.
In the studio, Halle Berry does a double take. Hmmmm, she says to herself.
She gathers that he's a baseball player, but she doesn't hear the name of his team and probably wouldn't know the first thing about it anyway. By her own admission she's an idiot when it comes to sports. And yet....
David Justice David Justice David Justice
"Who is David Justice?" she asks one of her friends a day or two later. They're talking on the telephone.
"David Justice? He plays for the Braves."
She sighs and tells her friend that she can't get the guy out of her head. She tells her friend about a scheme she has dreamed up. She's going to meet this David Justice. She's going to go to a game down there in Atlanta and make his acquaintance somehow. She'll finagle something through the studio, some kind of appearance.
On the other end, which happens to be Los Angeles, her friend has fallen silent. "Halle," he says after a while. "Don't go chasing after a man. Let love find you."