So there I am at the Flamingo Theater in Anaheim, Calif., in my beige linen suit and matching shoes, waiting for Leilani Rios to strut out on stage and do her thing. I had seen Leilani "dance" several times before while reporting her story for SportsCenter and The Magazine (click here to read it), but I'd always been tucked away in the back or behind the stage with our camera crew. This was different. It was "Support Leilani Day," and a local radio station was broadcasting live from the club to drum up some love (and dollar bills) for the young woman who refused to quit her job at the club to stay on the Cal State Fullerton track team.

This time I had walked in the front door, paid my $5 cover and nervously looked around for a seat. The place was jammed. I spied a long, unoccupied bench to my left and quickly walked over and sat down. Almost immediately the manager came over and suggested that I'd be more comfortable "over there." But "over there," was the front row, a seat lined smack up against the stage and sandwiched between two burly men in bad shirts. I said I'd pass, that I was fine "right here." Except that, as I figured out later when I looked to the ends of the bench into the darkened corners, "right here" was lap-dance territory.

Said Leilani when I found her backstage after the show: "I wondered who that lady was sitting there fully clothed."

E-mail Shelley Smith at shelley.m.smith@espnmag.com.