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Then he looked back at the road.Finally he said six words that changed my life: “I think that is your brother.”You gotta be fucking kidding me! I thought.As we made our way north, he began to tell me his story. Once upon a time, he’d meta girl and fallen in love. They were young, and married hastily, the way so many youngpeople of that generation did. My father went to war, and when he returned home hewas greeted by his wife and his bouncing baby boy. But the marriage, which had cometogether in a hurry, fell apart. The young couple had split, and she’d taken their son.From what I could decipher over the years, my father saw Michael last when the boywas two and a half years old. After that, my father never saw either the boy or hismother again. Shockingly, my mother had known all along about this relationship—andmy father’s firstborn son—but had never breathed a word of it to us.Not just one but both of my parents had kept this secret from Brian and me.I was stunned. I was glad that my father was driving or I probably would have drivenus off the road.How do you like that? I had another brother. He was out there in the world, on TV,making a name for himself. And he knew next to nothing about us.“Would you ever want to meet him?” I asked my father.He shrugged it o, suddenly awkward and uncomfortable. I knew the conversationhad run into a brick wall.But I didn’t let it die. Together, my brother Brian and I pressed the issue. Sometimelater, we had a more serious conversation with my father and he admitted that he hadlong wondered how his other son had turned out. He was proud of Michael’s success, buthe was torn. He didn’t know if his son, who was now in his early forties, was interestedin hearing from him after all these years.“Don’t worry about him,” we told him. “Think about you. Are you open to meetinghim?”“Yes,” he said.I began working the phones to nd out more about Michael. At one point I evencalled the oces of Don King, the great boxing promoter, to track down Michael. Andone night a few months later, Michael was announcing a ght at the Country Club inReseda, where they lmed the opening club scene in the lm Boogie Nights. It’s just overthe hill from our home in Malibu. The show was live, and we were watching in my dad’shome.“Look,” we told him, “he’s here in town right now. Why don’t you call him?”We handed him the number of the venue.My father got up and walked to the phone. A short time later he was talking withMichael, who was open to meeting him for lunch. I found out later that Michael had arefreshingly open attitude about the whole thing. A lot of people would have held agrudge after all that time. But not Michael. He probably gured, Look, let me go meet theguy. If he’s nice, great. I’ll have two fathers: the man who raised me and my biological father.If I don’t get along with Joe Buffer, no harm done. I never have to see the guy again.The two met for the rst time at a restaurant in Century City. I’m happy to report