XXXVII: The Boy at Giants Stadium
The leaves are changing, the crisp breeze chills the bones, and the smells of autumn engulf the air. That can only mean that it is election time, and on our radio the following commercial can be heard:
"Bob Menendez is under federal investigation for racketeering charges and is allegedly close friends with the boss of the most powerful crime family in Hudson County...."
One cannot help but ask whether this is a commercial for Bob's opponent, or if it may, in fact, be one endorsing Bob. One thing is certain, upon hearing that commercial you can be nowhere else but New Jersey.
Jokes about the RICO act aside, there is bigger news out of the Garden State this morning, so let's take you back to Friday to set the stage. It was on Friday that the all parents of the Randolph Bulldogs Instructional Clinic (2nd grade) football team (of which James the younger is a participant), received a communiqué that our team had received a last minute invite to participate against the Florham Park Falcons in an 8-minute exhibition at the intermission (halftime) of a football sporting contest between the New York (New Jersey) Jets and the Detroit (Hiroshima) Lions at the Meadowlands Sports Complex (Giants Stadium, capacity 80,242). Of course, this was met with wild adrenaline rushes and spastic screams of "absolutely, where do we sign up," all before the actual participant (Jimmy) was even informed.
So, on Sunday, the thirty-seven member team boarded a charter bus with their coaches and took a 45-minute ride to the Stadium, where their parents met them. A few minutes after the NFL game began, the team was ushered by Jets personnel into the bowels of the stadium, past the locker rooms and the grave site of James Riddle Hoffa (1913-1975), and to an adjacent indoor practice facility to receive further instructions. The coaches spent this time making sure they were going to get all the players on the field for at least one play, and the parents spent this time being more nervous than their children. When the time came, the teams were ushered into the tunnel that led onto the playing field, to await the end of the 1st half. The parents were in a mob behind the teams, and without tickets, would be relegated to trying to view from the tunnel. Four teams would play, meaning two simultaneous exhibitions each taking place from respective 20-yard lines. As luck would have it, Jimmy's team would be in the east end zone, and we were standing in the west tunnel, making viewing less than optimal.
Halftime commenced, and Jimmy's team took the field to the sound of screaming fans. His defensive unit would be in for the first few plays, so we jockeyed closer to the field to get a better view, both of us nervous. His mother was hoping his pants did not fall off. I was hoping he didn't get burned on the corner by the opposing team running a toss sweep, like he did the last game. I need to chill out.
Anyway, on the second play, they ran to Jimmy's side and he made the tackle. Yeah, that's right. He made the open field hit in front of 80,000 drunk Jerseyites who were probably so impaired they thought the Jets were still out there. At least I think he made the tackle; it was hard to tell. It may be that someone else did, and he piled on at the last minute so he could be on the big screen (which he was) when they pulled bodies off the pile. His unit scurried off the field, and the rest was a blur. Halftime ended, euphoria was in the air, and the teams came back to the tunnel, to receive a Jets gift bag and to head to the bus.
As we walked out of the stadium, I asked if he was excited and ready to go home (assuming he would want to ride back with his mom and dad). His reply added about 4 more years to my already exponential aging process as he said, "no, I want to ride the bus back."
Hope all is well.....
Sincerely,
An overly proud papa.
"Bob Menendez is under federal investigation for racketeering charges and is allegedly close friends with the boss of the most powerful crime family in Hudson County...."
One cannot help but ask whether this is a commercial for Bob's opponent, or if it may, in fact, be one endorsing Bob. One thing is certain, upon hearing that commercial you can be nowhere else but New Jersey.
Jokes about the RICO act aside, there is bigger news out of the Garden State this morning, so let's take you back to Friday to set the stage. It was on Friday that the all parents of the Randolph Bulldogs Instructional Clinic (2nd grade) football team (of which James the younger is a participant), received a communiqué that our team had received a last minute invite to participate against the Florham Park Falcons in an 8-minute exhibition at the intermission (halftime) of a football sporting contest between the New York (New Jersey) Jets and the Detroit (Hiroshima) Lions at the Meadowlands Sports Complex (Giants Stadium, capacity 80,242). Of course, this was met with wild adrenaline rushes and spastic screams of "absolutely, where do we sign up," all before the actual participant (Jimmy) was even informed.
So, on Sunday, the thirty-seven member team boarded a charter bus with their coaches and took a 45-minute ride to the Stadium, where their parents met them. A few minutes after the NFL game began, the team was ushered by Jets personnel into the bowels of the stadium, past the locker rooms and the grave site of James Riddle Hoffa (1913-1975), and to an adjacent indoor practice facility to receive further instructions. The coaches spent this time making sure they were going to get all the players on the field for at least one play, and the parents spent this time being more nervous than their children. When the time came, the teams were ushered into the tunnel that led onto the playing field, to await the end of the 1st half. The parents were in a mob behind the teams, and without tickets, would be relegated to trying to view from the tunnel. Four teams would play, meaning two simultaneous exhibitions each taking place from respective 20-yard lines. As luck would have it, Jimmy's team would be in the east end zone, and we were standing in the west tunnel, making viewing less than optimal.
Halftime commenced, and Jimmy's team took the field to the sound of screaming fans. His defensive unit would be in for the first few plays, so we jockeyed closer to the field to get a better view, both of us nervous. His mother was hoping his pants did not fall off. I was hoping he didn't get burned on the corner by the opposing team running a toss sweep, like he did the last game. I need to chill out.
Anyway, on the second play, they ran to Jimmy's side and he made the tackle. Yeah, that's right. He made the open field hit in front of 80,000 drunk Jerseyites who were probably so impaired they thought the Jets were still out there. At least I think he made the tackle; it was hard to tell. It may be that someone else did, and he piled on at the last minute so he could be on the big screen (which he was) when they pulled bodies off the pile. His unit scurried off the field, and the rest was a blur. Halftime ended, euphoria was in the air, and the teams came back to the tunnel, to receive a Jets gift bag and to head to the bus.
As we walked out of the stadium, I asked if he was excited and ready to go home (assuming he would want to ride back with his mom and dad). His reply added about 4 more years to my already exponential aging process as he said, "no, I want to ride the bus back."
Hope all is well.....
Sincerely,
An overly proud papa.
posted by Watts at 1:45 PM
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