It's Not What You Know

One of the key lessons my Dad taught me as I was growing up was that the connections I made to other people over my life would be more important to me than the information I accumulated in my brain. Put simply, he said, "It's not what you know, it's who you know." Over the years, I've managed to develop ties to top scientists in multiple fields, comedians, multiple theatre companies, and an impressive collection of professors, professionals, managers and important government workers as my friends have moved up from entry-level jobs to positions of more authority. Oh, and I also know some ne'er-do-well reprobates. Oddly enough, few of these connections have been especially helpful in my current career in education.

Yet, it seems that the person who recently has been the source of the most useful connections has been the man who imparted that wisdom to me in the first place, Old NoHips McRugbyWounds, pictured here (back right) enjoying a hockey game with some of his friends. See, now that he's in charge of an entire university, he's seriously big. And not just because he gets to go to dinner and a hockey game with Wyatt Earp and Private Benjamin. No, Alabama's connections do not end at Hollywood. It was brought to my attention some time ago that Dad was also in contact with the family of a certain member of the New York Giants. Once they found out that I lived in the city, they instructed my Dad to inform them if I "ever wanted Giants tickets." Since it's a.) nearly impossible and b.) prohibitively expensive to obtain Giants tickets, I was interested. There was even the possibility of meeting some of the players after the game!

"Is there any game in particular you'd like to see?" asked Dad. My Pennsylvania heritage got the better of me and I opted for the matchup between the Giants and Eagles. So this afternoon, SecondLaw and I bundled up (reeeeeeeally bundled) and headed for the Meadowlands. I was actually amazed at the ease with which we were able to get from Queens to New Jersey. NJ Transit runs a continuous series of buses from the Port Authority bus terminal to Giants Stadium on game days. It's remarkably efficient. Our total time from arrival at the bus terminal to purchasing tickets to getting on a bus and departing was less than ten minutes.

Neither of us had ever been to the stadium before and we also had no idea where we were sitting. We picked up the tickets at Will Call and found our appropriate entrance. After the obligatory fondling from security we went to the top of the 300 level to find our seats. Even though we were high up, we had a clear view of the whole field and had no trouble discerning what was taking place during the game. We even confidently disagreed with calls made by referees standing 1/100th of our distance from the play.

The game itself was a great matchup. There was no score for some time as both teams battled the wind and cold and struggled to establish a running game. When the Eagles finally broke through, the Giants looked like they were dead in the water until blocking a last-second field goal at the end of the first half and running it all the way back for a touchdown.

Say, I just thought of something. Am I disseminating an account or description of this game without expressed written consent right now? Maybe I should just say that it was a...um...good game and we both had a...uh...good time. Oh, and I should add that the halftime show was a bunch of kids playing drums who were really entertaining and in the third quarter our (likely unknowing) patron suffered a knee injury and did not return to the game. Anyhow, the Giants lost in the end (I don't think that constitutes an account or description) and we left the game with SecondLaw being one of the only happy people in the stadium. We also left the game with little feeling in our extremities. Despite my long-johns, sweatshirt, vest, overcoat, hat, two pairs of gloves and scarf, I was cold. SecondLaw's five--yes, five!--layers of clothing were insufficient as well. Let that be a warning to any of you who should find yourselves headed for the upper deck of the Meadowlands any time soon. Even so, we had far too much fun to let chilly toes drag us down.

We returned home after a great afternoon to discover that the friend of my father who'd arranged all this had emailed me saying how very sorry he was that we hadn't gotten a chance to meet the players and that he promised to arrange it for "next time." Well, gee golly, I suppose that means we'll have to do this again! I always look forward to the chance to meet new people. Especially new famous people. Because after all, it's not what you know...