The Weekly Fare . . . November 21, 2002
Be Careful What You Click For...
The Internet can be a very dangerous thing.
No, I'm not talking about bad chat rooms or inappropriate material for kids - I'm talking about how easy it is to bump into some good info or a product that you just can't refuse. Last February I stumbled across a great deal on a vacation in Bermuda. It just so happened that I had been contemplating a big trip for me and the little misses for our 12th wedding anniversary. So I clicked...
The next thing I know, I'm sipping on a "dark and stormy" next to some very, very blue water. It was April. Our anniversary is in July... you get the idea.. It was fabulous - probably the best trip we have ever taken together. But the rest of the details of this "great deal" didn't come so cheap. Thank God, tickets are always sold as round trip. Otherwise we'd have been swimming back.
My latest foray into sticky parts of the web where I should not be crawling, involved son George and his passion for football. At nine years of age, George is a fan - a very, very big fan. The kind of fan that can tell you most of the colleges where just about every player in the league once played.
Needing a stat on the New Orleans Saints for game 3 this season? Ask George. He'll tell you Aaron Brooks - his favorite player on his favorite team (from his Dad's alma-matter, if you can imagine that), threw for 233 yards and 3 touchdowns. If you press him further he'll admit that Aaron threw for 1 interception as well, but he's likely to add that this performance earned him a "passer rating" of 101.7.
Like I said he's a very big fan.
I've absolutely no idea how he got that way...
About a month ago I found myself reminding myself (Can I write that? Of course I can...), that son George, at age nine, is about four years from entering the world where his Dad is about 5 rungs below chopped liver. It also occurred to me that he really is at the best possible age to see a pro football game. (Apparently the best possible age for me was 41). In any event I clicked around a bit, and eventually found a schedule for the New Orleans Saints (If you're going to try and surprise the boy you might as well reach for the moon...).
As it turned out, I couldn't quite grab the moon, but the stars sure were lined up. There, amongst twelve billion blue and white glowing electrons on my computer screen, were the words, "Panthers VS Saints: Sunday November 10th 1:00 PM.."
"Panthers" as in Charlotte.
"November 10th" as in a date I was not teaching or otherwise obligated at church.
"1:00 PM" as in easily reachable and returnable at a reasonable hour...
So I clicked again and saw the price. "Ouch." I pondered life a moment. And then squinting my eyes and holding my breath, I clicked one more time...
POOF!! George and I were entering Panthers stadium to the roar of the crowd!
Actually the roar was for Shane Graham, the ex-Hokie now Panther Kicker, who had just ka-wanged one in off the goal post from about 55 yards away while practicing. But it felt like it was for George and me. After all, we had 50 years of non pro-football experience between us, and I had a feeling the rest of the 60,000 plus people around us did this on a regular basis.
George's eyes were like saucers.
And so were his old man's. We were two very small minnows in a very large aquarium. Thankfully, this wasn't Oakland or Philadelphia, and most of the other fish large enough to eat us were down on the playing field. George and I made our way to our seats. We were on the 20 yard line, only 4 rows back. They hadn't come cheap, but part of my pondering of life prior to that click had led to the words... "If you're going to do it, do it right...." And so I had.
It didn't take long before I became extremely thankful I'd made the investment. And it wasn't because we were seated so close to the action or even the fact that the Panther Cheer Leaders were about 15 feet in front of us. (O.K. maybe a little bit...) But mostly because the people around us were about as nice as you'd expect to find at any small North Carolina crossroads...
Let me explain.
I am not a big city guy. And for some reason I have never been an especially big fan of Charlotte. To me, "The Queen City" has always represented most of what's "nouveau-wrong" about much of modern American culture. Fifty square miles of Burger Kings and strip joints - inner city slums and vast urban sprawl... What could be good about it? Somewhere in the not-so-vast reaches of my brain I knew the impression was probably never fully deserved, but I carried it around with me, nevertheless - like some self-righteous Spartan who believed every negative thing he had ever heard about Rome.
"Can anything good come out of Nazare... er... Charlotte?"
It took only five minutes in our seats for seven of the nicest folks I have ever met to answer that question. They were, of course, Panther fans - two young couples in back of us - a middle aged man right next to us (who gave up his normal seat so George could see better) and an older couple in front who gave us a twenty minute stadium tutorial during the pre-game warm-ups. George had sheepishly declared himself a Saint's fan (as though his black and gold garb didn't give him away) but all these, "dyed in the light blue wool," Carolina fans had to say in response was that he had picked a "darn good team to pull for..."
For the next 3 hours they went out of their way to make him feel comfortable as the game swung back and forth. In the process we all shared stories and observations that led to the discovery that companies we had once worked for did business with each other, and that siblings and friends had gone to school with others we knew. By the fourth quarter we felt like we were amongst old friends. And we were.
Meanwhile the game kept getting better and better . . .
For those of you who do not follow football, much less the Panthers, suffice to say they have been the Charlie Brown of the league this year. After a strong start, the Panthers have lost their last 5 games by incredibly small margins on the last or next to the last play of the game. Just as victory draws nigh, Lucy pulls the ball away and bam! The Panthers, like poor old Charlie Brown, lay flat on their backs.
But this time things would be different. Our new-found friends were ecstatic as the Panthers roared from behind one more time to take the lead with just over a minute to play. Being a reasonably seasoned sports vet, I knew they had tempered their celebrations so as not to discourage the new nine-year-old fan in their midst. It probably wasn't necessary as George knows how to take a loss, (After all he's a UVA fan too) but it was kind of them to consider his feelings. And it was a great lesson for George.
And as it turned out, it was a pretty good thing they helped teach it to him.
The Saints received the ensuing kickoff, and with less than 45 seconds on the clock, drove down to the Panthers 20 yard line - stopping right in front of George and I and all those cute young cheer leaders. On the very next play George's favorite player, Aaron Brookes, hooked up with his second favorite player, Dante Stallworth, in the corner of the end zone for the game winning touchdown. It was a spectacular pass and catch, on a spectacular day, that made for a spectacular first game for George...
But the game got even better for me.
For as 59,998 rabid Panther fans let out a collective groan that could be heard as far away as New Orleans, one little Saints fan seated in a sea of blue just shy of the twenty yard line, glanced over at his Dad and with a hushed "Yes!" pumped his arm back to his side one time and one time only. He turned to our friend Micah who had given up his seat for him.
"Your team played a really great game... sorry it didn't work out... there'll be other days..." He was as sincere as the Pope.
George turned his attention back to the field. Micah looked over and nodded, "You got a good one there Dad..."
I think so too, of course. I just hope he turns out to be as friendly and genuine as the fine folks I met in the little town of Charlotte last week..
And as long as they're not playing the Saints... GO PANTHERS!