Carolina Blue at the Garden

Not many six month old's can say that they were cheered as if they were a minor member of a #17 ranked men's college basketball team.

William "Hoops" Mullin can make that claim.

This past Sunday my little family and I took a trip to watch the St. John's University hoops team take on the Blue Devils of Duke. The tickets were purchased a few months back. Deeply discounted by my corporate benefactors. At the time of purchase, Duke was riding high with a #4 ranking. St. John's was showing some signs of life, playing reasonable, almost NIT worthy basketball. While not the Redmen of the past, they were at least a drizzling Red Storm.
As games go, it could either be an upset by the hometown underdogs, or a chance to see a national title contender. Either way, a fitting game for Diane and I to bring young man Will.

Well.
Leading up to the game the following occurred:
Duke lost four in a row.
St. John's started sucking.
I still had two tickets to a Garden party.

At the very least, I'd get to take my son to see his first game in the Garden, the self proclaimed mecca of college basketball.
I'm not sure how that title stands.
MSG is now home to an uninspiring St. John's team that would be an also ran in the MAAC. At team that has been made Hofstra's cabana boy.
The big post season tournament at MSG is the NIT, where they annually gather to crown the 66th best college team in the nation.

Never the less, it is a mecca of mediocre college basketball, and Haji Will would make his pilgrimage.

So, Sunday morning.
Diane is taking care of some work over the weekend in the home office, so I go to get Will from his crib..
Will's eyes are glassy. Will's nose is runny.
Will obviously went clubbing the night before.

I'm not sure how he got out, or what ID he used.
Maybe he went to a rave... do they still have raves?
Is that a glowstick in his crib?

Nope.
Diane points out that our little man is sick. Germs. Germs I would punch, if they were not quick and elusive and flashing gang signs.

So, we have a sick little baby. We have two tickets to, at best, a lame basketball game.
What to do?
What to do?

We decided to bundle Will up and catch one half of the game. Just one half.
The second half.. because, that is an important half as basketball halves goes.

Driving in, one of us is going on about how St. John's always plays Duke tough. It could be an upset.
Will is sleeping. Diane is getting some tylenol ready for the little trooper.
And one of us is going on about how St. John's always plays Duke tough.

So, we get to midtown. There are two local garages that I, as a corporate behemoth employee, enjoy a substantial discount. The first one?
We can't find. Nope.
Drive around in some traffic for fifteen minutes.
The second one we do find.. and by this time we are about and hour past tip-off. No telling what point this game is at right now.

Bundled up, Will gets tucked into my coat, and zipped up.
Now the issue is the parking validation. To obtain my corporate rate, I need to get my parking sticker punched in the lobby of 8 Penn Plaza. This is one of the building entrances on the other side of the Garden.
The clock is ticking.
The price of parking with the discount is $10. Price without? $30.
The clock keeps ticking.
The decision is made to get the ticket punched after the game.
This decision is made by the person who was going on about how St. John's always plays Duke tough.

Into the Garden and up.
Some people are leaving... never a good sign.
Up and up, we find our section, and walk into the arena.
The scoreboard reveals good and bad news.
Good news, the second half has yet to start.
Bad news, St. John's did start.
The score was Duke 34. St. John's 10.

10 first half points.
Yikes.

Worse news?
We three are starving.

Horrific news?
I took my somewhat under the weather infant son to a crowded arena?
No. Not that.
The lines for food are long.
Very long.

Full of gloating Dukies and "ah fack, let's get pissed" Johnnies.
So baby gets a bottle. Mommy request a dog and a lager. The sound starts for the second half, and I?
I wait.
I wait.
I wait.

Some time later I come back.
12 minutes left in the half. At one point with 4 minutes left we note that St. John's is down by twelve, and the could make a game of this. We quickly realize that this St. John's squad just scored 10 points in an entire half.
Ten points in a half.
The least they have ever scored in a half since the introduction of the shot clock.
They can not make a game of this.

Will rallies however... and with a preternatural ability he starts doing something that it takes most men years to learn; he starts flirting with drunk chicks.
Oh, he was flirting, and they were drunk.
That's my boy.

With two minutes left, St. John's down by 16, a Johnnie fouls to stop the clock.
The crowd responds with a collective ."Really?"

Game ends. St. John's loses with an uninspired effort in a forgettable game. We wait out the departing crowd.
The parking ticket needs to be validated.
We walk around the corner and we see coach buses lined up.
We wallk forward to 8 Penn Plaza.
We see a throng of people wearing dark blue, holding up camera's and holding out shirts and hats.
We see an entrance to a building cordoned off by barricades and New York's finest.

Yes. It is the entrance to 8 Penn Plaza.
Yes. It is where the Duke basketball team is going to make it's way out of MSG and on to their awaiting bus.
Yes. It is where the Duke faithful have congregated to cheer on the victorious Blue Devils as they depart.
Yes. It is where I have to go to get my parking ticket validated.


So, with Will bundled into my coat, Diane at my side, I steel myself and approach the NYPD.
Flashing my corporate ID, "I work for cable, I need to go in and validate my parking"
The door opens, two college ballers run out, flashbulbs pop, and explosion of cheers.
"You work here?"
"Yeah, I need to get my parking sticker validated."
"Hey, he works here?"
"Come on in"

As I walk in, two unidentified Dookies charge out in to the adulation on 33rd Street. Another explosion of exaltation.

The three of us walk in, I punched the parking ticket, exchange pleasantries with the guards... and it hits me.
We have to walk out now.
We have to run the gauntlet.

Diane and I, with Will bundled in my coat, his head poking out the top of my coat.

We walk out through the doors
Cheers come from all sides.
Camera's snap.
"Um, yeah, hi." says I as we hustle down the line.
Confusion takes the tone.
People don't know me, but they do see a 6 month old babies head sticking out of my coat.
Cheers are refreshed.

We break a left through the crowd, right before the bus
A grizzled man, noting William's light blue winter hat ponders "Why is he wearing Carolina blue?"... vexed over which side he is taken in the Tobacco Road rivalry, but not so much wondering why he just cheered a six month old from Wantagh.


Yes, in the confusion they just cheered a six month old from Wantagh.
A six month old not schooled in the rivalry of the Carolina's, but cheered on none the less.
For a moment cheered as if he was a member of the #17 ranked basketball team in the nation.


Will is going to wait a bit before he signs his letter of intent.


So, in review:
Two discounted tickets to a St. John vs. Duke game: $40
Two hot dogs and two lagers: $25
Tolls: $13.50
Discounted parking: $10

Your infant son getting mistakenly cheered as a conquering hero by the Duke faithful?
Priceless.

Wrapping the story up with the ol' Mastercard gag?
Very lame.
Very lame indeed.