By Alex Berger
The line for the Super Bowl was endless. It wound clear around the stadium. A late arrival walked to the front and tried to push his way in. A burly fan who had been waiting for the gate to open since 8 a.m. growled at the late arrival and heaved him 50 feet back into the line. A second time, the man tried to edge his way into the front and again was tossed back by two men and their wives.
After the third time, the late arrival picked himself up and said, “If you don’t stop throwing me out of the line, nobody’s getting in today. I have the key.”
I was very disappointed by the performance of my beloved New York Giants last year. They did not play very well. It has taken me all this time for my handkerchiefs to dry. I felt sorry for myself and all the other grieving fans. And, in particular, I felt sorry for the Giants’ players who didn’t make it to the Super Bowl and win Super Bowl rings. And to think, the New England Patriots (of all teams) are the champions of the football world and received the coveted Super Bowl rings.
Ugh! This is like giving Saddam Hussein the keys to the executive bathroom in the TimesLedger office.
Many of you probably have seen pictures of or read about the renowned Super Bowl rings — those glittering, golden, circular pieces of metal studded with diamonds that adorn the fingers of winning Super Bowl players. But did you know that one very special year, in 1990, the wondrous bejeweled Super Bowl ring made a brief stopover in Whitestone? Yes, Whitestone.
The story unfolded several years ago when a Whitestone resident (me) was busy pulling his hair out trying to figure out how he was going to pay the college expenses for his high-school senior son, Jon, who would be college-bound the following year. Between strands of falling hair, he was approached by that very same college-bound son who said, “Dad, I got a summer job in the New York Giants training camp in Pleasantville, N.Y. as a crowd-control guard.”
I naturally was thrilled. My own flesh and blood working for my favorite football team — but why couldn’t my son have been a Giants quarterback instead, I pondered? Hey, don’t complain, I kept telling myself. After all, two wallets contributing to Jon’s college expenses must be better than my slim one.
Well, Jon did work that summer and I did visit many times, and, at summer’s end, Jon was off to college to study computer science.
“Dad, the Giants offered me a college internship. It involves working in public relations and it is a great opportunity for me. What do you think?” Jon inquired.
“That is fine, son,” I answered, but my mind-set still preferred that he be a quarterback, instead.
“Dad, now that I have graduated from college, the Giants want me to set up a computer program for them. They knew that their arch-enemy, the Dallas Cowboys, already had set up a sophisticated computer system and the Giants do not want to be left behind.”
“That is wonderful, son,” I replied, but inwardly I was thinking that a silly old computer could never replace a good quarterback for the Giants.
“Dad, only the players and coaches get Super Bowl rings,” Jon told me in 1987, following the Giants victory in Super Bowl XXI. I knew it. No one is going to give a Super Bowl ring to a computer maven.
It now was 1990 and the Giants were victorious in Super Bowl XXV. “Dad, I am getting a Super Bowl ring of my own,” gushed Jon, my now married son who was living in Staten Island at the time. “They said that I was an important member of the team and my computer helped win the Super Bowl.”
“A Super Bowl ring! A Super Bowl ring! This is really being in heaven without dying,” I said as I kept pinching my unbelieving self. I yelled to Gloria, who was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner, “Drop your apron and grab your coat, my love. We are going out to celebrate Jon’s Super Bowl ring.”
“Dad, I just got my ring and I am coming over to show it to you.”
My head whirled and my heart would not cease pounding. An eternity later, the doorbell rang and the moment I was waiting for arrived. I found myself gawking, wide-eyed, at Jon’s bejeweled ornament, which glowed brightly around his finger.
The ring was an eye-popping, bespectacled mix of diamonds and gold. For several minutes I stared at it in complete admiration, drinking in the moments. I never thought I would ever see the day when a Super Bowl ring would be visiting me in my Whitestone home.
“I am proud of you, son,” I said to Jon. “You convinced me. A computer is worth more than two quarterbacks.”
Earthy Gloria then chimed in, “Yes, but can Jon’s ring present us with a grandchild?”
Hmm! interesting point, so let’s compare the two.
Jon’s 1990 Super Bowl ring — the 10-karat gold band has a value of more than $8,000. It is composed of 16 diamonds, four at the corners (eight points), and 12 others scattered around (five points). Its two marquis diamond footballs contain 3/4-carat diamonds (75 points). And, inscribed on the gold band are images of Giants Stadium, the final Super Bowl XXV score (20-19) and Jon’s name. It weighs in at 32 pennyweight. What a ring!
On the other finger — I mean on the other hand, grandchildren come in shades of blue for a boy and pink for a girl. They usually weigh between 6 pounds and 8 pounds in childweight. Their eyes are diamonds, their teeth (when they grow in) are pearls and their love is 18K pure gold. A grandchild’s appraised worth is estimated at a value far greater than all the gold and diamonds in the world. Hmm, again. Yes, grandchildren are a greater treasure.
Jon and his wife, Alicia, heeded Gloria’s request and finally presented us with a pair of grandchildren — Justin, a blue-shaded one in 1993, and Keri, a pink-shaded one in 1999. And, guess what? I really do like them better than Jon’s ring; however, I still await the day when the Giants win another Super Bowl and I place both Super Bowl rings on their fingers. (Yes, the Giants went to the Super Bowl in 1991, but since they lost, they never received Super Bowl rings.)
Reach columnist Alex Berger by e-mail at timesledger@aol.com or call 229-0300, ext. 140.
