The Boogie Down
September 1st, 2016, 11:32 PM
December 1st, 1979. Not the most memorable of dates. So forgettable I had to look it up before writing this. While at it, I also looked up the week’s most popular TV show, “Three’s Company,” the week’s most popular movie, “10” starring Dudley Moore and Bo Derek, and most popular song, “Enough is Enough” by Donna Summers and Barbara Streisand. Ehhh, okay well, we can at least say there have been some less playful weeks out there. But aside from ending with a disco reference (as a little girl my wife took her very first dance lessons in the studio Saturday Night Fever made famous) the real reason I decided to look up this particular date was because it was when I watched the first college football game that I can clearly remember. Kinda/sorta remember at least. Hey, I do know my team won and won big! I also know I ate up a storm and was beyond happy afterwards.
But first, some tragic 1979 stories…
Every national newscast began with the Iran-Hostage crisis. Far more heartbreaking than that, every local broadcast began with the latest rumors on Etan Patz’ disappearance. The hostages we all knew about. What turned out to be a child's murder wasn’t as openly discussed. Etan was only a few months older than me so aside from some stern “stranger danger” warnings, his disappearance wasn’t something which anyone in my family, or even teachers at school, would openly speculate on. As kids we just assumed his mom and dad would eventually find him. We couldn’t even comprehend the worst, let alone discuss it. That naiveté is understandable at six. Not that as first graders we spent too much time thinking about him or the hostages. Instead, and as bad as this sounds now, we were too concerned with our new discovery, the NFL. Minus a few dickheads (and I’m sure they’ve remained so as adults) who liked the Cowboys and Dolphins (yeah, the Fish once had a national following) I specifically mean our group discovering the NY Jets. It’s funny because ever since Lawrence Taylor won that first Super Bowl the entire Tri-State region has been bluer than Hillary’s upcoming electoral map, but back in that massive yet dilapidated school, the Giants weren’t even an afterthought. Seriously.
Each week would would start on Monday morning with the same “Did you see Todd yesterday?” shouts over various heads from different corners of the classroom. Each would end on Friday afternoon with Li’l Joey detailing what Todd needed to do to get better. Li’l Joey was the older, teenaged son of Big Joe who owned the corner pizzeria. My mom would take me there after school to pick up a pie, always well done and crispy, and while helping his old man around, the teen was always cool with me. Once in a blue moon he’d spare a quarter for Space Invaders. Usually though, we’d just talk Jets. Being at least a decade older, Li’l Joey had seen another Joe play. Not his own pops, although he was big enough to fill out most lines, but instead, the famous one from Broadway. The one who legitimized a franchise and an entire league. Li’l Joe grew up with names like Namath, John Riggins and Rich Caster and was sure to remind me that those Jets were better. Not that I cared. Richard Todd, Bruce Harper and Wesley Walker were my guys and I put faith in them and their many successors for decades. It would take the "Butt Fumble” to finalize my divorce from Gang Green but waaaay before any of that, I truly believed Todd could do whatever Namath had done for Li’l Joey when he had been my age.
But as much as we all loved football on Sundays, it really wasn’t until most of us got closer to Li’l Joey’s age before ever getting into Saturday football. I guess by then the Subway Alumni had all moved to Long Island because even Notre Dame meant nothing to my crowd. Instead, right when Penn State was climbing up the polls on way to a second national title, we found favor with another guy named Joe. Before this particular Joe earned his special place in eternal hell, he was a hero in our parts. He was from Brooklyn. He was Italian. He was old school. He seemed to do things the right way. Most importantly, he won. Still, despite the happy moments flowing in from Happy Valley, Penn State was never truly my team. In fact, unlike my friends who only got into college pigskin as teens, I already had a team as early as the first grade. As early as December 1st, 1979 to be more exact.
It happened during a blowout between my grandfather and father.
Much like an Italian-American version of Archie Bunker and an Italian-American version of Meathead the two would often do the Generation Gap thing. Except there was no laugh track and things were rarely resolved in 22 minutes. On this one particular day however there was resolution. My dad had dropped me off at my grandparents place as he often did on weekends. Soon later the two hotheads locked horns and were at it again. I sulked away to the living room and put on the TV. Saturday football. But this wasn’t just any college game, this was Army vs. Navy.
Army came out in black helmets, black jerseys and yellow pants. Even as a six year old I wondered why were they trying to pass themselves off as the Pittsburgh Steelers? Navy, on the other hand, rocked a color combo I had never seen before. Gold helmets, white shirts, gold pants, navy blue trim. What could look classier? Mind you, Notre Dame wasn’t playing that day and besides, as I later found out, back then the Irish wore green. In fact, after some later years in “Madonna Blue” it wasn’t until Lou Holtz came along that their real colors were finally resurrected. Long before that, and with everyone from the Pitt Panthers to the now LA again Rams all still in yellow, only Navy rocked the best color combo in “big-time” football. By the time those other squads switched to navy blue and gold it was too late. I was already a Midshipmen fan.
After this particularly heated argument my dad came into the living room to retrieve me. He didn’t want me staying with my grandparents. But the game had started and I didn’t want to go. So my dad grabbed a seat, probably to cool off a bit. Since the Jets weren’t playing he also probably assumed I’d get bored. Thing was Navy played as good as they looked so I wasn’t getting bored. I can’t say I remember any of the pageantry but I’m sure the march inside the stadium and Navy flyover left me impressed too. Sometime early on, while my dad was probably debating whether or not he should just order me into the car to go back home, my grandfather also stepped into the room. In all of his 81 years he had never apologized for anything. And I don’t mean that as a positive. Still, simply coming into the living room and not continuing any arguments was an apology in itself. As he sat on one chair, my dad on another, and me somewhere sorta between them from the floor facing the wooden console TV which seemed to weigh more than the three of us combined, my grandfather began talking about his time on the Pacific. He didn’t add any game insights. Aside from boxing he had sworn off all sports the day the Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn, but he told some funny story which, to him, proved how much smarter sailors were to soldiers.
I don’t remember the details, just that it made my dad laugh. My grandfather did see some bad things while bombing Japan’s coast but he was never the ra-ra/gung-ho type. Instead, whenever brining up the war, he always made sure to keep things light. Looking back, those rare occasions were pretty much the only times he ever chose to take a more gentle tone. Anyway, the three of us stayed in that room, three separate generations, but all watching Eddie Meyers completely shred Army to pieces. I’m sure it was just moments after it all ended before my dad and granddad had both forgotten about Eddie Meyers but his name stuck with me for life. He never made the pros like Phil McConkey or Napoleon McCallum but he was the star of the very first and very last football game I’d ever watch with both my dad and granddad.
During commercials I’d run into the kitchen to update my grandma with Navy highlights. She was busy making her famous sauce and the sausage and meatballs (lots of ground pork is the secret, guys) which went into it to care about football, but she'd still flash a beautiful smile and tell me how great it all sounded. I didn’t know it at the time but she had a navy connection too. During the war she worked a factory job at the Brooklyn Navy Yards so I’d like to think that maybe-maybe a teeny, tiny part of her was happy for the sailors. Probably not but she was happy for me. And I was happy whenever running back to the living room and seeing my dad and granddad acting amicably. At some point my dad not only decided to not take me back home, but he phoned my mom to tell her to drop on by as well.
While looking up that 1979 date, I noticed the game was played the week after Thanksgiving. I have no recollection of that Thanksgiving. I don’t remember that Christmas either (although I do remember getting Atari w/Space Invaders the following year!) but watching Army-Navy with my dad and granddad and the feast we all later had are memories that have never left. I can’t remember what the Jets did the next day (despite being easy to look up now, I won't) but I do know I went into school on Monday asking if anyone had seen Army-Navy. Blank stares was the only response. I tried it again a year later, after Navy again demolished Army, but still, more blank stares. That’s when I decided to stick with the pros even if I was now a secret Navy fan.
During the 1980 season I got to see Navy beat Pac-10 champ Washington on ABC, slip passed Syracuse on PIX-11 and again thrash Army on ABC. Not bad for the pre-cable days. My dad who, like my granddad only really cared about boxing, their one thing in common, then surprised me with tickets to something called the Garden State Bowl. Until last season (when taking him to a Fordham game) it was the only college football game we had ever attended together. The luck ended there as through a wicked wind in a half empty stadium Navy was crushed by Houston, 35-0. Still, the Mids remained remarkably competitive against both Michigan and Ohio State on televised games the following season. Things went down a bit shortly later but Navy was still good enough to shock #2 South Carolina in 1984 and surprise Pitt (still in royal blue and yellow) in 1985.
By 1986, just as my friends finally started getting into the college game, Navy began a steep tumble which lasted over 15 years. A new low was reached during a 2-30 run between 2000 and 2002. That concluded an era known for heart breaking losses to Army, constant thumpings to both Air Force and Notre Dame and even more than a few embarrassments to I-AA teams. I'm looking at you Delaware! By then I had my own place and some cable package which allowed me to catch a bunch of different Navy games but there really wasn’t much point in that. Besides, around the same time my alma-mater, Fordham, began giving me a reason to return to Da Boogie Down. Especially in 2002 and 2003 when the Rams put together what is still arguably their best clubs since discontinuing “big-time" ball in 1954.
The Rams were nice enough to take a step back in 2004 and that allowed me to reacquaint myself with Navy football. Of course it could never be like it was when I was a kid but I’ve had a great time watching them become a player again for over a decade now. Too many deeply dramatic wins to list but aside from the usual suspects ('Bama, Ohio State and the many other semi-pro programs) and in fairness, aside from Boise State too, I can’t imagine any fan of any other FBS team having as much sheer fun as Navy has brought over the past 10+ years. Can’t imagine many (any?) programs turning it all around like Navy has since the early 2000s as well.
Despite all that, I actually haven’t been to a single Navy game since the 1980 Garden State Bowl. But Friday morning the wife (who most recently danced at Alvin Ailey!) and I are heading down to Maryland for the weekend. We'll catch Navy kick off the season against my Rams. For me, simply seeing Fordham on the same field with the Mids will be an honor. From Fordham being a D-III team when I began high school, to being one of the worst I-AA teams around when I was up in Rose Hill, to playing in Annapolis? As a long suffering (former) Jets fan, I can safely say this will be my Super Bowl! I can also safely say, regardless of result, and while not thinking about all the different events dominating today’s 24/7 news cycle, I’ll be almost as happy as I was watching my very first game. Way back when there was a temporary ceasefire between my male elders and Eddie Meyers was doing his thing on December 1st, 1979.
http://www.anygivensaturday.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=23453&stc=1
But first, some tragic 1979 stories…
Every national newscast began with the Iran-Hostage crisis. Far more heartbreaking than that, every local broadcast began with the latest rumors on Etan Patz’ disappearance. The hostages we all knew about. What turned out to be a child's murder wasn’t as openly discussed. Etan was only a few months older than me so aside from some stern “stranger danger” warnings, his disappearance wasn’t something which anyone in my family, or even teachers at school, would openly speculate on. As kids we just assumed his mom and dad would eventually find him. We couldn’t even comprehend the worst, let alone discuss it. That naiveté is understandable at six. Not that as first graders we spent too much time thinking about him or the hostages. Instead, and as bad as this sounds now, we were too concerned with our new discovery, the NFL. Minus a few dickheads (and I’m sure they’ve remained so as adults) who liked the Cowboys and Dolphins (yeah, the Fish once had a national following) I specifically mean our group discovering the NY Jets. It’s funny because ever since Lawrence Taylor won that first Super Bowl the entire Tri-State region has been bluer than Hillary’s upcoming electoral map, but back in that massive yet dilapidated school, the Giants weren’t even an afterthought. Seriously.
Each week would would start on Monday morning with the same “Did you see Todd yesterday?” shouts over various heads from different corners of the classroom. Each would end on Friday afternoon with Li’l Joey detailing what Todd needed to do to get better. Li’l Joey was the older, teenaged son of Big Joe who owned the corner pizzeria. My mom would take me there after school to pick up a pie, always well done and crispy, and while helping his old man around, the teen was always cool with me. Once in a blue moon he’d spare a quarter for Space Invaders. Usually though, we’d just talk Jets. Being at least a decade older, Li’l Joey had seen another Joe play. Not his own pops, although he was big enough to fill out most lines, but instead, the famous one from Broadway. The one who legitimized a franchise and an entire league. Li’l Joe grew up with names like Namath, John Riggins and Rich Caster and was sure to remind me that those Jets were better. Not that I cared. Richard Todd, Bruce Harper and Wesley Walker were my guys and I put faith in them and their many successors for decades. It would take the "Butt Fumble” to finalize my divorce from Gang Green but waaaay before any of that, I truly believed Todd could do whatever Namath had done for Li’l Joey when he had been my age.
But as much as we all loved football on Sundays, it really wasn’t until most of us got closer to Li’l Joey’s age before ever getting into Saturday football. I guess by then the Subway Alumni had all moved to Long Island because even Notre Dame meant nothing to my crowd. Instead, right when Penn State was climbing up the polls on way to a second national title, we found favor with another guy named Joe. Before this particular Joe earned his special place in eternal hell, he was a hero in our parts. He was from Brooklyn. He was Italian. He was old school. He seemed to do things the right way. Most importantly, he won. Still, despite the happy moments flowing in from Happy Valley, Penn State was never truly my team. In fact, unlike my friends who only got into college pigskin as teens, I already had a team as early as the first grade. As early as December 1st, 1979 to be more exact.
It happened during a blowout between my grandfather and father.
Much like an Italian-American version of Archie Bunker and an Italian-American version of Meathead the two would often do the Generation Gap thing. Except there was no laugh track and things were rarely resolved in 22 minutes. On this one particular day however there was resolution. My dad had dropped me off at my grandparents place as he often did on weekends. Soon later the two hotheads locked horns and were at it again. I sulked away to the living room and put on the TV. Saturday football. But this wasn’t just any college game, this was Army vs. Navy.
Army came out in black helmets, black jerseys and yellow pants. Even as a six year old I wondered why were they trying to pass themselves off as the Pittsburgh Steelers? Navy, on the other hand, rocked a color combo I had never seen before. Gold helmets, white shirts, gold pants, navy blue trim. What could look classier? Mind you, Notre Dame wasn’t playing that day and besides, as I later found out, back then the Irish wore green. In fact, after some later years in “Madonna Blue” it wasn’t until Lou Holtz came along that their real colors were finally resurrected. Long before that, and with everyone from the Pitt Panthers to the now LA again Rams all still in yellow, only Navy rocked the best color combo in “big-time” football. By the time those other squads switched to navy blue and gold it was too late. I was already a Midshipmen fan.
After this particularly heated argument my dad came into the living room to retrieve me. He didn’t want me staying with my grandparents. But the game had started and I didn’t want to go. So my dad grabbed a seat, probably to cool off a bit. Since the Jets weren’t playing he also probably assumed I’d get bored. Thing was Navy played as good as they looked so I wasn’t getting bored. I can’t say I remember any of the pageantry but I’m sure the march inside the stadium and Navy flyover left me impressed too. Sometime early on, while my dad was probably debating whether or not he should just order me into the car to go back home, my grandfather also stepped into the room. In all of his 81 years he had never apologized for anything. And I don’t mean that as a positive. Still, simply coming into the living room and not continuing any arguments was an apology in itself. As he sat on one chair, my dad on another, and me somewhere sorta between them from the floor facing the wooden console TV which seemed to weigh more than the three of us combined, my grandfather began talking about his time on the Pacific. He didn’t add any game insights. Aside from boxing he had sworn off all sports the day the Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn, but he told some funny story which, to him, proved how much smarter sailors were to soldiers.
I don’t remember the details, just that it made my dad laugh. My grandfather did see some bad things while bombing Japan’s coast but he was never the ra-ra/gung-ho type. Instead, whenever brining up the war, he always made sure to keep things light. Looking back, those rare occasions were pretty much the only times he ever chose to take a more gentle tone. Anyway, the three of us stayed in that room, three separate generations, but all watching Eddie Meyers completely shred Army to pieces. I’m sure it was just moments after it all ended before my dad and granddad had both forgotten about Eddie Meyers but his name stuck with me for life. He never made the pros like Phil McConkey or Napoleon McCallum but he was the star of the very first and very last football game I’d ever watch with both my dad and granddad.
During commercials I’d run into the kitchen to update my grandma with Navy highlights. She was busy making her famous sauce and the sausage and meatballs (lots of ground pork is the secret, guys) which went into it to care about football, but she'd still flash a beautiful smile and tell me how great it all sounded. I didn’t know it at the time but she had a navy connection too. During the war she worked a factory job at the Brooklyn Navy Yards so I’d like to think that maybe-maybe a teeny, tiny part of her was happy for the sailors. Probably not but she was happy for me. And I was happy whenever running back to the living room and seeing my dad and granddad acting amicably. At some point my dad not only decided to not take me back home, but he phoned my mom to tell her to drop on by as well.
While looking up that 1979 date, I noticed the game was played the week after Thanksgiving. I have no recollection of that Thanksgiving. I don’t remember that Christmas either (although I do remember getting Atari w/Space Invaders the following year!) but watching Army-Navy with my dad and granddad and the feast we all later had are memories that have never left. I can’t remember what the Jets did the next day (despite being easy to look up now, I won't) but I do know I went into school on Monday asking if anyone had seen Army-Navy. Blank stares was the only response. I tried it again a year later, after Navy again demolished Army, but still, more blank stares. That’s when I decided to stick with the pros even if I was now a secret Navy fan.
During the 1980 season I got to see Navy beat Pac-10 champ Washington on ABC, slip passed Syracuse on PIX-11 and again thrash Army on ABC. Not bad for the pre-cable days. My dad who, like my granddad only really cared about boxing, their one thing in common, then surprised me with tickets to something called the Garden State Bowl. Until last season (when taking him to a Fordham game) it was the only college football game we had ever attended together. The luck ended there as through a wicked wind in a half empty stadium Navy was crushed by Houston, 35-0. Still, the Mids remained remarkably competitive against both Michigan and Ohio State on televised games the following season. Things went down a bit shortly later but Navy was still good enough to shock #2 South Carolina in 1984 and surprise Pitt (still in royal blue and yellow) in 1985.
By 1986, just as my friends finally started getting into the college game, Navy began a steep tumble which lasted over 15 years. A new low was reached during a 2-30 run between 2000 and 2002. That concluded an era known for heart breaking losses to Army, constant thumpings to both Air Force and Notre Dame and even more than a few embarrassments to I-AA teams. I'm looking at you Delaware! By then I had my own place and some cable package which allowed me to catch a bunch of different Navy games but there really wasn’t much point in that. Besides, around the same time my alma-mater, Fordham, began giving me a reason to return to Da Boogie Down. Especially in 2002 and 2003 when the Rams put together what is still arguably their best clubs since discontinuing “big-time" ball in 1954.
The Rams were nice enough to take a step back in 2004 and that allowed me to reacquaint myself with Navy football. Of course it could never be like it was when I was a kid but I’ve had a great time watching them become a player again for over a decade now. Too many deeply dramatic wins to list but aside from the usual suspects ('Bama, Ohio State and the many other semi-pro programs) and in fairness, aside from Boise State too, I can’t imagine any fan of any other FBS team having as much sheer fun as Navy has brought over the past 10+ years. Can’t imagine many (any?) programs turning it all around like Navy has since the early 2000s as well.
Despite all that, I actually haven’t been to a single Navy game since the 1980 Garden State Bowl. But Friday morning the wife (who most recently danced at Alvin Ailey!) and I are heading down to Maryland for the weekend. We'll catch Navy kick off the season against my Rams. For me, simply seeing Fordham on the same field with the Mids will be an honor. From Fordham being a D-III team when I began high school, to being one of the worst I-AA teams around when I was up in Rose Hill, to playing in Annapolis? As a long suffering (former) Jets fan, I can safely say this will be my Super Bowl! I can also safely say, regardless of result, and while not thinking about all the different events dominating today’s 24/7 news cycle, I’ll be almost as happy as I was watching my very first game. Way back when there was a temporary ceasefire between my male elders and Eddie Meyers was doing his thing on December 1st, 1979.
http://www.anygivensaturday.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=23453&stc=1