Nothing about Derek Jeter

I've been in hibernation. Well, not exactly. I've not been passing the winter in a torpid or resting state. And how annoying is it to look up a definition and find that you then need to look of the definition of one of the words in the definition? I can kind of guess what torpid means, but has anyone ever actually used that word?

Oh good, I start writing again and already I'm ranting about something. So I wasn't hibernating; it only feels that way. I could blame it on the puppy. One of the best reasons to have a dog is that you can blame stuff on them. Or that I haven't done anything. But I have. I just haven't gotten myself sat down to write.

This takes me back to my college days. By the time I'd gotten to junior year and had figured out how college worked, I specifically took classes that had final exams instead of papers. Because exams happen no matter what you do. Papers only happen if you write them. Same with any other writing, apparently. No matter how brilliant my thoughts may have been, unless I write them down and publish them, nobody will ever read them.

So I'll eventually circle back to the other stuff I've done (buy a car, go to the next-to-last Allman Bros. concert, that kind of thing), but first I want to write about nothing about Derek Jeter.

My mom, as many of you know, passed away this summer after suffering with ALS for nearly 15 years. My parents have been major supporters of the ALS Association since finding out the nature of my mom's illness, and the New York chapter's main fundraiser is a sports dinner banquet thing that they do every year a week or so after the World Series. The MC is Bob Costas and they always have great guests. Sometimes I get autographs, sometimes I chat with the athletes (I went up to the tennis player Pam Shriver to tell her how much I enjoyed watching her play doubles and all she did was whine to me about her kids) and sometimes I just eat and drink and hang out with my dad.

Last year was a huge deal, because the guest of honor was Mariano Rivera, whom I got to meet and have my picture taken with. Because my dad is a big sponsor, we have a table right up front, and Mariano (we're tight now so I can call him by his first name) was at the next table. They always have security for the special guests. They keep you from asking for autographs while the speaking program is going on or when they're eating. Mariano had a guy stationed behind him and if you asked at the wrong time, they'd politely say that you should wait until after dinner or whatever.

So this year, Derek Jeter was an unannounced guest. I'm honestly not sure why he was there. He helped present something to someone, and he donated some items for auction (to quote the auctioneer, "Who wants to bid on some shit Derek Jeter doesn't want anymore?"), which I bid on in rather spirited fashion. He didn't utter a word that was audible to anyone. And he sat at the table right next to us with his post-adolescent girlfriend.

For this occasion, Mr. Derek Jeter was assigned not one, but three security guards. One stood behind, one to the left and one to the right. And you were not allowed to even walk past that side of the table. Now mind you, I think the lowest price of admission was $250 per ticket and the sponsors' tables were $25,000 for 10 tickets. That may actually be understating it. So it wasn't exactly a bunch of rabble there. It was a crowd of rich white guys in suits. The president of the Bank of New York, for instance, was the one who outbid me for the Jeter items. Business people and some sports people as well. This was not the tailgate crowd in Silver Linings Playbook.

So I was there for 2 1/2 hours and Mr. Jeter was kept apart from the other attendees for the entire time, though if you were persistent enough you might have been able to get the security guard to pass him something to autograph. I guess eventually they loosened up a bit because my daughter got her picture taken with him. But I never saw it.

So why was this guy even there? I'd call him a jerk, but this post is nothing about Derek Jeter.