The Zionist Conspiracy
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Memories of Shea - The Rabbi, The Agent and The Ride
The weather was similar to today, with on and off rain, but that didn't stop me from taking a break from yeshiva to go to Manhattan and pick up three field box tickets to that evening's Mets vs. Giants game that my friend had secured.
It was 1988 - I was in tenth grade - and for some reason we felt like we needed a ride home. Most fortuitously, we learned that Rabbi Travis, our secular studies principal, would be going to the game. He'd be taking his sixth grade class in another yeshiva (the elementary school I attended) on a bus.
Could we join Rabbi Travis and his class on the bus, we asked him?
He looked at us like we were crazy for having the audacity to ask, and said that if we went to the game, we'd be in big trouble. He pointed out, correctly, that we'd have to cut our last class to get to Shea on time.
Rabbi Travis was a well-meaning guy, but he was always way less clueless than we'd have liked. Back in 8th grade, I took off - with my parents' acquiescence - the day after my bar mitzvah. I went outside mid-afternoon and there was Rabbi Travis - I wasn't in his class but he recognized me - asking me what I was doing out of school.
In high school, he always had a sixth sense for when we were cutting class, especially if we were cutting to avoid a test.
Long before the advent of e-mail or cell phones, my friend found a ride. The guy renting his parents' basement would be going with a sports agent, and they'd give us a lift home.
We left school shortly after carefully confirming Rabbi Travis' departure, and headed to Shea via the D and 7 lines. When we arrived, it was very cloudy but the rain held up.
The Mets won 6-3 behind Ron Darling, Roger McDowell and Randy Myers. The agent's client - Randy Bockus - pitched a scoreless 8th inning for the Giants.
We stayed for the entire game and were reveling in the victory as we walked in the Shea parking lot. And there was Rabbi Travis, walking briskly past us.
He ignored my attempt at a high-five, instead stating firmly, "Schick, W***** and H******, be in my office tomorrow."