Overview:
I have a favorite line when things take a year and a day to go from here to there:
“I was making good time until I got into my car.”
The great puzzle called MetLife Stadium. (Michael Lewis/FrontRowSoccer.com)
By Michael Lewis
FrontRowSoccer.com Editor
I have a favorite line when things take a year and a day to go from here to there:
“I was making good time until I got into my car.”
Literally, that’s what Sunday’s World Cup final was all about.
The game plan was to get up at 6 a.m., get breakfast for me and my wife, Joy, and leave at 7 a.m. for the 7:31 Long Island Railroad train from Ronkonkoma to New York City, so I could pick up the media shuttle for MetLife Stadium.
There was one slight problem: The train left at 7:20.
I looked at the online LIRR schedule, and sure enough, it said 7:31.
So, I had to wait for the 8:06 train.
Before I exited the train at Penn Station, I ran into a pair of fans, one wearing an Argentina shirt and the other a Spain jersey. I asked them if they were going to the game.
They weren’t, but they asked me if I was.
I told him I was covering the game, and they wanted to know who I thought would win.
I jokingly replied that I’d better not reply because one of them would beat me up if they heard the answer.
They laughed.
The Argentina supporter said that he felt Spain was going to win.
I was impressed with his answer and agreed with him.
After walking a couple of blocks to the media shuttle at the Even Hotel on 35th Street, I hopped on the 10 a.m. bus, which left about five minutes beforehand. They were sending buses after they filled up.
Oh, and I realize that there is a Brian in this story. Don’t worry. He will make an appearance soon.
We made decent time to the Meadowlands, getting there at 10:25.
Then came the adventure. Or should I say, misadventure.
The media shuttles were not allowed to park in their usual spots, which jumbled things up for many journalists.
We got off the bus and looked for media security lines. We wound up on a security line – for fans. And it was pretty long.
It looked dire until several Hispanic media members, who I did not know, and a Bulgarian journalist, had me cut in line with them.
This is someone who follows the rules. So, I felt guilty cutting in line. But then again, none of the fans complained.
I was ready for security, which was ultra-tight because President Trump was going to attend the match. I put my wallet and keys into my backpack, supposedly out of harm’s way.
A Secret Service member went through my backpack thoroughly. In fact, he was so thorough that some paper fell out of it. I was worried about my keys. He also was very polite.
Fortunately, nothing was lost.
At 11 a.m., I found some shade and did a 10-minute interview on the Mad Dog Radio Show on SXM Radio. One of the best interviews I’ve had at the World Cup.
Because I entered through fan security, I didn’t know where the media entrance was. And that started my problems.
Even though I went through security, I couldn’t find the entry. I walked around the stadium, but no luck.
I ran into Brian Lewis of the New York Post, a writer I have known for three decades. He told me his story of how he showed up at the stadium at 8:30 a.m., went through security, and was trying to find his way to the press box.
Translated, he was in the same boat as I was.
Actually, it was worse for him because he had injured his right foot earlier in the day.
We walked around the outside of MetLife, trying to find a way in. It was probably not unlike what many Spain foes have experienced during the World Cup, trying to find their goal. Ours was the press box.
We walked upstairs into the stadium, even following signs for the media elevator. Suddenly, the signs stopped.
So, we ventured outside the venue.
We were literally walking in circles. It seemed like forever, although it was more like 45 minutes.
We made our way inside the venue again and put our experienced minds together. We figured a service elevator could bring us up to the press box level on the sixth floor.
That elevator was an experience and a half as it stopped at several floors. Rolling trays of food were being moved in and out floor by floor, as we stood in the back, hoping our strategy would work.
I kicked myself for not taking any photos of our time in the elevator. It would have put things into proper perspective.
Finally, the elevator hit the sixth floor and we found our way to the press box.
I sat in what was called Press Box C, the fourth row. It was closer to one of the goals, while the other net seemed miles away.
I didn’t mind. I got a seat.
This writer learned that lesson in Pele’s final competitive for the New York Cosmos against the Seattle Sounders in Soccer Bowl 1977 in Portland when I was writing for the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. Instead of being seated with my colleagues from the New York City and New Jersey newspapers, I was situated in the auxiliary press box behind one of the goals.
Needless to say, I wasn’t happy.
Until one of the most important plays happened right in front of me.
That’s when Cosmos forward Steve Hunt stole the ball from Seattle goalkeeper Tony Chursky and tallied the first goal of the match. And I had a ringside seat to it!
The entire sequence is still etched in my memory.
This past Sunday, I was just content to be in the press box to witness the final World Cup game of my career – No. 118 – with room for my computer and some electricity.
As a reporter, that’s all I need.