Access and Autographs at Annual August Albany Affair

Dad surprised me with tickets to the New York Giants training camp in Albany in August of 1998. It was unlike any professional sporting event I’d ever been to before and have attended since. Sure, I had my share of front row views at Army hockey games. I was there for WTA Finals events and witnessed some killer tennis in knockout summer temperatures. David Wells greeted me in the Yankee Stadium bullpen, literally handing me the ball he used to practice throwing. I’d seen the Jets shrug off another loss as the fans in the upper deck at Giants Stadium got rowdier than a high school bonfire gathering. I even attended autograph sessions at the local mall and met face to face with former Yankees. But the trip nine years ago to the University at Albany campus was different than all of them.
I have scant recollections of #11, Phil Simms and can hardly remember the Bill Parcells era of New York Giants football. I appreciate sports history and my father must have sensed me starting to like the hometown team back in 1997. The great expectations surrounding the NFC East division champions were heightened that summer in training camp. The only hindrance was a fickle offense that had yet to finalize a proper passing system. New York won the hard way, despite the shortcomings. I think that is what initially drew me to the team. As a devoted and faithful Cowboys fan for over a decade, I could never replace Dallas as my number one football team. The Giants certainly did their best to convert my rooting ways. They had many likeable personalities, but quarterback, Danny Kanell, was not one of them. Kanell was the kind of player you gritted your teeth about every time he took a snap. He was more unreliable than unflappable, more shaky than sturdy and more delicate than delectable. As uncharming as their leading man was, I still became a fan of Big Blue. That’s why when Dad delivered the tickets and drove me diligently to Albany, I decided to be a Giants devotee.
The proximity to the Meadowlands and Albany did much to ease my hesitations of abandoning the Cowboys. After all, I had an excuse to like the Giants because I lived in the state. It wasn’t until I discovered Jason Sehorn that I really started following the rival NFC East squad. Sehorn was my man and to me, should have made the ProBowl in 1997. The cornerback would later go on to Hawaii to play and would gain acclaim with the team. He would also earn the taunts and teases of Giants fans for his tackling ability. Any real fan knows the story of Sehorn and the “pants falling down” episode. I won’t go there. All I knew back then was Sehorn was a gifted defensive back with the looks of a male model. Other players were not as enormously endearing to me, but I came to know and like the entire Big Blue team.
I remember seeing the four tall towers of dorm rooms as Dad and I entered the training camp facility. It would have been nifty to attend SUNY Albany, especially if it meant getting daily glimpses of the Giants during the summer. The field itself was unremarkable but fascinating and filled to capacity with practicing players. Stands lined the bleacher seats and the atmosphere was equivalent to a Fan Fest in terms of player access and crowd liveliness and interaction. I don’t know the results of the scrimmage that day. I do know I was able to see some of my favorite players up close. Thanks to my forward Father, I got more personal than I ever imagined.
My dad and I crossed the gate and walked onto the practice field after the game. His exact words to me were, “Well, Lindi. This is your chance to get an autograph. It’s now or never”. I clutched my white nerf Giants football and stealthily strolled into the section where the sweaty, tired, professionals were standing. My dad acted as if he were Jim Fassel himself conducting an offensive drill. He marched up to Brad Daluiso and pointed to me while looking the kicker in the eye. Daluiso must have taken pity on his new fan because he got the hint and took my black Sharpie, prompty penning his #3 signature on the ball. That attracted the attention of other desperate fans and a line quickly formed behind me. Punter, Brad Maynard, stood alone next to his teammate. I did not recognize #9 but remember looking him directly in the eye before moving on to find another player. Snubbing Maynard is still one of the regrets from that day. The other was missing out on seeing Sehorn. My two teenage eyes scanned the scene but could not track down the star cornerback. I did somehow luck out in finding myself standing in front of a smiling Tiki Barber. The running back, #21, was not the well-known Giant he is today back in 1998. He was just coming into his own and he was only too happy to sign an autograph that day. I am still in awe at the ease in which Barber went about his business. It was like interacting with my best friend having Tiki sign my ball. His shiny bald head glistened in the sun as he very briefly welcomed me to Giants camp. Charles Way, the big veteran fullback for New York, was quite the opposite of his backfield counterpart. Way did not utter a word or even look at me when he signed the nerf ball. He peered out across the field as his immense #33 jersey intimidated both me and my father. Tyrone Wheatley was next up. Number 28 was a Michigan product so I wasn’t too thrilled to obtain an autograph. Still, Wheatley had a breakout year in 1997 despite missing the playoffs with an ankle injury. Finally, the Nebraska linebacker, Doug Coleman, lingered near the gate chatting with fans. Dad and I approached him as if meeting up with a famous uncle. Neither of us knew Coleman by his #58 jersey but accepted him autographing my ball and my sister’s Giants playing card. Dad promised to try to get her an autograph and that was the only Big Blue merchandise she owned. An all-in-all eventful Albany affair was over. I may not have succeeded in securing a Sehorn signature, but the summer stint was still sensationally stupendous.
Parting points: Song of the day- “Time of Your Life” by Green Day