Throwing down with Steinberg

T’was the day before Super Bowl at the San Diego Zoo,

And the animals were visited by a celebration crew.

A red carpet was laid by the entrance with care,

In hopes that beautiful people soon would walk there.

The rich in their diamonds and I in my fakes

Were guests at the annual party of a sports industry great.

Leigh Steinberg and partner had decided to host,

A legendary get-together for those who could boast

Good looks, fast speed, a punishing tackle

Or a comedic routine to make anyone cackle.

The master of ceremonies was dressed to impress

And energetically mingled with all of his guests.

The weather was perfect, the location was great,

There was even a man who displayed a giant snake.

Guests of the zoo were lined up at the gates,

Hoping to catch a glimpse of sport greats.

There were athletes with muscles and models with bones

And very important people on cellular phones.

Drinks were abundant, and conversations were light,

I wanted autographs, but it just wouldn’t be right.

Rule No. 1 when rubbing elbows with stars:

Make sure you act like you don’t know who they are.

Not a hard task for me, as it turns out, because I

Didn’t recognize the faces of those who had clout.

Steinberg was the only celeb of whom I had knowledge,

Except for two football players that I had known in college.

Chad Morton, a running back with the New York Jets,

Who is dangerous with every punt return that he gets.

And Carson Palmer, the Heisman winner who led USC to a bowl,

And helped return the school’s program to an esteemed spot in the

polls.

I heard actress Shannon Elizabeth and Oakland Mayor Willie Brown

Were there at the party just hanging around.

Some one said Sen. Boxer had also made her entrance,

But I failed to catch an interview or even a glance.

I shook the hands of many and was hugged by some,

But none of them divulged why they had been asked to come.

Are you an actor, a model, I wanted to question,

But instead waiting politely, hoping they would make mention.

It would have helped if they’d worn tags with their names,

So I would not have had to guess at their claim to fame.

I ran into two good friends I also knew from SC

And met a lot of other journalists who were clueless like me.

We stood around discussing the various media of news

And tried our best to guess at who was who.

It was fun to sit back and watch people shmooze

And the entertainment mounted with the free-flowing booze.

The women were beautiful and dressed to the nines

And only a few looked like they should have been wearing “gold

digger” signs.

Men in suits shook hands and talked about deals,

And others wore jeans and spoke with great zeal.

A tiger strutted quietly through his section of the tent,

And fascinated guests watched everywhere he went.

The mood was lively, people were having great fun,

And jokes were exchanged by everyone.

James, a radio broadcaster, said he had just one gripe:

He could not seem to find there his future wife.

He was looking for someone different, he said after a toast,

But couldn’t find his little missus among the friends of his host.

Maria was always smiling, but had nothing to say,

Except to ask if you would like some food from her tray.

She worked part time to save pay for her classes

And said she planned to run in the same circles as those in the

masses.

It was an hour past the ending time on the invitation,

And only when the lights were turned off did people leave where

they were stationed.

I was lucky enough to grab Mr. Steinberg on my way out

And he proceeded to tell me what the party was all about:

“Its a place where the athletes can just come and relax

And broaden their connections in a pleasurable context.”

Makes sense, I thought as I walked to my car.

I was glad I had gone, even though it was far.

I had fun, met new people -- although I’ll never know who --

And reminisced with a college buddy or two.

The next day was the big game, I thought with delight.

Happy Super Bowl to all, and to all a good night.

* LOLITA HARPER may be reached at (949) 574-4275 or by e-mail at

[email protected].