The Day I Met "The Boss"

The songs of Bruce Springsteen were the “coming of age” anthems for many people of my generation. Throughout my high school and college days, Bruce and the E Street Band sang of living and playing in Asbury Park, NJ and about the Jersey shore and boardwalk. We still love his raspy voice, his scruffy exterior, and his Jersey roots.
My son George is the boys’ varsity soccer coach at a high school in Red Bank, NJ. I and my youngest son Donnie recently went to a Saturday afternoon game which was held at a private school in Monmouth County. After the game, we joined George by the parking lot. After greeting us, George whispered, “Bruce Springsteen is over there.” I whipped my head around, saying “Where? Where is Bruce?” He pointed to two men and a woman with a red ponytail leaning on the fence that surrounded the field. Turns out that Bruce’s son played on the team that my son’s team just beat. I stared open-mouthed as Bruce and his wife Patti chatted casually with another man. George’s team and their families stood silently, gazing at The Boss’ back. If Bruce had glanced back at us, he would have seen a semi-circle of green-clad soccer players standing like statues with their mouths open, gawking at him.
Donnie inched his way up, camera phone at the ready, and began snapping pictures of Bruce’s back. Without thinking, I began to walk up to Bruce. Then stage fright set in, and I abruptly turned and headed back to where Donnie stood. He said, “Go, Mom. You know you want to,” and with that, I marched up to Bruce Springsteen, put my hand on his corduroy-clad arm, and said softly, “Excuse me.”
He turned around and I found myself face-to-face with The Boss. This man had provided the musical score for my young adulthood. And here I was, staring at his chin wordlessly. The first thing I noticed was how tall and slim he was. Then I noticed his shoes. He had on bright blue, patent leather track shoes. Realizing that Bruce was waiting for me to say something, I stuck out my hand.
“I am sorry to bother you, but I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done, all your music, and you are awesome, we all think so, and we really love you, and thank you so much, we love you and I am sorry to bother you,” I babbled, all the while shaking his hand.
Bruce smiled, kept shaking my hand, and said, “Oh, no bother. I appreciate it. Thank you very much.” His wife Patti smiled over his shoulder, and we kept shaking hands until I realized that a graceful exit was needed. I dropped his hand and backed away from him, continuing to thank him. He kept smiling, and then turned back to the conversation that I had interrupted.
I was in a daze the whole hour-long drive home. I had just shaken hands with Bruce Springsteen! Questions rose to my mind, things I wish I had asked him: Where do you get all your ideas for songs? Is Miami Steve Van Zandt really as cool as he seems? Where do you live, and could I come over and stay for dinner?
I admit I was starstruck. I have met very few celebrities: Jake LaMotta, the boxer whose life inspired the movie “Raging Bull”, Geoff Geary, Aaron Rowand and Ryan Madsen, all Phillies players. I once talked to Christopher Reeve on the phone (long story). And I saw Rosemary Clooney from far away. But Bruce Springsteen! It took me about 20 minutes to text everyone I could think of, telling them about my adventure.
Now I torture myself with “I wish.” When I think back on the meeting, I wish I had gotten his autograph, or my picture with him, or his phone number. I wish I had dressed a bit nicer, instead of wearing a grey tee shirt proclaiming my allegiance to George’s soccer team. I wish I had had my nails done and my hair styled and my face professionally made up. I wish that I had had a microphone and a back-up band and some singing talent, so that I could have auditioned for him. But hindsight is 20/20. I content myself with the knowledge that the Boss and I made a connection that day, and I am sure he will never forget it.