Where does 16 years of blogging the Giants come from? It comes from my Dad.
Sports was everywhere. My Dad’s love of sports infected my siblings and me, and pro football was the best. Dad was a sports savant. He was a basketball recruiter for the University of Illinois. He didn’t do it full time, but he knew enough. One time we were at my local high school’s basketball game and some guy approached my Dad. “I hear you do some college recruiting,” said the man to my father. “My son’s very good and I’d appreciate it if you’d have a look.” “What’s his name?” asked my Dad, politely. After not recognizing it, my Dad knew the score- it was over. The quantum jump required to go from playing high school to college was massive. Speed. Size. The man pleaded with my Dad to go check him out, and my Dad acquiesced out of kindness, knowing what the result would be. He explained to us afterwards, a teaching moment, that nearly all kids who are blessed to play varsity high school basketball cannot make it to a Division 1 program. Much bigger size. Much faster speed. He understood the way of the sports world.
Once before on this blog I shared the shock in finding out that Dad was at the 1958 Colts Giants championship game. “The greatest game.” The one that vaulted the NFL to prominence. He was at the legendary game! He said that his subway ride home from the Bronx to Brooklyn was a haze. Numb. Bitter loss.
He’d have that transistor radio by his ear to get updates on the out of town games. He was a prodigious writer who would send missives out regularly far and wide. Those letters were legendary. Thick envelopes filled with newspaper articles. Scotch tape on the corners which required a chainsaw to open it. And don’t ever try putting all of it back in the same envelope- that’s impossible.
Circumstance would work against him; he missed his true calling as a sports journalist. He wrote those insane letters to George Young, with enough insight to force Young to inquire with Mike White, the then Head Coach of Illinois’ football team, who was this guy? White told Young that Marvin Furman was the real deal and he had chops. What resulted was an over 10+ year correspondence between Young and my Dad. “Clippings,” was how Young referred to Marvin, who was inundated with those envelope masterpieces. They’d share insights into Big 10 prospects regularly. Dad knew the score.
When I framed my engineering degree and went into trading, my father was upset. He knew my science abilities would be thrown to the side in the commodities pits. Years later it would all go full circle as I’d leverage math & engineering to become an options trader and risk manager. He ended up being right all along. Dad knew the score.
I’d spend enough of my time thinking about politics and the country’s leadership. This was discussed with my friends and my stepfather. Not with Marvin. He was such a blank on politics that I didn’t even know if he was registered as a Republican or Democrat… seemingly apolitical. Yet once every 5 or 10 years, instead of talking Giants or the markets with him, we’d accidentally drift into politics, and he would unload more insight into one sentence than I’d had the past decade.
Marvin was everyone’s friend. On the trading floor, a place with too much competition for having many friends, the place was littered with people who had chosen the dark side. Yet everyone loved and respected Marvin because he loved and respected them. Whether you were a trader or the coat check person, he was a sincere friend who brought out the best in everyone. His soul lit up an otherwise hostile domain. (My brother) Michael was there. I was there. We saw it. He was everyone’s Dad, creating a kedush Hashem, a sanctification of G-d.
Last year, when I shared the news with him that (my daughter) Frances had met someone and it was serious, he was happy for Frances and wanted to hear more. Dad’s heart was filled with excitement about their future together. You see, underneath all of the sports, my father is a mush. He’s about love. Every single time he saw/spoke with me he told me he loved me. That love is the reservoir which enables me to tell my wife and children how much I love them. Every day. Dad really knows the score.
96 years. A full life. As his years were winding down, he said that he didn’t have much more time. He had doubts about seeing Joe Schoen and Brian Daboll’s creation come to Super Bowl fruition. Not 8 days before his last breath he shared that he was ready to go, that it was time, the final snap at the end of the game.
I was tasked with instructions from my father many years ago that when he passed, I was to visit him at his resting place. Here goes!!
SF (old Polo grounds) Giants 4 Diamondbacks 3 The Giants were down 3-0 and came back with 4 runs to win off of homers from Crawford and Matos. The SF Giants are now 2.5 games out of first.
Giants Training camp update: Art Stapleton reports: “it’s been pretty balanced performance-wise between offense and defense. Haven’t seen sloppy yet. A first for me in 13 camps this early.”
We gather here to tell Marvin how much he’s loved and will be missed. Now, in passing, my Dad knows the score.
To the greatest Giants fan of them all, rest in peace.