Getting Jimmied Into a Full Giants Stadium

Fourteen years on the Jimmy Hoffa Watch, and I can finally rest easy thanks to Playboy magazine. In “Hoffa Goes Deep,” federally protected witness Donald “Tony The Greek” Frankos claims Hoffa’s dismembered body was mixed into cement and buried under the end zone -- the old coffin corner -- near Section 107 of Giants Stadium. Case closed. Geraldo will be there with bulldozers and a film crew in the morning.

So congratulations to the winners in the “Where’s Jimmy?” pool.

I didn’t have Section 107. My entries were: 1) Off ramp, Jersey Turnpike, Rahway exit; 2) MX missile silo, shuttling on the underground railroad tracks between Utah and Wyoming; 3) Trump Plaza; 4) coaxial cable, Weather Channel; 5) trunk, red 1974 Mercury Cougar, satellite parking, O’Hare.

Before the winner claims his prize, though, I have some questions: I’m not convinced of the exact coordinates of Jimmy’s remnants. (Leaving aside for the moment what bad seats they are, end zone for Jimmy Hoffa? One of the all-time greats stuck for eternity down low in a corner? I thought Hoffa would get a better seat than that -- after all, he got to the stadium so early. Hoffa won’t stand for these seats much longer. By now he’s surely got his name on the Dead Celebrity Waiting List.) The story says Jimmy was fileted, wrapped in plastic bags -- shameful neglect of the environment, not using a biodegradeable product -- and buried in cement. But the Giants insist there isn’t any cement under the end zone. I’m satisfied Hoffa’s inside Giants Stadium, but doesn’t it seem more logical a Teamsters man like Jimmy would be part of the concession stands?

FBI: Any late word on Hoffa?

NFL: Yeah, he’s doubtful this Sunday against the Cardinals.

Hoffa is hardly the only famous dead guy in the Meadowlands swamp. Anywhere they built Giants Stadium they’d have landed on someone. (Nor is Hoffa the only guy to get buried in Giants Stadium. It often happened to Jay Schroeder.) But the moral question is: Should Hoffa, shall we say, remain there?

Hoffa’s a Detroit guy. (Well, okay, now he’s a Jersey guy.) I figure him for a Lions fan. It’s got to be disturbing Hoffa’s family that he’s all wrapped up, so to speak, with the Giants. Out of fairness, the Giants could send him to the Silverdome for proper interment.

In the meantime, so long as Hoffa’s there, the Giants ought to make use of him. There will surely be banners draped over Section 107 renaming it “Jimmy’s Joint” or “Hoffa’s Heaven.” The organist will play songs in Hoffa’s honor: “Go Jimmy Go,” “Shake, Rattle and Roll” and “Look For The Union Label.” Instead of calling for his wide receiver to run a “fade pattern” into the end zone, Phil Simms should bark, “Blue right, Z-68, Hoffa! On two. Break.” When one of Sean Landetta’s punts mistakenly lands in the end zone, Bill Parcells could scream, “I told you to pooch it, not give me a Hoffa!”

The New York Post has already compiled a list of Hoffa jokes that include: The Jimmy Hoffa movie will be called “Turf Guys Don’t Dance”; the Giants will be penalized for putting 12 men on the field; At last, the Giants have a deep threat; Hoffa gets penalized for intentional grounding. I’m assuming CBS will take due note of the story on the telecast Sunday. John Madden can use his Telestrater to diagram the precise route Hoffa took to the end zone. “ ... And then, BAM, they dumped him in the oil drum, and, BOOM BOOM, they drove him through the Lincoln Tunnel. ... “

Do you think this could become a trend, burying celebrities in stadiums? Is it possible we will hear radio bulletins like: “Vanna White announced today she wants to be buried in the Rose Bowl. She said she knows all the letters, she’ll be comfortable there.”

What would this do to the price of tickets? Would you spend more for a seat directly above a dead celebrity? Years ago, before I worked here, I came to Washington on assignment, and stayed at the ritzy Mayflower. On the door to my room was a plaque proclaiming Ethel Merman had slept there. THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW. ... Pipe down, Ethel, you’re waking up the whole floor. I was impressed. I’d have coughed up another five bucks for La Merm. A lot of people might go for an extra deuce to sit on top of a revered dead person. (It suggests a new stadium bus tour: Graves of the Stars.) A seat on the 40-yard line might go for $50 with Babe Ruth buried underneath. On the other hand, the same seat might only fetch $23.95 if the bones you offered were Forrest Tucker’s. (Of course we go higher for Paul Lynde, because it’s a center seat.) What would you pay for Jim Nabors? For D.B. Cooper? Rory Calhoun? Zsa Zsa Gabor? Jerry Lewis? (I know they’re not all dead yet; it’s hypothetical.) Let’s say you could get two over Orson Welles? Or a skybox right over The Osmonds?

The marketing details would have to be worked out, but you can see how the shrine aspect could boost an owner’s profit. I suspect they’ll try to determine how viable the dead celebrity concept is by taking some body on tour. And who better than Elvis? (who’s either dead or bored.) You book him before NBA games: Madison Square Garden, Boston Garden, The Spectrum, Capital Centre -- the places he played while he was alive. (People lined up in the rain to see King Tut, a 14-year-old whose voice hadn’t even changed. You don’t think they’d wait 10 deep for Elvis?) You bring the coffin to the jump ball circle, play the opening of “One Night With You,” you kill the lights, set off a smoke bomb and tell the people just what you told them last time, “Elvis has left the arena.”