Fan Born to Run Now Slowed to a Walk

I know what I should be feeling, but where is it? Where’s the buzz, the ol’ zing, the razzmatazz, the giddy anticipation?

Is it possible to spend so much time thinking about an El Toro airport that one loses sight of what’s important?

Could be. How else to explain the lack of passion for an event of such historic magnitude that it dwarfs all else? Didn’t I get excited when Bill Clinton campaigned outside the Old Santa Ana Courthouse in 1996? Didn’t I rush out to see Mo Vaughn when he made his Angel debut in 1999?

And now this. History in the making.

And, yet, I feel . . . nothing.

The “event” is the first appearance of Bruce Springsteen in Orange County. Yes, the Boss has been to counties all over the country, but never to its sixth-largest. Never to this one.

That changes Sunday and Monday, when Springsteen and his E Street Band will play the Pond in Anaheim. When a friend in the office said this week he was going to make a last-minute play for some tickets, I stood there dumbly, not even beseeching him to get one for me.

Is this the sign that it’s time to start taking seriously those solicitations from Forest Lawn? That maybe it’s time to return those unanswered membership forms from AARP?

There was a time. . . . And what a time it was.

It was the fall of 1984, and a friend of mine in Denver stood in line for who knows how long to secure eight tickets for our group of friends. It was Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” tour and would mark the first time I’d seen him perform live.

When the show ended, around midnight, and with 15,000 people singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” I had a new all-time favorite concert.

I’ve seen Springsteen twice since, the last time in September at one of his Staples Center concerts in Los Angeles. I was plenty excited that night, in spite of a less-than-sterling sound system in the arena.

But now, with the Boss in my own backyard, I’m coming up flat.

It Depends on Your Definition of ‘Fun’

To recapture the feeling, I leave a phone message for Jon Alexander, an Orange County attorney who becomes “Trapper” when he phones in his occasional “takes” on Jim Rome’s sports radio show. In the pantheon of Rome’s regular callers, Trapper is something of an icon.

Alexander also is a huge Springsteen fan. He saw all four L.A. shows last September, then flew to Albany, N.Y., for the final stop on the tour. That brought his total of live Springsteen performances to 27, he tells me, “from Jersey to California.”

I tell Alexander of my inexplicable malaise. He has no such problem, so I ask him to put me in the mood by giving me his Springsteen history.

Perhaps I should mention that Alexander also scored me a Springsteen ticket to the Staples concert.

“I was born in Jersey, and like everybody else born in Jersey, we were born tramps and born to run,” Alexander says, adding that he knows every inch of the turf where Springsteen grew up and became a local Jersey legend.

“I saw him in a field outside Freehold [N.J.] when he was with Steel Mill, his first band,” Alexander says. “Maybe a year or two later, we were surfing at Seaside and I remember we had our wetsuits on because it was winter and we were walking up to the Stone Pony and putting our boards against the outside wall, and they let us in to see Bruce play. So we were sitting in there with our wetsuits on, listening to him.”

That was some 35 years ago, and Alexander, now 51, never lost his passion for Springsteen. Forget that Springsteen has emerged from his working-class roots to become filthy rich; forget that his fans now drive Lexuses and play the stock market; forget that Springsteen is now 50.

“To me,” Alexander says, “he exemplifies the best of rock ‘n’ roll and all that that signifies--its traditional roots in blues, gospel, whatever you consider to be kick-ass and visceral.”

And everything still feels the same to you about Springsteen? I ask.

Yep, Alexander says.

“Nobody gives you more bang for your buck,” he says. “Three-hour, 15-minute shows, no intermission.”

Alexander offers his condolences. “You sound morose,” he says.

Maybe it’s a twisted version of a midlife crisis.

Or, maybe I just need to hear 15,000 people at the Pond in May singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com