Dear Bruce Springsteen, We Need to Talk

Hi Bruce,

I’m a big fan. I love your music, but I’ve never seen you play live. That may be about to change, but I’m worried that I may end up divorced as a result. No offence, but if that happens, it’ll be your fault. You’ve already ended two of my relationships. I’m writing to stop you from making it three.

You caused Susie and me to break up in 1981. We had tickets for one of your gigs in March of that year, but then you pushed it back until June. I couldn’t go in June. College had finished for the summer, and I’d got a job in a factory packing vegetables. Twelve-hour shifts, six days a week.

The sort of job you’d write a song about, Bruce.

Overtime

Susie wasn’t happy when I said I couldn’t go. I told her I didn’t want to lose the overtime. She said if she could take time off from her job at the local cinema, why couldn’t I? She called me a cheapskate. I got mad. It hurts to be called a cheapskate. Especially when it’s true.

I said, don’t compare waving a torch and showing people to their seats with the kind of hard graft me and the carrot crew boys do in the factory.

She said, up your hole with a big jam roll, I’m going anyway. I said fine, you go then. Take your wee tray and sell some choc-ices while you’re at it.

So, Susie went to your gig with Doug, a mutual acquaintance who’d always had an eye for her. A brief, rebound romance just to make me jealous. The games women play.

They got married two years later. I wasn’t invited.

Slane Castle

I blamed you for that break-up, Bruce, but I got over it. Then you did it again in 1985. You were playing Slane Castle in Ireland, and Carol and I were determined to be there.

Carol had a big job with an accountancy firm. She wanted us to get the most expensive tickets available. I had a small job working for a charity. I wanted cheaper tickets.

You only live once, Carol told me. Go large or go home, she said. Don’t be a cheapskate, is how she put it. That word again. I saw red. Me or the expensive tickets, I yelled. You choose, I said. If me and Bruce aren’t enough for you, we’re done here.

She chose. Me and you weren’t enough for her, Bruce. We were done there.

That convinced me you were a relationship jinx, Bruce. So, while I still liked your music, I passed up several opportunities after that to see you play live.

Ireland Gigs

Late last year, news broke that you’re playing four gigs in Ireland in 2024. One will be in a venue just two miles from my house. If the wind’s blowing in the right direction, I’ll hear you singing from my front door.

I didn’t buy a ticket.

Mainly because the venue near us is a big field with no seats. When the gates open, it’ll be a mad dash for the best spots. My wife and I aren’t the mad dashers we used to be. We’d end up right at the back unable to see or hear anything.

May as well just go to the front door and hope for a decent breeze. We can sit on our bench and be close to the toilet.

The other reason is, I’m worried you’re still a relationship jinx.

Christmas

Then Christmas arrived. Our son bought us tickets for your gig! Not the big field one. He got us seats for your Dublin date. That’s about two hours down the road from us.

We’re taking the bus there and back. My wife wanted to book a hotel, but I told her to wise up. When Springsteen’s in town, prices of Dublin hotel rooms go through the roof. Cheaper to hire a helicopter and fly back to Belfast.

Then she suggested taking the car. Get real, I said. The congestion! And don’t start me on the parking. When Springsteen’s in town, you could rent a room and fly back to Belfast for the price of a parking space.

She told me I was a cheapskate.

I didn’t get mad. She’s been telling me that for thirty years. I don’t even hear it now.

Tight Schedule

Your Dublin gig finishes at about 10.30 pm. From experience, I know it will take us forty minutes to get out of the stadium and back into town. Our bus leaves at 11.20 pm.

Yep, we’re cutting it fine.

And because it was my call, I’ll get the blame if we arrive at the stop and the last bus home is disappearing round the corner.

If that happens, she’ll kick me out. No question.

You probably did me a favour with those other girls, Bruce, but I’m not sure I’d get a replacement partner if you broke this relationship. There isn’t a huge demand for 63-year-old cheapskates where I live.

So don’t cause us to miss our bus. Get on stage promptly, do your thing, get off fast. Keep all the ‘I love you Dublin, you’ve been great’ shite to a minimum.

And finish with ‘Born to Run’.

That’ll be our cue to start walking very quickly.