BETWEEN THE LINES -- Byron de Arakal

Most folks aspire to be relevant. I’m not one of them. That’s because

when you have sway, when you’re a blot on the radar screen outside of

your immediate sphere of influence, perfect strangers begin calling at

all hours asking for things. Some advice maybe. Often a favor. In the

worst cases, money. Which proves that I am relevant in the lives of my

kids, and that’s OK.

But other than that, I’m content to roam the far reaches of

irrelevance, which is to my liking.

There are benefits to be had in this corner of the galaxy, out here

where the pull of your orbit influences virtually nothing. Don’t think

so? Then keep your eye on Tevita Ofahengaue. Mr. Irrelevant. The last guy

picked in the 2001 National Football League draft. He’s proof that

irrelevance has its rewards.

There he is, T-Bone as they are want to call him, the top bill of Paul

Salata’s 26th annual Irrelevant Week, the brilliantly humorous aside that

fetes the most inconsequential rookie in the NFL. Just have a look at

what irrelevance bestows upon him:

He’s fitted with a collar of sweetly fragrant leis draped about the

considerable girth of his neck. He enjoys the escort of an exceptionally

beautiful young lassie, clad in a bikini that is most certainly relevant

when all things are considered. Ofahengaue leads a processional --

beneath an awning of tropical palm leaves held aloft by a phalanx of

cheerleaders -- to his elevated throne where he is shaded from a

blistering sun. There, Mr. Irrelevant is lavished with a cascade of

gifts. And this is just the first day.

The following evening, Ofahengaue -- a walk-on at Brigham Young

University, where he earned second-team All-Mountain West Conference

status as a senior (nearly irrelevant) -- dined on fine cuisine as the

guest of honor at the All-Star Sports Banquet held in the ballroom of the

Newport Beach Marriott.

Today, he’s cavorting about Disney’s California Adventure with his

wife and four children. And, because he’s irrelevant, it’s not costing

him a dime. Thursday, he’ll lunch with the brass at First American Title

before grabbing the spotlight at an evening regatta at the Balboa Yacht

Club.

Lastly, on Friday, T-Bone will wallow in his irrelevance during an

afternoon at Palace Park in Irvine and then cruise the bay for a Taste of

Newport in the evening.

And you know what the beauty of all of this is? Once it’s over,

Ofahengaue retains his irrelevance, slips the radar screen and moves into

the shadows of obscurity where no one can find him. It’s a marvelous

thing to behold.

Now the thing about irrelevance is we have no appreciation for it when

we’re youngsters. Kids desperately want to be relevant. In grade school,

when choosing sides for kickball, being the last chosen pulverized the

self-esteem. We didn’t know then that someday big strapping football

players would beg to be chosen last, would pray for irrelevance. And we

could scarcely fathom that achieving irrelevance -- one day -- would be

rewarded with fine dining, winsome young ladies and leisurely bay

cruises.

Adults know better. Having stood in the klieg light of relevance with

its impossible expectations, headaches and strangers peering in your

bedroom window, irrelevance suddenly becomes a desirable end. A beautiful

thing. A sure fire way to keep the dingoes from nipping at your backside.

Take Dennis Rodman, for instance. The man might otherwise enjoy the

tranquillity of irrelevance if only he’d tone down the volume of his

beachfront keggers. But instead, he is relevant and quite possibly

miserable because of it.

Costa Mesa Councilman Chris Steel is relevant these days too. More so

than he’d like to be. He’s got prosecutors and race baiters chasing him

all over town for his very relevant views on illegal immigration and

other problematic issues.

I was thinking the other night that poor Allan Roeder, Costa Mesa city

manager, is probably more relevant than he’d like to be.

As the front man for the city and the City Council, Roeder continually

has the strangest assortment of people showing up on his doorstep wanting

to barf all over him. That includes a slightly squirrelly columnist

leaving voicemail messages for him when AT&T; Broadband drops its signal

in the middle of a Lakers-Sixers game.

And I’m fairly certain that Costa Mesa Councilman Gary Monahan is

longing for irrelevance these days.

So there you have it: A compelling dispatch from the outer limits of

irrelevance. You are welcome to comment if you must, just don’t make them

with me. There’s nothing I can do about it. Send them to my editor, S.J.

Cahn, at the Daily Pilot. He’s the relevant one.

* BYRON DE ARAKAL is a writer and communications consultant. He lives

in Costa Mesa. His column runs Wednesdays. Readers may reach him with

news tips and comments via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .