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A fistful of pennies rattling into a change machine essentially determined whether Jihad Ward would have to steal his dinner.

If Ward had to pay the full $2.50 MTA bus fare when he set out before 5 a.m. on his hour-long trip to junior college football practice, his pockets might be too light at the end of the day. When Ward rode for free from the Staten Island townhouse where he lived with nine teammates by flashing an expired high-school student identification card — or for pennies when the driver turned a blind eye to the short-changing — he breathed a momentary sigh of relief.

In the worst of times, Ward paid for some cheaper items, returned to the store with his bagged groceries in hand and slipped in extras.

“I used to double-bag to steal hot dogs or burgers, anything to fill me up,” Ward told The Post. “Where I’m from, if you don’t have any food and you’re a man, you have to do what you have to do.”

You know “Planes, Trains & Automobiles.” Buses, ferries and subways — the means of transportation that defined Ward’s time as an an 18- and 19-year-old at the now-defunct Globe Institute of Technology junior college in 2012 and 2013 — could be the title for a sequel about determination and survival, a story made more poignant by Ward’s return to New York as a potential starter at defensive end for the Giants. 

“It was a hard two years, but it wasn’t the worst two years,” said Ward, who grew up without a father figure in a crime-riddled neighborhood of Philadelphia. “It was like being a grown man. I was chasing my dream. I was blinded by the struggle because I saw other guys doing it, and I’m not going to sit there and make my life worse by bitching about it.”

On a typical weekday, Ward woke up at 4 a.m., bused to the ferry terminal, floated for free across the Upper Bay, squeezed his 295-pound body through or hopped over the turnstile to enter the subway, and walked to get his equipment at a storage facility. He carried a helmet and shoulder pads to practice at Pier 40, went full throttle for 2 ½ hours, returned his gear, and lifted weights and showered at a Bally Sports Club courtesy of his team-issued membership.

By then, mid-afternoon classes were about to start, and they would last until 9 p.m. — before he had to think about reversing the odyssey to get home to one of the two matching Staten Island townhouses earmarked for the program and into bed by midnight.

“If I recruited 100 kids, a quarter would quit in the first week and about 10 would stay through the year and possibly come back,” former Globe head coach Cameron Chadwick said. “That’s because of talent, or because ‘I’m hungry and my mom didn’t send me money.’ Jihad would uplift kids and say, ‘Let’s stick together and go do this.’ He was a natural leader, so people always followed him.”

Before it closed in 2016, Globe’s building was located at the cross-section of 38th Street and Seventh Avenue in the Garment District, on the second floor of a merchant building that wraps around Citizens Bank’s corner lot. Pairs of boots and nude mannequins can be seen from the street in the windows of the old classrooms. The ground-floor entrance is tucked between a Dunkin’ and a fashion trimming supplier, underneath the cement-carved words “Garment Center Capitol.”

A jogger could have passed by 100 times and never noticed Globe, just as former Illinois assistant coach Bill Cubit thought he was lost when he was told to jam his car into any nearby street parking spot on a recruiting visit to see Ward. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed for NCAA action.

“One day I went out to watch Jihad practice and there was a trapeze school out on the Pier,” Cubit said. “I took a picture and sent it to my wife and said, ‘This is what I have to do to find great players.’ When Coach Chadwick took his breaks, I turned around and watched the trapeze.”

Much like those acrobats, Ward contorted his way to making the seemingly impossible happen. Now entering his seventh season as an NFL defensive end, the 28-year-old former second-round draft pick signed a $1 million contract in free agency to bring “constant energy” to the practice field and take on the important job of mentoring rookie first-round Giants draft pick Kayvon Thibodeaux.

“Jihad is the Broad Street Bully for us,” Giants outside linebackers coach Drew Wilkins said. “He’s going to beat up whoever is on that edge.”

Ward left high school with a 1.6 grade-point average and a goal to get out of Philadelphia. But because of his low grades, the result of skipping so many classes, he was academically ineligible under NCAA rules.

In the first year after he was elevated from defensive coordinator to head coach, Chadwick expanded Globe’s recruiting to Philadelphia in hopes of competing against more established junior-college programs. He spotted Ward’s “raw talent” at an all-star game in the city.

“No one had ever heard of Globe,” Chadwick said.

Chadwick took the junior college route to Rutgers’ football program in the late 1990s, and he understood there was no sense in lying to recruits and their families about what was in store. His pitch boiled down to honesty, not crafting excuses later.

“”The school isn’t really able to give you any resources,” Chadwick remembers telling recruits. “You have to take care of yourself, and I know it’s a struggle because I did it.” Ward had a partial scholarship to cover the cost of tuition — about $11,000, according to Sports Illustrated.

“With Jihad, I told him I’d do everything possible to get him to the next level once he got to Globe,” Chadwick said. “He believed in me and we got it done, but it wasn’t easy.”

Ward just saw a royal blue-black-and-silver jersey plus second chances to take his coursework seriously — “that bit me in the ass and was a reality check,” he said — and put together a good football recruiting film. If he landed a FBS football scholarship, the rest would be worth the trouble.

“I could’ve been in the worst situation in Philadelphia,” Ward said, “so I did what my heart told me.”

Globe played games on Saturdays at either Shabazz or Union City high schools in New Jersey, in front of a typical JUCO “friends and family” crowd of about 100. Meals were always top of the mind, especially on game day.

“Costco was a good friend of mine,” Chadwick said. “Every day I had to feed somebody.  If we traveled, I made sure we went to buffets and other places they could eat up. As a JUCO coach, you have to know that it’s more than football. I was a social worker, basically. If you really care about the kids, you’re going to feed them before you feed yourself.”

Looking back now, it’s ironic how the first conversation began between Cubit and Ward.

Cubit’s rule for not wasting time in the unruly world of JUCO recruiting was to look for a connection that might help strike up a conversation. Because he grew up decades earlier in the Philadelphia suburbs, Cubit messaged Ward with three questions: Cheese whiz or American cheese on a cheesesteak? Mustard or cheese on a pretzel? Did you know the old Connie Mack Stadium was a few blocks away from your address?

Ward answered 3-for-3 — American, mustard and a church had replaced the old home of the Phillies — to pass Cubit’s test as “true Philly” and earn a recruiting visit to Illinois. Because he suspected this kid’s trust wasn’t easy to gain, Cubit, the offensive coordinator, pleaded with the head coach for an exception to Illinois’ method of position-based recruiting to remain as Ward’s lead contact.

“He stuck out like a sore thumb on the tape,” said Cubit, who quickly checked for Ward’s measurables with recruiting services. “But he’s supposed to be 6-foot-6 or 6-foot-7 and he could walk in the door at 6-foot-2. We were having a pregame meal and I was scared to death. When he walked in, I turned to a guy next to me and say, Thank God!’”

If only that was the end of the obstacles.

“He is one of those kids who when people say he can’t do it, he says, ‘Just watch,’” Cubit said.

Ward stuck out his arms like airplane wings in celebration as a teammate ran back an interception during a Giants practice in May.

These days, he can afford to fly. Or to take a taxi into Times Square and reminisce, as he has done on visits back to New York as a member of the Raiders, Ravens and Jaguars. Or to eat the $16 omelet, $18 burger and $26 pizza from restaurants that line the street of Globe’s old address and used to be more elusive than slippery quarterbacks, even during his second year at Globe when he got a job as a cashier at Modell’s to afford trips to Waldbaum’s.

“I had nothing but my food in the refrigerator to save and my high school ID in my wallet,” Ward said. “No credit cards, no debit cards. Now, if I go out, I don’t care about the price.”

Defensive coordinator Don Martindale and Wilkins, the outside linebackers coach, suggested the unheralded Ward would be worth the price to the Giants. They coached him with the Ravens and knew there was more to gain than a “game-wrecker” who alters opponents’ rushing plans and adds versatility to the interior pass rush, as Wilkins put it.

“From my experience … when you’re a player that comes in as a free agent from another team, it’s a little bit harder to lead right away because you’re swimming with a new playbook and new surroundings,” Giants head coach Brian Daboll said. “You kind of take a step back and just kind of feel things out. He kind of jumped right into the deep end. I love the way he practices.”

The only time that Ward remembers missing practice at Globe was when he got caught hopping over or squeezing through the subway turnstile.

“I was too big for that,” Ward said. “They’d give me a ticket, and then be like, ‘Oh, he’s a college student.’”

Founded in 1985 and accredited by the New York State Board of Regents in 1996, Globe’s credits weren’t accepted by many four-year universities in major conferences. Ward didn’t want to hear schools suggest that he start over as a freshman in the classroom and a junior on the football field, even when they offered a spot in the coveted SEC.

“There was a time where he said, ‘Coach, I’m thinking about transferring because I’m having problems with my credits,” said Chadwick, who eventually coached Globe football to a spot in the junior college national rankings and a bowl game before the doors were shuttered. “I said, ‘I’ll make a call for you if you’re not comfortable here to make sure you get somewhere you’re OK.’

“I sat in the dean’s office. I sat in the president’s office. I said, ‘This kid has a future, and we have to do whatever we need to as a school to get him where he needs to be.’”

Cubit’s visit to Globe included an impromptu drive down to Philadelphia to bond with Ward’s grandmother over Phillies great Dick Allen and to convince Ward’s mother that all the interest her son was drawing was a blessing. It was an investment in Ward that few adults had made to that point, and it was never forgotten.

Ward leaned on Cubit for advice when it was recommended to him that he undergo minor in-season surgery while at Illinois … and when he picked an NFL agent … and when he was told that he didn’t need to risk aggravating an injury in the Senior Bowl after boosting his draft stock during a week of practices (but he desperately wanted to make sure he could keep his game jersey) … and when he trained for the draft close to campus so that he could finish earning the degree in sports management that he had promised to his mother.

“There aren’t many people getting out of where he lived, but he never complained to me,” Cubit said. “He never asked me for a favor except for guidance. He saved every nickel and dime off the Pell Grant he received. He wasn’t spending it on sneakers and all the other stuff some kids do.

“One of the most grateful kids I’ve ever known. He’d always call me pops and he told me, ‘You’re like a dad to me. I never had one.’”

It all sounds “crazy,” Ward knows. But he “had fun with it, too,” especially “playing ball all day.”

“Somebody from Globe College is going to play for the New York Giants, man,” Chadwick said in disbelief, remembering the “1,000 text messages” he got on Ward’s draft day.

Ward still talks with Chadwick and some of his former Globe teammates — and they know about him what Thibodeaux and other Giants will soon find out.

“If I give you my all, I expect the same thing back,” Ward said. “It’s like a relationship. Don’t go 50/50. Go over 100. All the stuff on this field, this isn’t acting. This shit is real life. I don’t play with my life. If I’m on the field with you, you best believe I’m with you. I make sure everybody is good. I’ve been through a lot of negativity, so I just aim for the positive.”

What could be more positive than coming full circle to return to New York as a pro football player? Maybe one more walk through the heart of Manhattan?

“I can do it whenever I want,” Ward said, “but it’s cool because next time I go down there it’s [to celebrate] because I’m trying to win a Super Bowl. That’s the goal.”