Posted on 04/25/2002 6:13:53 PM PDT by L.N. Smithee
Edited on 07/12/2004 3:52:59 PM PDT by Jim Robinson. [history]
Like leisure suits and the Ford Pinto, it was an idea to suit its era.
Which is to say, surpassingly ill-conceived. On a warm summer evening in 1974, the attendance-starved Cleveland Indians held their first
(Excerpt) Read more at washtimes.com ...
Oops...he's a Swede (Toronto's Captain)!
:-)
Could be a lead player in "Pyscho".
Whaaaat? Are you one of those guys who thinks that the epitome of good basketball is that "four corners" keep-away carpola when there's less than five minutes in a two-possession game?
I think anything that makes basketball less like soccer is a good thing!
It's like magic. I wish I knew how they do that.
What the story fails to mention is that the Indians' opponent on that "warm summer evening in 1974" was the Texas Rangers.
Who had hosted a Dime Beer Night of their own the previous week.
And that the visiting team had been these self-same Indians.
And that the Texas crowd, of which I was a part, had gotten a mite rowdy themselves.
Dave Duncan, now Tony LaRussa's pitching coach in St. Louis, was the Tribe catcher on that night. It was also the night that Dave Nelson, the Rangers second sacker, stole second...then third...and, finally, home...in succession.
The Indians were getting drilled and, when the inning was over, Duncan took quite a few "rag arm" insults from the crowd behind the visitor's dugout. He gave as good as he got.
One thing led to another, somebody threw a beer in Duncan's face, Duncan went postal and came over the dugout into the stands. A brawl ensued and the game was held up for a about ten minutes, while Duncan (and about a hundred fans) were ejected.
So, let the record reflect that the Cleveland fans were simply retaliating for the jobbing their team had received in Texas the previous week.
And let the record reflect that Texas also drew about 10,000 more fans into old Arlington Stadium (it was packed to the gills) and consumed over 100,000 cups of beer by the seventh inning. When the brawl broke out. And the vendors had just run out of beer...
So, also let the record reflect that Texas fans can not only drink more beer than Cleveland fans, they can handle it better, too.
It's our sense of decorum.
Damn, I miss Dime Beer Night...
Crazy Crab wasn't really a mascot, he was an anti-mascot. He was the mascot the fans loved to hate. Market research by the Giants showed that S.F. fans didn't like mascots such as the superb (IMHO) San Diego Chicken or the Phillie Phanatic. After their success (particularly the hoopla over the firing of Ted Giannoulas, the radio station employee inside the Chicken suit, and his successful suit to claim ownership of the character), guys in stuffy suits with big heads were popping up all over. Mr. Red, Mr. Met, Fredbird, Youppi of the Expos (with the "!" on the back of his uniform) were all pretenders to the throne Giannoulas sat upon, with David Raymond (the Phanatic) a close second.
The worst, in my opinion, was the Pirate Parrot, prominent in the 1979 World Series. The suit was like an afterthought -- it was a lime green bird costume with googly eyes that made the bird look like it was stoned. Perhaps there was a reason for that. In the famous trial that followed the suspension of several players for cocaine use (the Royals' Vida Blue and the Pirates' Dave Parker and Dale Berra -- son of Yogi -- most prominently), it was revealed that the guy inside the suit -- Kevin Koch -- was using coke.
I got nothing against a decent mascot. But the clowns who came up with the Giants' "Lou Seal" ought to dropped in McCovey Cove with concrete shoes.
He said it was the only time in his career he was used for long relief.
You never saw Rootin' Tootin' Ranger, did you?
The ultimate in banal.
ROFLMAO!
Mr. Met just had a 40th-anniversary party for him at Shea Stadium, so he cannot be considered an imitator of the San Diego Chicken.
How the First-Down Line Works [note: mildly annoying pop-up material]
Whenever I went to old Candlestick Park for a Giants game, I would kill post-game time I would normally spend in traffic checking out the players as they went to their cars or the visiting team bus in a fenced-in area. If you were lucky, a player would stop by the fence or stop his car as he left to autograph a program or a card or whatever (this was before collecting cards became a multi-million dollar biz).
Nolan Ryan was with the Astros during that time, and after a Giants-Astros game, a small crowd was waiting for Ryan to emerge from the clubhouse in hopes of getting an signature. Like most of the players, Ryan ignored the shouts to come to the fence, and was headed for the bus when someone in the crowd screamed a name that none of us recognized. Ryan's head spun around quickly, craned his neck to see who had said the name, and he walked to the gate. The crowd cheered.
Turns out the name was that of someone who worked on Ryan's ranch in Texas, and as he was chatting with the guy's friend, Ryan would sign reflexively everything that was handed to him. Unfortunately, I had neither pen nor paper at that moment.
However, that same day brought me one of the creepiest feelings I have ever felt. There were some local teenage girls waiting outside the gate, ranging in age from 14-16, but they were Astros fans. I asked why they were fans of the Astros when they lived in the Bay Area. They said they were the sexiest guys in the league, and that if they couldn't talk to them at the ballpark, they would meet them at the airport.
Ewwwwww.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.