The Bad-Good Ole Days

[Ari Silverstein]

We sat, on the Alpha's terrace, overlooking the rusted barbed fence, higher than the Lower Hudson field. Slurping our Mint Juleps, the smell of Bud Beer wafting through the spring air. It was Winter quarter, '70. :crazy:

Below our heroes took the field, nameless, faceless players, dodging the rocks and slipping on the sand, on our sandlot. The turf was brown as the dirt; we cared less. We were smashed and the yield from the greenhouse on the roof of the Tau's was sweet smelling, seedless and inexpensive. Cheech and Chong blared out of the old JBLs. We were higher than the Upper Hudson field. :whistling:

"Strike One" swore loudly the sporting official...from behind the mound. What a task he had, all bases, plates, safes and outs were his. We knew first class entertainment when we could barely see it! opcorn:

The roundballers exchanged turns, often laying their gloves in the field for the use of their adversaries. Someone yelled "Forever Jefferson Davis" from the K. Sigma house and followed that with a roll down into right field, a Confederate flag swathed around his naked bodice. :blink:

I looked up, from my pile of vomit, cross-eyed and attentive as a hippie at midnight. :mf_surrender:

Baseball season was here. The joy had begun.

epper:

 

[orangeblooded2]

It kinda works......better if you hum it to a tune like bye bye miss American Pie by Don McClain.

 

[SmokeyHound]

ok then

 

[jwells]

?

 

[volger]

I feel ya dude, and the JBL's. Was Bose 201's in my day though.

 

[Ari Silverstein]

I feel ya dude, and the JBL's. Was Bose 201's in my day though.

I believe, sir, you may be correct.

It was one of each as I better recall. :devilsmoke:

 

[Slydell]

Sweet days of youth, gone so fast. Life, so they say, is but a game and we let it slip away.

JBL's were the speaker of choice, baseball in the dirt, watching the Vols play football from the hill outside the stadium..and South Knoxville bootleggers to give the warm glow.

 

[Ari Silverstein]

Sweet days of youth, gone so fast. Life, so they say, is but a game and we let it slip away.

JBL's were the speaker of choice, baseball in the dirt, watching the Vols play football from the hill outside the stadium..and South Knoxville bootleggers to give the warm glow.

Rides on the rails, boarded as they slowed behind the Lower Hudson.

Walks to Andy's Deli, slices steamed to perfection.

Gay Street shows, Vietnam woes, gatherings in Circle Park.

Gentleman Andrew Holt.

Memories of times gone by fresh as the smells in my mind.

:good!:

 

[vol_in_ar]

We sat, on the Alpha's terrace, overlooking the rusted barbed fence, higher than the Lower Hudson field. Slurping our Mint Juleps, the smell of Bud Beer wafting through the spring air. It was Winter quarter, '70. :crazy:

Below our heroes took the field, nameless, faceless players, dodging the rocks and slipping on the sand, on our sandlot. The turf was brown as the dirt; we cared less. We were smashed and the yield from the greenhouse on the roof of the Tau's was sweet smelling, seedless and inexpensive. Cheech and Chong blared out of the old JBLs. We were higher than the Upper Hudson field. :whistling:

"Strike One" swore loudly the sporting official...from behind the mound. What a task he had, all bases, plates, safes and outs were his. We knew first class entertainment when we could barely see it! opcorn:

The roundballers exchanged turns, often laying their gloves in the field for the use of their adversaries. Someone yelled "Forever Jefferson Davis" from the K. Sigma house and followed that with a roll down into right field, a Confederate flag swathed around his naked bodice. :blink:

I looked up, from my pile of vomit, cross-eyed and attentive as a hippie at midnight. :mf_surrender:

Baseball season was here. The joy had begun.

epper:

:lolabove: