Post by $heriff Tom on Apr 19, 2007 7:53:33 GMT -5
So much time spent there. So many tales. Check it out, at one point I was doing around 60 games a year. About 90% of them were preceded by some sort of stint in the park, usually averaging about 2 hours. Sometimes as many as 4. Anyhoo, calculating 2 hours time 60 games, we are looking at 120 hours a season spent drinking by the sandbox, or FIVE FULL DAYS OF THE YEAR. Holy crap!
I will start with one of those images that for some reason keeps bouncing around in my head. The pogo stick guy. One evening I was sitting out there by myself, in a drizzling rain, drinking beer, waiting for anyone. I see movement out on the street, and some guy is pogo-ing down the block adjacent to the park, bouncing real high and looking really odd. The kicker was when he got to the light, and was unable to continue on due to the red. So he continues to bounce in place, spinning in circles, and making a show of it. Someone driving by called him an A-hole out an open window, I remember that.
One of my favorite park lines was when our old standby the black squirrel made his initial appearance. "A black squirrel? There goes the property values." someone muttered. That squirrel was dope. When we ran out of food to give him, he would petulantly climb the tree on the other side of the fence and drop crap on our heads from his perch.
I will start with one of those images that for some reason keeps bouncing around in my head. The pogo stick guy. One evening I was sitting out there by myself, in a drizzling rain, drinking beer, waiting for anyone. I see movement out on the street, and some guy is pogo-ing down the block adjacent to the park, bouncing real high and looking really odd. The kicker was when he got to the light, and was unable to continue on due to the red. So he continues to bounce in place, spinning in circles, and making a show of it. Someone driving by called him an A-hole out an open window, I remember that.
One of my favorite park lines was when our old standby the black squirrel made his initial appearance. "A black squirrel? There goes the property values." someone muttered. That squirrel was dope. When we ran out of food to give him, he would petulantly climb the tree on the other side of the fence and drop crap on our heads from his perch.
