T1B

Yep, rack Van. Good stuff.

A Pacific front rolled into the North Bay today...












the truth

Yeah - but how's the weather where you are?

Rack Vansdale.

Garvey didn't say a word all night.

That might be because his foot has a propensity to get lodged deeply into his mouth.

A few years back a buddy of mine attended some fundraiser dinner. He's on the balcony enjoying a cigar and a drink when Garvey walks up to him and smugly says, "You really shouldn't smoke."

Dryly my friend retorts, "Well, you shouldn't have unprotected sex."

I drove next to one of these for about 5 miles on the 91 going east on Friday. I made a really cool sound when he gave it some gas.

Mikey wrote:I made a really cool sound when he gave it some gas.

What'd you do, go "Vroooom!!!" or "Bwooooooar!!!"?

LOL...Freudian slip.

Actually, I went..."Honey can I have one of those?"

(the OL was with me)

Mikey wrote:I drove next to one of these for about 5 miles on the 91 going east on Friday. I made a really cool sound when he gave it some gas.

How cool could those sounds be at an average of 20 mph?

And was Mt. Tam to the north or the west?
:D

It was at about noon, between storms, during the daily 20 minute window when traffic actually moves on that road.

Oh yeah, I have a FastPass. I get to blow by all the peons anyway.

(Couldn't see Mt. Tam. The clouds were in the way.)

Van wrote:I once played played a couple games of pool with Judd Hirsch from Taxi fame.

Did you play play them both at the same time or did you play play them one after the other?

I played them one right after the other other.

WARNING: Pool is a game of degrees. Be sure to bring your compass.

Rack Van. My Zysdale stories will pale in comparison to his, but here goes . . .

I played high school football against Pat Kelly. You probably don't remember the name. Pat went to Syracuse on a football scholarship, then went on to become the starting tight end for the Denver Broncos. He suffered a serious knee injury in the '89 AFC championship game against the Browns, and for all intensive purposes (Shoalzie reset intentional), his career was over after that.

The Zysdale connection here goes one better, though. After his football career officially ended, he moved to NYC and worked as a stockbroker. Sadly, he contracted leukemia and died young, I believe he was only 37 or 38 at the time of his death. His funeral was held in Rochester, and among the mourners at his funeral was none other than Monica Lewinsky.

Marv Albert once mentioned the name of my high school on television. The occasion was a televised college basketball game between Notre Dame and St. Bonaventure. One of the starters for Bonaventure had graduated from my high school.

My high school football coach, who was an idiot 99.9% of the time, managed to get Dick MacPherson to speak at our high school's sports award banquet the year I got my varsity letter. MacPherson had just been hired as the football coach at Syracuse. At the time, the Syracuse program was in the dumps (I kid you not, a local fishhack felt compelled to defend himself preemptively against charges of homering when he projected Syracuse WR Art Monk as a first-round draft choice in a mock draft he worked up), and I, not being terribly cognizant at the time of the difference between a lousy DI program and a program at a lower level, wasn't terribly impressed. I'm more impressed in hindsight.

I played youth football one year, and at the end of the year banquet, the guest speaker was John Skorupan, a reserve LB for the Bills. I asked him a question that wasn't quite at the level of Van's question, something about if he was disappointed in how lousy his team was doing that year. A lot of the adults at the banquet thought the question was quite humorous.

While at ND, I met both Gerry Faust and Digger Phelps, as well as a number of football and basketball players who went on to play at the professional level. Some of the names you might remember: Allen Pinkett, Mike Gann, Eric Dorsey, Blair Kiel, Steve Beuerlein, Mike Golic, Mark Bavaro, John Paxson, Tim Kempton, David Rivers. I even became friends with a few of them.

I had classes with a few football and basketball players over the years. I did a project for my Criminal Justice course with Joseph Price, a basketball player. Believe it or not, I even had one football player -- Greg Dingens -- in a physics class I took. At graduation, I sat between two basketball players, Ken Barlow and Joseph Price.

Our basketball team beat UCLA at Pauley in '85, our first win at Pauley since '74. I went out to meet the team bus when it returned to campus from the airport. The bus stopped with its door literally close enough to me that I could've reached out and touched it. The first guy off the bus was Gary Voce, one of the more exuberant players on the team. He grabbed me and gave me a big ol' bearhug.

I once saw Jim Boeheim at the Newark International Airport. He was with a woman much younger than he was (this was in '88, so I don't think it was the same woman he married). I think he knew he'd been spotted, since he skedaddled out of there in a hurry.

Lessee, what else . . .

When my father died, my second-grade teacher came to the calling hours. I thought that was a little peculiar, in that I was about 30 years removed from second grade, and I hadn't kept in contact with her. Nevertheless, when her son died less than a year later, I felt compelled to return the favor. Only problem was, I couldn't get into the funeral home. Her son had played minor league baseball for the Yankees, and the entire organization had come for his funeral.

I once saw Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford in a supermarket, back when they were still married to each other. Richard was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of sweat pants, and his hair was extremely disheveled. He looked like he had just woken up -- either that, or he just had a particularly rough go with the gerbil. Cindy wasn't dressed up, but otherwise, she looked like, well, Cindy.

I definitely don't have the music bona fides Van has, but I did once have an extended conversation with Alan Gratzer.

I once saw George Hamilton on the campus of Pepperdine. I had just parked my car in the student parking lot and was headed over to the law school library to study. George was in a red sports car (don't remember the year, make or model -- sorry Van), and we reached a four-way stop at the same time, me on foot, he in his car. He leaned out the window and asked me how to get to the tennis courts, and I gave him directions.

While in law school, I rented from an elderly lady who lived next door to Craig T. Nelson. I never met him, although he did have a Hollywood party one night.

And I think I've mentioned this one before, but . . .

Somewhere in the world, there is a Polaroid of me with Christy Canyon. I either threw it out, to get rid of the incriminating evidence, or lost it in the course of moving. This was before access to the interwebs became widespread, and if I had known then what I know now, I would've made sure to hang onto it as the least of all possible evils, or better yet, passed on the Polaroid altogether. Given the amount of time that's elapsed, and the fact that it was a Polaroid, if I'm lucky it's unrecognizable today.

Coupla things stuck out about her (pun not intended). First, she's much smaller in real life than I would've thought. I think I've seen somewhere on the interwebs (I think Wikipedia, which admittedly isn't the most reliable site, although I could be wrong about where I saw it), her listed as 5'6". Let's just say that if she's 5'6", I'm about 6'7". She was a good head shorter than me, and IIRC, was also wearing heels.

Second thing was, I've read that she's a real bitch, but she was very nice to me. (Yes, I do realize she was trying to get money out of me.)

So I think that's all for my Zysdale stories. All true (I don't have the imagination to make this stuff up.)

Somewhere in the world, there is a Polaroid of me with Christy Canyon. I either threw it out, to get rid of the incriminating evidence, or lost it in the course of moving. This was before access to the interwebs became widespread, and if I had known then what I know now, I would've made sure to hang onto it as the least of all possible evils, or better yet, passed on the Polaroid altogether. Given the amount of time that's elapsed, and the fact that it was a Polaroid, if I'm lucky it's unrecognizable today.

Looks like a trool just got outed.

PSUFAN wrote:

Somewhere in the world, there is a Polaroid of me with Christy Canyon. I either threw it out, to get rid of the incriminating evidence, or lost it in the course of moving. This was before access to the interwebs became widespread, and if I had known then what I know now, I would've made sure to hang onto it as the least of all possible evils, or better yet, passed on the Polaroid altogether. Given the amount of time that's elapsed, and the fact that it was a Polaroid, if I'm lucky it's unrecognizable today.

Looks like a trool just got outed.

No trolls here. Did someone else have a similar experience?