One for the sports fans and long-time Atlantans.
I found this in an old box last weekend and it brought back such vivid memories. We went to Braves games all the time when I was a kid. The team sucked so tickets were cheap and good seats were always available. I saw Hank Aaron go deep, Chief Noc-A-Homa dance (we called him Pop-A-Bona), and Gene Garber end Pete Rose's 44-game hitting streak. I also saw two guys get in a fistfight in the men's room and one them end up in the nasty trough urinal.
Most of these players didn't have long careers, but I remember their names like it was yesterday. We'd wait outside the clubhouse exit after the game to get autographs. Some would stop and sign, others would walk right by like you weren't there, which was odd because there weren't more than 4-5 of us waiting.
One time I went to a game my Little League team and we sat directly above the visiting team's bullpen, which was on the field back then -- they all were. A pitcher was warming up and we all started yelling at him to throw us a baseball.
"Give us a ball! We want a ball!" we yelled, and kept yelling because he was ignoring us. This probably went on for 2-3 annoying minutes until finally, he stopped throwing and looked up at us.
"Give us a ball!" someone shouted. The pitcher smiled and grabbed his crotch. We howled, and he resumed his warmup.
Not the kind of ball we wanted, but whatever.
On a side note, I often wished my name were Biff Pocoroba. What a name.