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The good, the bad, and the chicken franks...

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  • The good, the bad, and the chicken franks...

    We all carry memories of the games we attended, as well as impressions of the every day evolutions at CBP, or the Vet, or Connie Mack. You know, the little things.

    What's yours?

    I remember the metal benches that surrounded the very top level of the seven hundreds up until the Vet's final years. When the Phillies were ahead, you had an army of kids who'd go up there, sit, and stomp their feet in unison. The sound carried mightily in a ballpark that had fairly lousy acoustics to begin with. Someone told me that this tradition carried back to Connie Mack. Sometime in the late 90s, the metal benches disappeared, although by that time, it mattered not anyway, with the team finishing in the NL East's version of Antartica.

    I remember Mary Sue, the ballgirl on the third base line. I think that was her name. The TV cameras panned her as often as they did Schmidt or Bob Boone. For good reason, of course, especially if you were an adolescent undergoing the uh...well...let's call it the Dawn Of Life.

    The concessions. In the mid 80s, the food at the Vet was so bad that I knew the inmates had to be eating better meals at Graterford Prison. The smell of the Purdue Chicken Franks wafted throughout the Vet for the duration of the game, and it was an experience to be endured, rather than enjoyed. I haven't eaten a chicken frank since that first one, and today, the very smell of one would have me racing for the door. ARA was contracted in 1986, and the grotesque cuisine became a memory... :silent:

  • #2
    I can remember one cool, dampish spring night at the Vet, sitting right in front of one of the ramps for fans to enter. There was a fairly stiff breeze that night, and we were positioned such that the ramp funneled that cold air right at our backs. Most unpleasant.

    Jim Albright
    Seen on a bumper sticker: If only closed minds came with closed mouths.
    Some minds are like concrete--thoroughly mixed up and permanently set.
    A Lincoln: I don't think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.


    • #3
      Yes! But, those nights were a Godsend during the hot, sticky spells! Those entry/exits were windtunnels, and on a very hot night, you tried to stay as close to them as you could. Especially on the side facing the river. We were lucky to have them, really. On a hot, humid night at the old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore, there was no breeze at all, and you sat and sweated and stank, and drank way too much to compensate.

      One of the ushers at the entrance to 619 was this big, beautiful girl who I talked up all night (a dismal, dull loss to the Expos). I tried dating her- this was years before I met my wife- but no dice. Rats!

      Oh, on that subject: it might NOT have been an urban legend. I remember seeing them at night down at the Navy Yard. Big as a Porsche.


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