Ice Crawling

  I used to go roller skating every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday when I was in junior high. I was pretty good, if I may say so myself. So, when a group of us went ice-skating for the first time when we were in high school, I knew I would be Peggy Fleming on ice.

   Now, you have to understand that I hate the cold.  I was called “Bluey”  when I was little because as soon as I spent any time outside in the cold, my lips turned blue. It really looked like my mom decided that blue lipstick looked good on a 5-year old. Not that I would put that past her. So, when someone suggested ice-skating, I knew I had to bundle up and risk being called “Bluey” all day. I wore my Ali McGraw hat, and had a long scarf wrapped around my neck.

 I laced up my skates and I was ready!  While most of my friends were  baby-stepping it around the perimeter, learning the basics of  the art of ice-skating,  I shot out toward the middle of the rink. I was a show-off  and today would be no different. I immediately started wobbling.  Whoa!  That blade on the bottom of my feet is making me wobble. Damn blade. Why the hell can’t they have two blades so I don’t wobble?   Uh Oh….Something is not right. Well, hell, this isn’t like roller skating at all. Right when I thought that, I knew I was going to fall. Oh, it wasn’t a quick wipe-out. It was one of those contort-your-body-trying-not-to-fall falls.  I believe someone said I looked “retarded.”  Of course, that is politically incorrect these days, but back then,  I was retarded on a daily basis.

I barely made it back. I basically walked on the sides of my skates. Which is painful. And made me earn the moniker, “Retard”, for the day. But I got back. Shit, this isn’t easy. I watched people glide by and some were even skating backwards. I felt so inadequate.  My friend, Teri, who could skate, offered to take me around.  But, then again, maybe she couldn’t skate, but anyone with a pulse could have skated better than me that day. Even blue-lipped penguins. This was not going to be good for Teri. She had long hair. Like down to her waist. Well, we all had long hair, but Teri’s was also wavy and thick, so it looked like something I could grab if I fell. And I did think of that before we went out on the ice. She also had a scarf, so I thought I would try this screwed up leisure activity once more.

 I held her hand, and I waddle-skated. Hell, I was a blue-lipped penguin.  I didn’t make it very far, when I felt that “Uh Oh….” moment once again. I was struggling. The Contorted Contessa…I was going down. Hey, might as well take Teri with me.  Well, I didn’t want her to get hurt or anything, I just didn’t want to get hurt. So, I grabbed at the first thing as I was going down. It happened to be her scarf.

 Well, I somehow went down in a split. It was a perfect split.  I yanked on Teri’s scarf  as I was splitting. We laid on the ice, laughing hysterically.  Each time we tried to get up, we fell back down. I could not quit laughing.  I don’t know how many times we tried. She finally decided to save herself, but I wouldn’t let her. I was a scarf magnet. I grabbed at that damn scarf to save my life. I guess I should use the word, “yank.”  I was a damn yankie. (hahaha..)

  Well, Teri and I crawled to the side. At first she was in front of me, but I wouldn’t let go of her scarf, despite being called all kind of terrible names through her laughing. I guess she felt like she was on a leash, so she crawled beside me. We made it to the side, and I unlaced my skates, and I was done.

 I had only been there for 10 minutes.

  Fast forward to about 1981. My boyfriend, (future husband, future ex-husband) took me ice skating with another couple. Great, just great. Well, Magoo couldn’t roller skate. He had never went ice-skating before.  We all know he couldn’t drive.I warned him about my previous encounter with the ice.  But, the idiot put his skates on and went right out on the ice. He never even did a test drive. I on the other hand, ended up in the middle of the rink by myself. Magoo knew to keep away from me, I guess. Some boyfriend he was. I was on my own this skating day.  I fell. I cursed. Decided to crawl over to the side of the rink like I did years before. This time I guy who was skating by me, baby stepping it, and somehow got too close, and ran over my scarf. Well, when he did, it somehow got caught on something and the scarf yanked at my neck. I yanked back, because remember, I was a damn yankie. The guy went down.

  Luckily, he wasn’t hurt. He told me he couldn’t skate and that “this is f*&^* up!” I couldn’t phrase it any better.  We decided to crawl over to the side together. I took off my skates and decided never to go ice-skating ever again.

I was on the ice for 5 minutes.

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Throwing Peanuts at Clemente

When I was at the gym last night I saw on the counter a special to  buy 4 tickets for $30 to see the Pittsburgh Pirates play. That made me smile.  I used to love to watch the Pittsburgh Pirates. I haven’t been to PNC park yet, because I hate PNC Bank with a passion. Well, that really wouldn’t keep me from seeing a Pirate game, but that will be another blog for another day.

When I was little, my dad used to take us to Forbes Field all the time.  We lived about 35 minutes away on a good traffic day. We used to hold our breath going through the Fort Pitt Tunnel ( that probably explains a lot) and I was always in awe of the sight of the city after coming out of the tunnel. It was breathtaking. Well, so was holding your breath through the tunnels. I don’t understand who the hell started that, but someone would always yell, “Hold your breath” and you could hear a collective inhale and my dad would have a little peace and quiet for a bit. Hell, maybe he is the one who started that ritual.

Anywho, Forbes Field was built in 1909 and closed in June of 1970. The field at opening, had 25,000 seats, which was the largest  in the league at that time. It was named after a Revolutionary War guy, General John Forbes. (I’m not that obsessed with the Pirates.  I am at Wikipedia, just so you know). They built Three Rivers Stadium to replace Forbes Field. Did the architects not ask someone if they thought it was an attractive site? I wish they would have called me. What a cold, sterile, uninviting place. I missed Forbes Field.

The best part of watching the Pittsburgh Pirates was getting peanuts in a shell.  I thought it was so cool to be able to crack open peanuts and then just throw  the shells at your feet. We could be slobs and not worry about getting yelled at!  It was great. My dad would buy us whatever we wanted. Nothing ever bothered my dad. He was cool. He went with the flow and always seemed to enjoy the day. Cheryl even behaved herself. Maybe it was Mom who set Cheryl off, because she was ok when she was with Dad.

There always seemed to be some sort of special day at a Pirates game. There was Hat day, Pennant Day and the day I loved the most, but can’t remember the exact title,  so I will call it, “First Come First Seat”.  People got to pay one price and go sit wherever they wanted to sit. How cool was that?  So, we would get there very early and then sit in the first row. Now, my memory is not great, so I can’t remember if we sat along the first base line or third base line. The only thing I know for sure is that we sat where the players would come out of the dugout and hang out  by the wall. We were so close to the players. Not so close that we could touch them, but close enough to hit them with peanuts.

Yeah, that’s right. The four of us bought bags of peanuts and threw peanuts at the players.  I think I was about 10 when we went to Forbes Field, so that would make it around 1966. The Pirate roster was just unbelievable. There was my favorite player, Gene Alley, and of course Bill Mazeroski, the great 2nd baseman who was from the Ohio Valley.  Others included Matty Alou, Willie Stargell, and Roberto Clemente. You may not have heard of Jose Pagan, but he was my favorite target during our peanut assault.

Now, I realize some readers here may be wondering why we would throw peanuts at the Pittsburgh Pirates. Well, because they were there. I remember the one day when Clemente, Jose Pagan and Gene Alley were standing around, talking. Gene Alley ended up being a Fuddy-Duddy, so I replaced him as my favorite player. David started the whole peanut throwing contest. “See who can hit Clemente.”  David threw first and it hit him in the shoulder.  He didn’t feel it, or pretended he didn’t feel it. I threw one at Clemente and it hit Jose Pagan. I was a terrible throw.  He quickly turned around like he was mad and looked through the aisle. Surely it wouldn’t be the four people sitting right in front of him, with bags of peanuts on our laps, quietly shaking from keeping the laugh inside us. He turned back around. Cheryl hit Gene Alley and he didn’t play our game and went back into the dugout..I hated Gene Alley.

Well, I know the whole thing only lasted about 3-5 minutes each time, but it was so much fun hitting these guys with peanuts. David was pelting Clemente. Now that I think about it, they were great sports. Jose Pagan would speak Spanish to Clemente and I just thought that was cool. We could never hear Clemente speak, just Pagan. I guess it was Spanish.

Who would have known that we were throwing peanuts at the most famous Pirate (in our opinion, of course) who ever lived. I remember my dad telling us when we woke up on either New Years Day or January 2  in 1973 (I was junior in high school) that Roberto Clemente had died in a plane crash while delivering supplies to a country that had been hit by an earthquake.

Years later, I asked my dad why he let us throw peanuts at the Pittsburgh Pirates every time we attended “First Come First Seat” Day at Forbes Field.

My dad got a big grin on his face and answered, “Because my dad let me.”