I was an impressionable punk, easily swayed by older boys who if they jumped off a cliff I would have joined them before you could say Dan Fouts.
They were all Charger fans, and when I finally watched a Bolts game – blue helmets with yellow face masks; curved lightning bolts that told me they were badder asses than those ass clowns in tiger-stripe helmets let alone those gay blue stars from Texas – I knew this would be my team for better or worse, through good times and bad, live or die (mostly die).
The Chargers had cooler names then, too: Fouts, Chandler, Muncie, Kellen Winslow, Woodrow Lowe, Kelcher, “Big Hands” Johnson. (If only cool names landed you a ring).
So, with more than 400 Charger game under my belt, and the Bolts about to flub up another playoff game Sunday (that’s the positive vibes Charger fans throw off), I felt it was time to rank the top five games I’ve seen with my own two eyes, be it at Jack Murphy Stadium or on the tube when I was a hostage to the parental units.
Over the next five days, I’ll post my next top Charger game memory. The No. 1 game memory will be posted prior to the 2:30 p.m. battle (11:30 a.m. Hawaii time) Sunday.
***
Dec. 1, 1983: Chargers 10, L.A. Raiders 41
I fancied myself a decent sports better by age 11. Pop and I would bet on Monday Night Football and Monday Night Baseball games (yeah, I'm old enough to remember Monday Night Baseball on ABC) and I watched my allowance double most weeks. I was a regular Lefty Rosenthal, that’s how good I was at landing winners. OK, maybe some luck was involved (“That team’s uniform looks cool … I’ll put $5 on them Pop.”) When you get two bones per week for an allowance, a baseball card junky needs to make money to feed his four-pack-a-week habit needs to make cash somehow. Betting the old man seemed like a better option than selling powdered dishwasher soap and passing it off as black tar heroin.
The old man was (is) a supreme trash talker, too. He’d get under Mother Theresa’s skin if they had money down who was the hungriest Calcuttian.
“Why don’t you just give me your $5 now?”
“There’s no reason to watch the game, we know you’ll pay me in the end.”
I should have listened to the mouth on this game.
He started in early that Thursday night, which tugged my nerves right off the bat because his team allegiances went with the wind. If the L.A. Rams were top dogs, that was his team. If the Raider lead the pack, well you know what “I’ve been a Raider fan since I don’t remember when.” This was a Raider year. They finished the year 12-4, and won the whole enchilada, whooping Washington 38-9 in the Superbowl.
Dec. 1, 1983: Chargers 10, L.A. Raiders 41
I fancied myself a decent sports better by age 11. Pop and I would bet on Monday Night Football and Monday Night Baseball games (yeah, I'm old enough to remember Monday Night Baseball on ABC) and I watched my allowance double most weeks. I was a regular Lefty Rosenthal, that’s how good I was at landing winners. OK, maybe some luck was involved (“That team’s uniform looks cool … I’ll put $5 on them Pop.”) When you get two bones per week for an allowance, a baseball card junky needs to make money to feed his four-pack-a-week habit needs to make cash somehow. Betting the old man seemed like a better option than selling powdered dishwasher soap and passing it off as black tar heroin.
The old man was (is) a supreme trash talker, too. He’d get under Mother Theresa’s skin if they had money down who was the hungriest Calcuttian.
“Why don’t you just give me your $5 now?”
“There’s no reason to watch the game, we know you’ll pay me in the end.”
I should have listened to the mouth on this game.
He started in early that Thursday night, which tugged my nerves right off the bat because his team allegiances went with the wind. If the L.A. Rams were top dogs, that was his team. If the Raider lead the pack, well you know what “I’ve been a Raider fan since I don’t remember when.” This was a Raider year. They finished the year 12-4, and won the whole enchilada, whooping Washington 38-9 in the Superbowl.
The Chargers were 6-10 – two numbers that I'd get used to seeing next to the Chargers' name in the standings.
Tonight, I was going to show him, though. My Chargers were going to roll through his Raiders like they seasoned in lambs’ blood and tossed into a wolfs' den.
But it was the Bolts who were chewed up and shat out by the Raiders.
My whine began around halftime, and 11-year-old surliness took over midway through the third quarter. Before I understood the accepted means to deal with sport disappointment was to hurl inanimate objects at walls, such as TV remotes, combs, wireless phones, and cats, throwing hissy fits was my best defense mechanism (some would say it still is, just ask Wife).
I remember this game not for how shitty the Chargers played that night, but because of the lesson I learned when I told Pop I didn’t have the cash. It was kinda after-school specialish, but the old guy said a man is only as strong as his word. If you say you’re going to pay, well, back up the words with your actions. He let me skate without handing over the five bones, but he made sure I knew welching on bets will have serious consequences in the future – just because I’m kin, he said, didn’t mean Uncle Louie wouldn’t pay me a visit – his Steve Garvey model Louisville Slugger in tow - for skipping out on making good on a bet.
Words to live by, I guess.
Tonight, I was going to show him, though. My Chargers were going to roll through his Raiders like they seasoned in lambs’ blood and tossed into a wolfs' den.
But it was the Bolts who were chewed up and shat out by the Raiders.
My whine began around halftime, and 11-year-old surliness took over midway through the third quarter. Before I understood the accepted means to deal with sport disappointment was to hurl inanimate objects at walls, such as TV remotes, combs, wireless phones, and cats, throwing hissy fits was my best defense mechanism (some would say it still is, just ask Wife).
I remember this game not for how shitty the Chargers played that night, but because of the lesson I learned when I told Pop I didn’t have the cash. It was kinda after-school specialish, but the old guy said a man is only as strong as his word. If you say you’re going to pay, well, back up the words with your actions. He let me skate without handing over the five bones, but he made sure I knew welching on bets will have serious consequences in the future – just because I’m kin, he said, didn’t mean Uncle Louie wouldn’t pay me a visit – his Steve Garvey model Louisville Slugger in tow - for skipping out on making good on a bet.
Words to live by, I guess.
Tomorrow, a tale about a running back I knew as LT.
6 comments:
Oh Chargers, if only I had found you sooner. I love this concept though. Since you're a "more seasoned" (older) Chargers fan, I'm interested to hear your take on the 5 best games you've seen.
I should clarify, these might not be the best games I've seen (a 41-10 loss to the Raiders was probably as exciting as watching a pine needles grow), but the most memorable games I've seen. And they're memorable only because they stick out in my head more than others.
After I wrote "best" I realized it wasn't the best choice of words. The only way watching the Chargers get painted by the Raiders would be a "best" is if you were a masochist or something. Either way, I'm intrigued.
And I do have masochistic tendencies - obviously, being a Charger and Dodger fan for 30-some-odd years.
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PAY UP KID? P.S. IF THE RAMS WERE STILL IN L.A. I WOULD STILL BE A FAN NEVER A RAIDER FAN. HAVE AGOOD YEAR GO CHARGERS.
I remember you rooting for the Raiders, but that was probably just to get my goat. As for the cash I owe ya from 20 years ago, you wouldn't want take food out of your own grandbaby's mouth, now, would ya?
(Yeah, that's right, I played the baby card again)
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