Sooo, today’s Daily Post asks for a memorable moment involving a sporting event. Some of these prompts are tricky, but not this. I got this one covered.
It was June of 1992 and the Pittsburgh Penguins just swept the Chicago Blackhawks to win the Stanley Cup. Woo Hoo! My friends and were at a bar in the Oakland section of Pittsburgh when this happened. Like almost everyone else, we poured out of the bar, down the stairs, and out into the street to hoot and holler with everyone else around. It was your typical evening of (thankfully minor league) mayhem that follows a sports championship. After a few minutes of jumping and cheering, my 21 year-old self looked at some of the other loonies that had climbed on top of a city bus. “What a great idea. I wanna do that too!” my youthful, drunken, and possibly, er, “smoked out” self thought. And so, I made my climb via the back of the bus to its top. Boy oh boy, was I having fun! But then, I heard warnings from below that the cops were coming. Uh-oh. Better get outta there! I looked down and two strangers told me to jump. “Come on! We’ll catch you!” they cried out. “No no no, I’m good man!” I yelled back (or something to that effect) and then hopped off the bus. And then, POP! I felt something snap in my left ankle. There was a brief flash of pain but then that was gone and replaced with a swelling numbness and an inability to stand on that leg. As others were either still celebrating I found myself in a state of panic and possibly mild shock as I limped around the street yelling “CHAS!!! CHAS!!!” as I looked for my college roommate. I eventually found him and one of his fraternity brothers after what seemed like an eternity (read: 5-10 minutes). The next I remember is limping into his car and going to the nearest emergency room. One long, painful wait later, and I found myself fitted with a nice plaster cast. I would be wearing it for the next six weeks. During that time, I learned about the unique pleasures of showering while injured, hobbling around on crutches, and why pencils and rulers are your best friend when you get an itch beneath a cast. It wasn’t my greatest moment, to be sure. Still, my sister pointed out to me a few years ago that I was just being young and stupid and that I should just laugh about it. Plus, she pointed out, it makes for a good story. And she was right. And there you have it, that’s my story involving a sporting event.