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Dammit. I always take great pride in not being aware of what the ball sports people are doing. I once alienated a couple of customers once when they rolled down a window (I can't explain climate control on a beautiful spring day, but these were sports fans)to ask excitedly, "Do you know who's winning the game?" and I asked, "Who's playing?" They listed a couple of teams, and I asked, "Is that hockey?" They rolled up the window and drove off, and I still don't know.
All too often, a Bronco's sticker on an SUV says to me: "Out of my way with that child's toy, hippie--I've got more manly concerns on my mind." At some point I always expect NPR will break through my blissful ignorance with an obligatory jock story, but I didn't expect it on a bike blog.
I grew up just outside Pittsburgh. It still seems like home. I remember the wonder as Chuck Noll built the team up from a so-so one into a powerhouse. Stallworth, Swan, Greene, Lambert, were all household names.
Terry Grossman came into the bike shop once or twice. He was a tight end, with the biggest hands I've ever seen. He had two bikes, a Schwinn Paramount and a Volare (if I recall right) and he even rode a few crits with the ACA under an assumed name.
I'll be sitting on the couch Sunday, yelling at the TV set!