Re: Goin' way back--while we're all fighting so...
I never got to Crosley, having arrived in Cincinnati in the winter of 75-76 (right ahead of Bohemian Rhapsody) my first experiences involved Tiger Stadium, which was a mammoth monster in the midst of the most run down rubble I had ever seen in my short life, we always "locked" our doors once inside 8 Mile, dropping a few bucks on some older black gent in a pork pie hat we usually left our car in his front yard with a few other cars that had heard of that mans deal. The stadium had long dingy ramps that led you up and before you went to the seats you might have to visit the foulest restrooms ever conjured up in your suburban world.
But once through the portal a fine wash of sunlight lit the vast green expanse and the Tigers stood out there in their crisp, clean, classy white uniforms. The right field terrace loomed over Al Kaline as he poised himself for each pitch.
In my excitement I spilled my popcorn over the rail and onto the field, wheer it sat looking out of place in a world of perfection.
Who won? Hell if I know... but my dad yelled at a hippie and and I got an autographed team ball at the concession stand.
The experience of entering that stadium on a snowy fall afternoon for a football game was also a surreal experience.