Results tagged ‘ heavy metal ’
The following was taken from Mike Piazza’s autobiography, “Long Shot.”
…I wouldn’t have felt (my age) at all if the music in the clubhouse weren’t hurting my ears the way it did. When it comes to music I feel like I’m as open-minded as anybody out there, but (the A’s) had a young roster and, well, man. I like rap just fine–hell, I was wearing gold chains back when Olivia Newton-John was getting physical–if it’s classic rap, or even the new stuff when there’s a strong rhythm to it. As a thrash-metal guy from way back, I feel like I can handle some rough language and graphic lyrics; but some of the more contemporary rap is so blatantly hard-core that even an old Slayer and Anthrax man like me has a tough time dealing with it. I guess it’s a matter of age and tradition both. You have to understand, I came up with the Dodgers when the stadium music consisted exclusively of Nancy Bea Hefley at the organ. When that was cutback to modernize the atmosphere–to make the ballpark sound like every other ballpark–they turned to entrance music, with each player picking a theme song. With the Mets, I recall Tony Tarasco coming to the plate to an X–rated, in your face rap number that had the whole stadium sounding like a bad-ass clubhouse.
Can’t say I cared for that.
Now that we know the baseball card craze of the 80’s/90’s was a facade with no chance of anyone (besides the industry itself) making profit, we can laugh at the 100’s of dollars wasted, sleepless nights and tell our stories of woe.
There are many people out there who still think their collections are worth something, yet these bumbling dolts don’t understand supply and demand, and no doubt don’t understand much of anything else either. I recently bought a Mark McGwire 1987 Donruss “rated rookie” for 3 dollars. This is almost unheard of for a guy who once held the single season home run record, and is 10th all time. I felt no nostalgia, and with a “meh” I threw it in a box.
……and then I remembered
I was 12 years old (still a few years away from my first “kegger,” which was with a guy named Kevin Ballard who wore a Metallica shirt everyday. He only broke up the monotony on occasion with a Anthrax t shirt, who I personally thought sucked the bag.) The McGwire card was one of THE hottest properties for a young boy in Northern California, and people wouldn’t trade it for ANYTHING. Eventually, through hours of wheeling and dealing, I had acquired a few of these by the time Jr. High came rolling around. One day in wood shop, a very large, greasy, hispanic rocker type named Billy (who turned out to be a great hitter, but I wouldn’t know that until high school freshman try-outs) offered to trade me a cassette for ONE single, thin cardboard McGwire. I jumped at the chance! I had a large stack of them and welcomed the opportunity to talk to someone “cool” who would take the time and effort out of their exciting heavy metal life to make a tape for a nerd like me. ( I was a freckle faced, Opie looking kid who wouldn’t grow into my 6’2 frame until my sophomore year in high school.) Billy brought me the tape the next day and with a nod says,
“You needed to listen to Slayer.”
I waited with anticipation for school to let out and then popped that fucker into my Kmart cassette player. Best trade I ever made and changed my life forever. Thanks, dude.
Q: “Hey, why won’t the red light change?
A: “Hmm, gods of the throne must be watching from hell.”
Hessian = West coast name for a heavy metal fan
by John Quittner
Halloween 1991 was my first Halloween in Olympia, Wa. and I didn’t have any plans, so I was spending the evening cold kickin’ it with my roomies Brent and Maia watching Star Trek. As I went to the kitchen to fetch the wine, my confident strut was interrupted by a knock at the door. I opened up and found myself staring at two young hessians no older than 13 , who wore no costume except that of their normal hessain selves– sleeveless denim jacket with Guns and Roses headband and curled lip etc.
“Fuckin’ trick or treat.” they said.
‘We don’t have any candy or anything.”
“Got a cigarette?” one asked hopefully with a snarl.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Got any alcohol?” They were quite bold.
“Well,” I pointed to the liquor store “they’ll probably sell you some over there.”
“Aww dude, do I look 21 to you?”
“Sure.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah fuckin’ right.” They didn’t look like they were going anywhere.
I got an idea. “You guys want a Judas Priest record?”
Their eyes got all big…” Fuck yeah!” they said in unison.
“Well hang on a second, ” I started digging through my old hesh records.
“Fuck, man. Do you have PAINKILLER?”
‘Uh huh,” the last Judas Priest record I had bought was DEFENDERS OF FAITH, but then it occurred to me that budding heshers were more into speed metal, not standard early 80’s viking striking stuff.
“Who wants Anthrax FIST FULL OF METAL?”
I handed them both over and let them fight it out.
“KILLER! Thanks man!”
They ran off into the night, and I slept easy knowing that I had pleased two young heshers on their most special night of the year. How stoked would King Diamond be!?