Friday, April 30, 2010

My Breif Stint As A Serial Killer: A Repost


In honor of my hometown teams ascent into the playoffs and my vicious love of all things sports, I'm reposting this little diddy to illustrate that here in Boston, we are born with that special kind of something that puts the "eek" in sports freak. Some of you may have already read it, and if so feel free to move along and have a great weekend bloggers.


Back in the 80's the Boston Celtics reigned supreme in the NBA. ( kinda like they do today) These were the good old days of Larry Bird, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale. Yeaah, I still wax sentimental when I think of the "Big Green" in those days. At the time, I was a young high school student without much of a social life, so the Celts became my constant companion. Even though a few decades have come and gone since then, I still remember the incident with the clarity as if it happened just yesterday.

It was a Friday night late in the spring of that year. Being the youngest in a family of five without a social calendar to adhere to, I was left alone in the house, as even my parents were out to dinner with friends. The Celts were playing the dreaded Detroit Pistons that night in a battle to sit atop the NBA. The Pistons were the team we loved to hate, with bad boys lining their payroll the likes the NBA has yet to see to this day. We're talking headliners like Bill Laimbeer, Isiah Thomas, and the reprehensable Dennis Rodman. Back in those days, Rodman was at work fine tuning his bad boy image; showing up to events in drag dressed as a bride, wearing black lipstick and make-up, and hanging out with Madonna. The dude was a freak! but he had serious game so the Pistons put up and shut up, as they say. It was always a dog fight when the Celts and the Pistons played, their disdain for each other no secret to any casual observer. Especially when the game took place inside the hallowed, historied walls of the Boston Garden and this night would prove to be no different.

It was a warm evening and our house had no central AC, so I had the windows open in my room which faced the south side of the house, not too far from my neighbor's house while I watched the game. And what a game it was! One of those legendary-once in a lifetime-triple overtime- with one-second-left-basket, to put the game into YET another overtime-game. I was jumping on my bed, going nuts! I remember shouting at the refs, shouting at the players, hootin and hollering and screaming thing like, "take that bitch!" and "die Laimbeer, die!" I am nothing if not a passionate sports fan. After the game was over and the Celts spanked the Pistons like the bitches that they were, I decided to go down to the kitchen to make myself a mini victory feast, a huge smile covering my face.

Our kitchen was accessible from the driveway on the south side of the house, and I had left the front door open, leaving just the unlocked screen door,between myself and the bright, shining light which was now glaring through the screen into my kitchen. As I turned the corner to enter the kitchen, and just before switching on the light, I caught a glimpse of the glare of the un-invited illumination and it stopped me dead in my tracks.

Panic paralyzed my body and my at one time victorious smile disappeared as I stood still while the next chain of events happened.

In one fell swoop, the screen door opened and four uniformed police officers descended upon me like a SWAT training exercise in progress. One officer scooped my up into his arms while the other officers, weapons brandished, scattered all over my house.

"Miss, are you alright?" the officer holding me shouted. "Are you hurt?"

Again, paralyzed by fear, I tried to utter some form of a response, but much like I was in the midst of a bad dream, I couldn't get the words out.

"Are you OK?" the officer pleaded again.

"Yeah," was all I could meekly utter, in the confines of the officer's protective grasp.

"What happened here?" the officer asked. "We got a call from the neighbors saying there were loud screams and what seemed like violence going on over here. Are you alone?"

By this time the other three officers were coming back from their search of a completely empty house, replacing their weapons in their holsters.

"Ummm. Yeah, I'm alone," I uttered, my face reddened with fear and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. Everything's fine." I said. My face contorted into a meek, sort of coquettish grin as I said, "I was just watching the Celtics game."

Complete silence. For a good five seconds, which seemed like a lifetime because all I remember was the sound of the excessive pounding of my heart .

The sounds of uproarious laughter, which broke the silence, much to my relief, then filled the room and after a few moments, the cops started high fiving me and playfully patting me on the back.

"You'd better go tell your neighbor you are ok. She thought there was a murder taking place over here," a cop said.

"Ohh, this is good. I can't wait to tell the chief this one," another cop said.

"Hey, did they win? HAHAHA!!"

They all seemed to be having a good laugh at my expense. I didn't care. I was just grateful that I wasn't in any kind of trouble. Being 15 at the time, anything that involves the cops and no trouble was always a good thing. They then left my house, warning me to lock the door behind them and go to bed!

The funny thing is that the cops never forgot that night. I spent the next few years known, in my small town as "Celtics Fan" a title I wore proudly. They always cut me and my friends a little more slack at football games and home town events than the other kids. I guess the infamy I gained because of that evening served me well. My neighbor never quite got over it though. For a long while after the incident, she would shutter when she saw me. She probably still thinks I'm some sort of serial killer.

14 comments:

Scope said...

I remember this post, but read it through again, because I love it so much. I once had my apartment building send me a "quiet hours" notice the day after the NCAA basketball finals.

I was the only one in the apartment and wasn't really cheering FOR anyone, just responding to the game. Can't imagine what would have happened if I'd actually CARED about the outcome.

Joanie M said...

Hahahah!!! Oh that's great, Candy! I must have missed this one the first time around. I'm glad you did a repost. So, whadya think of the sixers?

Jim said...

I remember how we sucked a bit during the mid-70's, before Bird showed up (yes, despite all of those world championships), and how the old Garden smelled like urine and cigars . . . other than that, it's all good, though ;-)

XO

SkylersDad said...

I can't tell you how much I love this post, but I have always been a Celtics fan. My dear sister converted me when I was young, and my favorite team was the one that won the 1969 championship!

Slyde said...

.... waiting to see Earl's response...

Heff said...

I think I remember this post as well, not that it's any less funny !

RW said...

He picked you up to rescue you.

Suuuuuure he did... :-)

Scott Oglesby said...

My God I used to love the old Celtics. But I loved the Lakers (with Magic) even more, those were some great series.

I hope you have an amazing weekend Candy!!

GO Pens!!

Cora said...

You passionate little thing you! I love this. :-)

the walking man said...

Couple of factual errors here...Rodman during those days was under the tutelage of Chuck Daly and WAS NOT in his drag queen, flamboyant period yet. That was when he was traded to Chicago.

And that parquet floor of the old Garden was so warped only the Celtics knew which way the ball would bounce on any given inch of the thing.

What year were you 15? {;-p}

1988

* Game 1: DET 104 BOS 96
* Game 2: BOS 119 DET 115
* Game 3: DET 98 BOS 94
* Game 4: BOS 79 DET 78
* Game 5: DET 102 BOS 96
* Game 6: DET 95 BOS 90

1989

* Game 1: DET 101 BOS 91
* Game 2: DET 102 BOS 95
* Game 3: DET 100 BOS 85

1990

* Game 1: DET 86 BOS 75
* Game 2: BOS 109 DET 103
* Game 3: BOS 115 DET 83
* Game 4: DET 104 BOS 97
* Game 5: DET 116 BOS 111
* Game 6: DET 117 BOS 113


There were four other Eastern conferences listed but we can guess why I didn't bother to list them here.

Candy's daily Dandy said...

Ooooo, Walking Man how I love a challenge....

this was not the 88 season, but the 1983-84 season. was it playoff basketball? a quick check tells me that they did not meet in the playoffs that year, so it could have been a regular season game...None the less exciting.
A check also shows that Rodman did not play for Detroit until 1986, but Lambier and Isiah both did in 83.I obviously made an amalgam of my Pistons memories, so I stand corrected.
Lambier was a hated man in these parts and so were the Pistons
We loved to hate them.

the year was either 1982 or 1983 making me either fifteen or sweet sixteen. while I cannot remember the exact game date I do remember the incident with vivid clarity.

the walking man said...

If I remember correctly Detroit was Rodman's first team and I don't think he came out of college ball. I thin he was scouted in TX and picked up for his rebounding jump. Old Bill was/is a hero round here when he took the ladies to the WBA championship 4 times.

But don't forget Rick Mahorn and Joe Dumars along with the ever so nice and sweet Isiah Thomas during those years as well. I think that was the front five that stumped the NBA for those late 80's years...

And yeah Candace I can remember every time I have been picked up by the cops too.

Candy's daily Dandy said...

How true that last sentence is!
Hee hee....

Candy's daily Dandy said...
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