Growing up in the shadow of the ravine was magical. It was a time when being a sports fan in Los Angeles was as good as it got. Summer nights meant one thing, Vinnie, Tommy and the boys in blue; either on the tube or in the box.If you missed it painting the town red, you could always count on Stu to fill you in on what went down. Breakfast meant laughs with 'Mudd, perspective with Murray, and the beat with Bob.
Much like W. Axle and the strip, L.A. peaked early. Pete got out while the gettin' was good, Vinnie only overnights on the coast and Tommy was 86ed only to bring home the gold. Stu went fishing, 'Mudd and Murray punched their tickets, and Bob went national.
What are we left with? The valet and his Blue Sox, Charlie and Psycho on the call while Adande and Plaschke gab with stat boy. Will someone please call in the 101st! We need to storm the beaches of L.A. sports journalism. Get Kilgore on the horn...I love the smell of napalm in the morning!
1 comment:
There is absolutely ZERO credibility in today's sports journalism. We have been reduced to a society that likes it fast, with a quick sound bite and some fast moving clips. At "the papers the papers," all we get is Simers speaking in code about his daughter and his passive aggressive hatred towards all things sacred to LA sports fan.
Time to take back control of the ship, brother.
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