On the drive down to the Great American Tilt Yard, Lou and I reviewed that evening's festivities and our plan of attack. Upon informing Lou the soundtrack for the post-game fireworks was to be a selection of hit songs from 1976, we immediately began speculating as to what we may be subjected to.
Eagles? Maybe; not bad.
Queen, Elton John? Both awful; this could get ugly.
With me helming the Jeep Main Battle Tank through a mine field of construction zones and rush hour traffic, scanning the onboard SatNav for real time traffic alerts, Lou utilized his Android to search the Top 40 songs for this same week in 1976 as well as looking up the top 100 songs for the 1976 year. Often when I find myself on patrol late at night or on weekends when there isn't a Reds game being broadcast I will settle my radio dial on a station playing the Top 40 from some long-ago year, mostly out of a recently discovered fascination I have for all the terrible music from artists I've somehow never heard of but - yet - were wildly popular among the American public for indiscernible reasons. It's the radio-listening equivalent of rubbernecking car wrecks; You know it's going to be bad but you just can't resist the urge to look - or in this case, listen - and subject yourself to the carnage.
With alacrity Lou began reading aloud the Top 10 songs from this week in 1976:
#10 - "I'll be Good To You" by The Brothers Johnson
#9 - "Afternoon Delight" by The Starland Vocal Band
#8 - "More, More, More (Part 1)" by the Andrea True Connection
#7 - "Shop Around" by The Captain and Tennille
#6 - "Shannon" by Henry Gross
#5 - "Sara Smile" by Daryl Hall and John Oates
#4 - "Love Hangover" by Diana Ross
#3 - "Misty Blue" by Dorothy Moore
#2 - "Get Up and Boogie (That's Right)" by Silver Connection
#1 - "Silly Love Songs" by Wings
At risk of exposing my limited knowledge of mid-1970s pop music to widespread ridicule from my easy listening subscribers, most of the above list was foreign to me. Sure, Diana Ross we knew, Wings (and Paul McCartney in general) we loathe. What children of the 1970s doesn't know of Daryl Dragon and Toni Tennile from their short-lived but seemingly ubiquitous television variety show? Hall and Oates in the 1970s, I observed, were like the Syd Barrett years for Pink Floyd; largely unknown, mostly unlistenable and practically irrelevant. We agreed that "Afternoon Delight" with it's lyric about "...Skyrockets in flight..." seemed an obvious choice for the fireworks (evidently it proved too obvious as it was omitted from the fireworks soundtrack; Yes, I'm sad to admit Lou and I both knew the lyrics). I think "More, More More" is being used currently in a national advertising campaign for some commercial entity. Otherwise, the rest of this Top 10 has - to my own awareness, at least - been swallowed by the mawing gullet of oblivion.
I think most of my sophisticated music sufficionado Heavy Artillery subscribers are in consensus that so-called pop music is mostly bad, no matter the calendar year. Yet 1970s pop music surely proved to be the nadir of the species.
As an aside directed to the fillies reading this, isn't it about time you bring back the Dorothy Hamill hair style?
The remainder of this week's 1976 Top 40 was equally atrocious. Probably more so. Observe for yourself, here.
Lou's intrepid research suggests the fireworks soundtrack was significantly influenced by Billboard's year-end "Hot 100" singles. We heard "Silly Love Songs" during the fireworks show. Also "A Fifth of Beethoven." Including pre-game and between inning fare we thrice heard "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." What else Kiki Dee may have done in her presumptive career cannot be proven by me. Elton John, we all know, achieved great success thanks entirely to The Who.
Now, back to the action!
Severe weather brought in by a cold front in the early morning hours of Thursday served to lower the heat and humidity for Friday night's game.
The leading edge brought with it a 2:50am tornado warning, my deep slumber being interrupted by the faint sound of a tornado siren. I'm surprised I heard it. An hour and a half later, a strong wind roused me from my sleep again, when I captured the two screenshots above. Then went back to sleep. And so on Friday we experienced just about as favorable weather conditions as one should justifiably expect for SW Ohio in late June.
One by one, 40 minutes prior to game time, attending members of the 1976 Big Red Machine were announced and they took their places along the first base line. Pete Rose was the last to be introduced, it is ultimately his weekend after all, and in the photo below I captured the moment he and Hall of Famer Johnny Bench high-fived one another:
JB made a few brief comments once the team was assembled.
Notably absent from the proceedings was Pete's best friend from his BRM playing days, Joe Morgan. Little Joe was not in good health during last summer's celebrations surrounding the unveiling of Tony Perez' statue (or is it a sculpture?) and he has since, seemingly, disappeared from public view. An announcement was made to the public that Morgan was unable to attend the BRM festivities but that he "was there in spirit." This is all too foreboding. We all hope Little Joe is OK or that he soon will be OK. [Going-to-press edit: During this afternoon's national broadcast, Pete said Joe Morgan was awaiting a bone marrow transplant.]
In the fifth inning, Lou and I repaired to the Champion Club's interior for a feast of yummy grub:
On the evening I had a cheeseburger. And a hot dog. And nachos. And Montgomery Inn BBQ pulled chicken on tortillas. And a slice of LaRosa's pizza. And a cinnamon pretzel. And popcorn. And two Coca-Colas. And I should stop now.
MVP!
Bruuuuuce!
The game itself was agonizing. The Reds didn't pitch, hit or field well. One bright spot came from the ball yard's dueling JumboTrons which presented the standard in-game data (score, balls/strikes, stats, etc) in a style reminiscent of the black-and-white 8-bit graphics as graced the Riverfront Stadium scoreboard in the 1970s. Who could ever forget this Riverfront-era classic:
You can purchase a similarly adorned t-shirt here. I strongly recommend it.
Fortunately for you, my Android disintegrated most of the other 50+ photos I took so this represents just about all I have remaining from the evening.
After dropping Lou off at his palatial estate among the foothills of Fairfield late that Friday night, the quality of musical selections I ran across on satellite radio steadily improved before then regressing and, oddly, running full-circle:
If you check the clock display, you'll observe that to the Stones I didn't long listen. Seriously, does anyone?
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