Part II : A Few Memorable Moments that could Only Happen in Plattsburgh

Sunday Night Movie Poster

Did you ever wonder why the College Center purchased a glass frame to house the poster for the Sunday Night Movie. You’re looking at him. So in the fall of 1983, Star Wars was on the docket, and I decided the above poster was mine. There was an added incentive too. Star Wars must have been released the previous winter, and you can see the mislabeled preview for the Return of the Jedi. Revenge of the Jedi, so I conspired with my roommate Bart, and we figured out the college center remained open and unattended after midnight. Thus, the downtown witching hour arrived, we instinctively found each other and did a little John Belushi Animal House two step into the building. The cost clear, we pulled down the poster and deftly made for the exit. We were never so on top of our game, and proceeded to steal the Search for Spock, Octopussy and several other posters. The glass case aside, the story does not have a happy ending. For some reason I still cannot explain, I gave Bart the Star Wars poster and I took for the Bond one. All I can say : why is youth wasted on the young?

Intramurals

Nothing was more important, I sadly never won an Intramural Champions T-shirt. On the other hand, in five years, I never missed a single volleyball or softball game. Our freshman year softball attempt was a disaster, though. Some good talent on 5th floor Wilson but too much dead weight to carry. So I had to do some finagling sophomore year to break the chains. I created two teams. The first team had a full roster and could field a team in the playoffs if necessary. The second only had five players, and the first team filled the field for the six regular season games. Of course, the second team could not field a playoff team, and I had to weather a degree of disapproval. However, the groundwork was laid to jettison the extras, and junior year had us positioned. We even had a cool name to go with my good work as general manager. Suicide Squeeze. We made the playoffs, beat the defending champs (Who Cares) but lost in the quarterfinals.

Adding even more depth, we had big dreams senior year. We finished 5-1, took the division, and the first two rounds of the playoffs. We ultimately fell to the hated Bangers 13-9 in the semis. A tragedy which our catcher perfectly summed up. “We would have ruled the school,” Steve assured. But I must still recognize our shinning moment in the quarterfinals. After scoring seven runs in the top of the 1st, we knew plenty more game was left to be played…or not. Their leadoff hitter scorched one in the hole at short, and it appeared we had a game. But our shortstop Tom Ryan had more than eyes on the ball. He went full horizontal and gave everyone in attendance a audible gasp. The game was over right there. What a moment.

The Brinkerhoff Cut Through

I lived at 137 Brinkerhoff during my fifth year. If you don’t remember, it was the house where everyone cut through to Broad Street, and the facilitation definitely plays in the story. So one late Saturday night, I was forced to the couch and settled down for a reasonably comfortable sleep. That was until I heard a noise on the front porch and the opening of the front door. Huh, all the occupants were already home, and two guys entered. They took a seat at the kitchen table and causally lit up a smoke. Now, anywhere else in the world, I would have been fumbling for a phone and searching for my concealed weapons. But this was Plattsburgh. I simply realized, they hit the cut through, were probably cold and took a little respite. Eventually, the wayward couple noticed me, took a few last drags and were on their way. Hey, we were all one big family. So I simply offered my hospitality by letting them finish, and they accepted by packing up. No fuss, no muss - Plattsburgh : We were all in it together.

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