As I sit trying to relax, clearing my head of whatever clutter is clogging it, often I’ve caught myself drifting back in time.
No, I’m not attempting to relive, rehash or dwell on the past. I’ve just been thinking about when times were much simpler. Everyday life seemed so much easier, as navigating the day’s events wasn’t such a daunting task.
Granted, I was obviously younger, and not as well-versed in the ways and the rules of the world, including life in general. Born in 1961, that makes me part of the baby boomer generation. To be honest, I wouldn’t trade growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s as opposed to modern times.
Lessons learned from the school of hard knocks, so to speak, proved extremely valuable as the years passed. I grew up on the streets just like the rest of the gang I ran with. Banish the thought, as our parents didn’t abandon us or put us out of the house to fend for ourselves.
All of our parents were loving, supportive people who treated the other kids as if they were their own.
Alluding to the fact I was part of a gang growing up is a true statement; however, it was not the prototypical gang as we know them today. Reference being a sports gang, as we were never in the house during any season, regardless of the weather. We weren’t allowed to be.
Our gang members consisted of both male and female counterparts as all were thick as thieves and had each other’s back no matter the situation. If a problem or disagreement arose, we settled it with our fists, not a knife or club or a gun. You battled it out with a winner and loser eventually determined, then it was over, for good. No long-standing grudge — it was over, period, and you remained friends and family once again.
Maybe the sports girls of our crew were in essence way ahead of their time as far as women in sports were concerned.
The routine every day was pretty much the same, weather permitting. Up in the morning, then breakfast and chores of the day would be checked off the list.
Next up, gather up the sports equipment, whatever the season – baseball, football, basketball, hockey or tennis – and then head out. Even something as simple as throwing a rubber ball off the steps or a wall, if it involved a sport, we were doing it.
If there wasn’t someone sitting on your porch waiting, your job was to rally the troops. Start knocking on doors and rousting the others to convene at the local playground.
When school was in session, the routine was a bit different. Homework would be done immediately upon arrival, then family dinner when dad arrived home from work, followed by household chores. Finally, it would be outside time with the gang until the street lights came on. If it wasn’t sports of some sort, it was kick the can, hide-and-seek or release the peddler.
At any point in time the playground or ball fields would be the place to find us until it was time to venture home. There would be hell to pay if we lost track of time and showed up late. The punishments would be severe.
We all had rules to follow. We were treated with respect, and we treated others as such. We were free to roam the town, enjoying the company of friends or relatives. We enjoyed much freedom, always cautious of what we were allowed to do and say without disrespecting or damaging the family name.
If we had a momentary lapse in judgment and wound up in minor trouble, rest assured our parents knew about it before we hit the front porch. Forget about attempting to lie your way out of it. That would only compound the issue, resulting in far worse of an outcome.
Parents sacrificed so much for their children – it’s a shame it took us all so long to realize it. Whatever we needed or wanted, within reason, was provided for us.
Of course money was tight at times; our parents knew that, even though it was beyond our realm of comprehension. Neither they nor I lived through the Great Depression, but their parents – my grandparents – did.
I couldn’t fathom the idea of attempting to make dinner for a family of five with a few potatoes, a carrot and some peas, along with an egg or two and – if fortunate enough – some sort of meat in a very small quantity. A meal that, more often than not, was the only one of the day.
They somehow survived, just as my parents did and I’m doing right now. All, including myself, have learned very valuable life lessons making us stronger, more resilient to whatever this crazy thing called life tosses at us.
I can remember my grandfather saying, “No matter how bad things get, you can always count on this. People will always have garbage and always find a way to get their booze.” Crazy old Italian guy or a man wise beyond his years?
I never really comprehended until later in life what sacrifices were actually made. As I matured, I finally realized it.
Later in life I remember sitting with my dad and uncles as they conversed about the past during a holiday or family gathering. The one constant that races to the forefront is when I would chime in and exclaim, “Is this going to be another ‘when bread was a nickel a loaf’ story?”
Bursting into uncontrollable laughter, the entire room would proclaim that I would be old one day and reminisce with stories of days gone by.
Darned if that isn’t what I’m doing right now. I suppose the following for all to read is my version of when bread was a nickel a loaf, albeit fast-tracked later in the article to somewhat more modern times.
The prices of staple items growing up pale in comparison with prices of the modern-day world. It all seemed laughable, almost unbelievable, as to the cost of products and entertainment. Upon graduating high school in 1979, gas was 86 cents a gallon, milk $1.99 gallon, a dozen eggs 86 cents and bread 49 cents a loaf. A new car cost $6,848 and a new house would set you back $62,000.
It’s no great secret or threat to national security that I love sports and grew up in a sports-oriented family. Both parents excelled in their own respective sports back in their heyday.
The same holds true of lower prices in the sports world as well, which I suppose is really the basis of this walk down memory lane. I was fortunate to have parents who loved sports, and whenever extra cash within the budget was available, we would be somewhere watching some event.
Venues like Forbes Field, Pitt Stadium, Duquesne Gardens, Civic Arena, Fitzgerald Field House and starting in 1970 Three Rivers Stadium offered the setting. Trips to Cleveland on the train to view the Indians, Browns and later the Cavs also were taken.
The list of star athletes that graced all the aforementioned playing venues is unthinkable. There was talent galore: Mantle, Mays, Berra, Musial, Gibson, Rose, Munson, Fosse, Drysdale, Koufax, Clemente and Stargell of baseball fame. Unitas, Sayers, Butkus, Campbell, Stabler, Staubach, Dawson, Dorsett, Marino and more on the gridiron, On the hardwood Erving, Chamberlain, Alcindor (later Abdul-Jabbar) Barry, Baylor, Thomas, Johnson, Bird and Jordan to name a few. The game that was played on two inches of ice offered Hull, Orr, Dryden, Gretzky, Esposito, Lemieux, Barrasso, Malkin and Crosby.
In keeping pace with the rising cost of everything, one can only imagine what these players would have commanded from a salary standpoint in today’s market.
The same holds true for entry into many of the venues where their talents would have been showcased. Walk with me back to days gone by and look at the price structure for admission to some notable places and major sporting events. I was fortunate to attend with my family, well before my photography career was even thought of.
To gain entry as an adult to the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in 1969, it set you back $1.50. If you were fortunate enough to be at the Sugar Bowl in 1977 to watch the University of Pittsburgh win the national championship, the price tag for entry was a mere $12.
1978’s Steelers Divisional Playoff contest would have you spending $12.25 to get in and the AFC Championship matchup in January of 1979 cost you $15.25. Super Bowl XIII in sunny Miami came with an admission price tag of $30.
A ticket to get into San Francisco’s Candlestick Park to view the Pirates battle the Giants in 1980 was $6. 1983 offered an $18 price tag for a Steelers home playoff game. If you were one of the Steeler faithful who shuffled off to Buffalo for an AFC regular season matchup, you spent $15 to enter what was then Ralph Wilson Stadium.
As a college basketball fan, there was no better deal than the 1988 Big East Tournament at Madison Square Garden in New York City. For each two-game session, $21 got you through the door.
Perhaps the NBA was on your hit list in 1989; a quick trip to Cleveland and the Coliseum for a Cavs playoff game was $8. That price jumped to $10 in 1990 to watch the Cavs in the playoffs again. While you were out in the great state of Ohio, if you were a fan of the Indians, $4.50 would get you a general admission seat.
Some venue prices started to climb as we entered the 1990s; however, affordable entry was still available for the most part. The 1990 NL Championship series at Three Rivers Stadium was $20 per game with that entry price doubling in 1991 to $40. In that same year at the Civic Arena, for $25, you could watch Team USA vs. Team Canada in an August World Tour contest. If the Penguins and Sabres were on your 1991 dance card in Buffalo, then $12 got you a decent seat.
Venturing further into 1991, if you made the trip – as I did – to Louisville, Ky., to watch the NCAA opening round of March Madness, $20 was all it took to settle into a seat.
1992 sent me off to Canada to watch two separate sporting events at two different venues. At 1:35 p.m., it was the Blue Jays and Pirates at Skydome for a $14 price tag followed by a short trip to the historic Maple Leaf Gardens for the Pens-Leafs’ 8 p.m. contest for $18.
The list of games and venues goes on and on through the rest of the decade. Prices were certainly on the rise as player contracts became more lucrative. Unfortunately it’s the common fan who incurs the escalating ticket prices.
1999 saw the end of an era at the University of Pittsburgh as the school said farewell to historic Pitt Stadium. The Panthers took on and defeated Notre Dame in the final football game to be played on that hallowed ground. If you were lucky enough and had $35, then you witnessed history.
How many people can say they had their dad by their side to open and close sporting venues?
Heading into Y2K, prices for every single event continued to rise, and college sports was no exception. The 2002 NCAA national championship game in Atlanta came with an $80 entry fee. The cheapest seat in the 500 level of Heinz Field for the 2002 AFC Championship matchup between the Steelers and Patriots was $65.
2007’s Stanley Cup Conference quarterfinals between the Penguins and Ottawa Senators came with a hefty $140 price tag to get in for a mid-level seat at Mellon Arena.
Sporting event prices continue to escalate, be it regular season, playoffs or championship games. The average fan with a family would most likely have to sell a kidney on eBay for a night out in this day and age.
Any of the marquee events – Super Bowl, Stanley Cup Finals, World Series, NBA Finals, NCAA Championships in any sports or All-Star games have become insanely – priced. If you aren’t lucky enough to know someone who can get you a ticket for the face value, expect to pay several times more on the secondary market if you really wish to attend. They have all become shows for the rich and famous.
Given the upbringing that I had not only in everyday life but the sporting world as well, I consider myself extremely fortunate. I will deeply cherish and always remember things that I’ve experienced with family and friends.
After my mom was called home, my dad and I leaned on each other and found solace in what we loved: sports. As my photography career evolved my dad would accompany me at times when the situation was conducive.
How many people can say they had their dad by their side to open and close sporting venues? We closed Forbes Field, Pitt Stadium, Three Rivers Stadium twice – once for baseball and once for football – Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium (twice) and Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium.
We opened Three Rivers Stadium, Heinz Field, PNC Park, Cleveland’s Jacobs Field and Baltimore’s Camden Yards.
An age old adage that states, “Who said you can’t go home again?” rings true. Each of us will always have the opportunity to travel down memory lane. I strongly recommend it. Take the trip; this venue won’t cost you a penny to enter and it’ll do you a world of good. After all, isn’t that why we worked so hard to build memories that last a lifetime?
I wouldn’t trade those times of my youth, teenage and early adult life spent with my family and friends for anything – and I do mean anything in this world. None of us will ever be able to put a price tag on it.
Memories keep us young at heart, which in turn is good for the soul. Remember, “You can always go home again.”
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