I'm at the Orbit Room up on California and Fullerton last Saturday with my buddy Engleman, having a few drinks after my 10:00 p.m. tennis league match, which ended a little before midnight.
I'm wearing shorts, and my Joe Namath jersey sweatshirt—the one I've had since 1994, when I begged my wife for it for Christmas, despite the fact that it cost 80 bucks, which was real money in 1994.
I go to take a leak. And do you know what this slovenly-chic dude from a table of Gen Y hipsterfuckdweebs stops me to ask?
"Excuse me, we're trying to settle a bet. Is that a Chad Pennington jersey?"
Do you know who Chad Pennington was? Yeah, I didn't think so. That's why I linked to his name. You don't need no link to Namath.
Chad Pennington!
Luckily, I had the Namath-like cool to borrow a line from my onetime colleague Ralph Gaillard.
"If I were dead," I told these sorry, ignorant bearded children, "I'd be rolling over in my grave."
Leave a Reply