Where have all the little boys gone?
Would-be Tony Soprano had a marathon session last night asking listeners where they were when they first found their favorite Philly team on teevee. He was right to ask. I listened to it, fascinated. Every personal account was touching, from the Super Bowl Eagles of 1981 and 2005 to 2018. Lots of heartbreak and finally joy.
The most articulate and passionate caller said it for a lot of us. Philly sports was the way the little boy in all of us was preserved. Gargano loved this idea absolutely. Made me think of the best-ever Tom Waits song. No, not Jersey Girl. Called On the Nickel.
Here are the lyrics:
Sticks and stones will break my bones
But I always will be true
And when your mama is dead and gone
I'll sing this lullaby just for you
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who never comb their hair?
They're lined up all around the block
On The Nickel over there.
So you better bring a bucket
There is a hole in the pail
If you don't get my letter
Then you'll know that I'm in jail
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who never say their prayers?
They're sleepin' like a baby
On The Nickel over there.
If you chew tobacco, and wish upon a star
You'll find out where the scarecrows sit
Just like punchlines between the cars
I know a place where a royal flush
Can never beat a pair
And even Thomas Jefferson
Is On The Nickel over there
So ring around the rosie, you're sleepin' in the rain
And you're always late for supper
And man you let me down, let me down again
I thought I heard a mockingbird, Roosevelt knows where
You can skip the light with grady tuck
On the Nickel over there.
So what becomes of all the little boys
Who run away from home?
The world just keeps gettin' bigger
Once you get out on your own
So what becomes of all the little boys
The sandman takes you where
You'll be sleepin' with a pillowman
On the Nickel over there
So let's climb up through that button hole
And fall right up the stairs
I'll show you where the short dogs grow
On the Nickel over there.
Thought I heard a mockingbird, Roosevelt knows where
You can skip the light with grady tuck
And fall right up the stairs
I'll show you where the short dogs grow
On the Nickel over there.
_______
Gargano’s callers thought women don’t get it, but team affiliations are the Safe Haven all men need to keep the little boy in their souls alive, proof against the nasties of life. The only one not getting it was me, the one older than everyone on the radio. First time I saw the Eagles was 1960, the last time Philly won the NFL championship till 2018. But that’s all locked away, along with my “little boy.” Locked as close and tight as the 1980 Phillies; I suffered enough in 1964 and every year after, until final victory made us free at last. Talking Mike Schmidt. The greatest baseball player who ever lived. From Dayton, Ohio, where I lived for seven years. Not a coincidence. Don’t argue. I don’t care how you look at it.
Comments
Post a Comment