When you’re a young kid, there are a million things you think are cool. You’re into whatever the fad of the week is. If you’re a child of the late ‘80s you fell in love with Alf, Pong, parachute pants and maybe even New Kids on the Block. That is if you had really poor taste. It’s rare that any of these infatuations stick with you for a lifetime, though.
For me, only two of my late ‘80s obsessions lasted into adulthood. One is the Phoenix Suns — which as you can tell, also became my profession — and the other is a love for Bruce Springsteen music. The latter was thanks to a father who would drop the needle of the record player (the precursor to the CD player and distant cousin to the iPod for you youngins) on one of the Boss’ many brilliant works of art every free moment we had in the house on a weekend.
There have been very few times in life that the two have crossed paths. That was until the other night while watching Luis Scola play. [Read more...]