Long Live the Bay of Pigs

[RandBalls Stu]

Image courtesy of Jesse Spector/Bluesky

Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.

Before you were born, the Green Bay Packers and Tampa Bay Buccaneers played in the same NFL division, the NFC Central. Yes, Tampa is nowhere near the central United States, but New Orleans played in the NFC West. The Seventies were different. You could smoke literally anywhere--restaurants, hospitals, kindergarten.

During this time, these two very disparate cities shared one common trait: They were inept at football. Real stinkeroos.

The Packers were so bad they played half their home games at Milwaukee County Stadium, because there is no earthly reason to go to Green Bay, Wisconsin if the football team sucks except to push the outer limits of one's alcoholism. Is nail polish a digestif? Only one way to find out.

The Buccaneers played in creamsicle-colored uniforms* and lost every game they played in their inaugural 1976 season. Bucs head coach John McKay, when asked about his team's execution, said he'd be in favor of it**.

*These uniforms are actually incredible, but if your airline keeps flying planes into mountains, your cool logo kinda pops in the wreckage.

**NFL head coaches used to be interesting.

In fact, the franchises were so wretched, ESPN's late, great Pete Axthelm referred to their twice-yearly matchups as The Bay of Pigs. The games usually lived down to the honor.

Time, being a butthole, marched on. Green Bay got consecutive Hall of Fame quarterbacks with dust bunnies where their souls should've been. Tampa moved to the NFC Southeast, their defense getting better as their uniforms got worse. Both teams won a couple Super Bowls. Milwaukee County Stadium got torn down. Pete Axthelm died.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half decades, the Bay of Pigs passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it gave us a World Series.

I am absolutely delighted by the Milwaukee Brewers/Tampa Bay Devil Rays matchup (they'll always be the Devil Rays, do not correct me on this). The former have a stacked lineup and an ace who looks like they turned a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man into a real boy who can throw 105mph.

The latter play in an absolute dump, spend $45 on payroll, and win 91 games every year. Perhaps most importantly, the Los Angeles Dodgers, New York Yankees, and Boston Red Sox are watching from home.

But some of us, who remember the Time Before, hear "Tampa Bay heads north to Milwaukee" and thrill to a time, long since forgotten but younger than yesterday, when those words meant a 12-9 rock fight on the cold County Stadium dirt. No touchdowns. Four Chester Marcol field goals. Frozen vomit on metal bleachers.

My prediction: Brewers in 7, and the MVP gets a free membership to Gorman Thomas's 8-track club.

Long live The Bay of Pigs.

 

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[Parfigliano]

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