As I sat down to watch the 49ers preseason game tonight I suddenly flashed on where I was 46 years and 1 day ago. It was seeing the fog and cold at Candlestick Park that brought it back. It's one of those days that you remember, even if the memory is broken like shards of glass. Images, moments flash back as if I'm watching clips from some movie.
I was sitting in Candlestick Park wearing black shoes, black tights, a red and black jumper with a black turtleneck. Oh, and I had a pair of binoculars around my neck. I was with my friend who had told me I'd better not scream. No screaming was allowed. I promised I wouldn't, and I didn't. This is not to say that all around me there weren't screamers and fainters and hypervenitlators. But I stood on my seat stoic...well, almost stoic. I giggled a lot and sighed and didn't want the 20 or so minutes to end. And the girl in the seat in front of me kept grabbing my binoculars to see the band better, and George's white socks, and she never bothered to ask if it was okay. My head was still attached so I'm lucky I didn't end up with whiplash that night.
And then it was over. The Brinks truck pulled up to the stage, the band got into the truck, and it left. It was gone, off the field in an instance. My folks, waiting for us in their car in the parking lot, saw the Brinks truck zoom by. They had no idea why there was a Brinks truck. When my friend and I were safely back in the car on our way home we told my folks about the truck. My mother said, "It drove right by us." Okay, then my friend and I started to squeal.
Yup, 46 years and 1 day ago it was cold and foggy at Candlestick Park.