Top Gun and Pyscho aside, never have locker and shower rooms been at the center of such mind-bending drama than that of our very own Penn State. First, a collective gasp was heard ’round the world last week once Coach McQueary delivered his “skin-on-skin slapping” testimony regarding Coach Sandusky during a preliminary hearing against Penn State officials.
And you thought Anthony Perkins was creepy and malevolent.
Then, just this past weekend, word got out that Penn State’s starting quarterback Matt McGloin – who hails from our very own West Side – was hospitalized with a head injury after a locker room scuffle with wide receiver Curtis Drake in a scene reminiscent of the fiery Maverick and Iceman.
The former wingmen apparently had a disagreement about what practice plays were called when they erupted into violence.
Sadly, the once mighty Penn State brand is coming apart at the seams and nowhere has it been more prevalent, perhaps, than this year’s treks to the outlet malls. T.J. Maxx, Kohl’s and even The Salvation Army are all selling deeply discounted Penn State gear in the form of sweatshirts, running pants, team jackets and more.
And for those who may have actually wanted a particular form of Penn State gear, PSU officials announced that the university will no longer license the name, likeness or image of legendary coach Joe Paterno. Retailers are allowed to sell Penn State-Paterno gear until they run out and manufacturers have two months to get rid of similar product.
Still, even with a limited inventory and deeply (and I do mean deeply) discounted prices, stores aren’t moving Penn State items off the shelves at all with charities even refusing to accept the tainted apparel in the form of donations.
It’s bad when you can’t even give the stuff away.
On a lighter note, I was giving out good vibrations at McGrath’s Pub up Dalton way last weekend as vintage rockers Mr. Echo brought down the proverbial house. Made up of former members of M-80, The Reigning Toads and Lesson One, the boys and the band – Bob Lewis, Jaconda Cortazzo, Rob Burns and Matt Mang – had the joint jumpin’ with dance floor crowded the whole night long.
Yours truly managed to Texas two-step with the best of them, including the illustrious Trish Heil – who formerly reigned supreme as the doyenne of Dunmore Heil’s Place and now rules the fountain of youth roost with her fabu botanical skin care line – as well as the Waverly Deli’s delicious dish Mari Byron and her fabulous neighbors Kate Cole and Val and Jerry Calpin. The gaggle of gregarious guy and gal pals practically wore out the dance floor, moi self included, dancing and whooping it up the whole night long to the likes of the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, The Who and David Bowie. To the band Mr. Echo, I’d like to issue a resounding “Thank you, thank you,” for providing a kick of a good time. My toes are already tapping in anticipation of your next show.
Of course, my toes, hands and various other appendages are also tapping in anticipation of a visit from Santa this Saturday, even though I’ve been more than naughty on a pretty regular basis. To my readers: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa and a Fabulous Festivus to you all.
Here’s hoping I get to kiss a plethora of fruitcakes under my merry mistletoe.
