That's when sport was sport. And groovin' was groovin'.
lilsnapper, the font of all information, mentioned earlier that my legendary college chem lab professor, "doc oc", had (a) gotten fat and (b) croaked. i vaguely remember hearing this someplace else (some alumni 'zine p'raps) but it din't register. i have to remember to tell my mom that he died because she tossed an unholy fit when i told her what i considered an amusing story about the dude asking me how to fix a snag in his pants during chem lab. his exact words were something like "you are a woman, you sew, right? so how do you fix a snahg in zee coat?" wonder of wonders this was in my basic skill set passed on by mommy along with sewing on buttons and stopping pantyhose runs with nail polish, so i told him, but actually it wasn't his coat he wanted to fix, it was his dorky poly-blend early-80s disco dan pants, which he proceeded to take off in zee lahb, NOT IN FRONT OF ME, but i didn't get out the "not in front of me" before mom flipped her wig. don't worry mommy, none of my profs ever hit on me, let's just say i wasn't the hittable type (plus i usually looked like a cross between fran drescher as the nanny and dog poop on toast). she'll prolly say good riddance anyway. uhm i was just damn glad to get out of chemistry lab because while there are probably less interesting things to do in life than test the purity of aspirin to four decimal places, i can't think of any right now and i personally would rather characterize bat guano.
there needs to be a screenplay called "doc oc, fashion victim"