Indians…but not the Kind From Cleveland
This past weekend left me a little shaken. Over the course of a single evening, I heard four different Village People songs. The most disturbing aspect of these events, beyond the fact that the Village People are still being played outside of weddings, is that I had completely forgotten about their existence and didn’t realize until that night some of the songs that belonged to them. In the Navy? Go West? And more than that, how is it possible that people missed the ****-erotic overtones well into the 80’s?
It got me to thinking.
What else have we completely missed?
I mean, we willfully ignored the steroid era in baseball until it was no longer possible to suspend disbelief. Jeff still refuses to admit that the Tigers would have won the Series in 2006 if it wasn’t for those errors by the pitchers.
Sometimes those moments of delayed recognition are fun. Like when a name pops up on the screen during a baseball game and it’s a guy whose baseball card I owned when I was younger. Sure, he never made it big, but he’s still toiling in the majors. Or when you see Miguel Cabrera in a Tiger uniform for the first time and it takes you a second to realize who he is and that he’s on your team now.
Most of the time the moments aren’t quite so idyllic, though. Curtis Granderson in a Yankee hat. A guy who should have retired a couple seasons earlier still out there hacking at balls he can no longer hit. That’s a little closer to how I felt at the end of the night when YMCA started to play and I realized it was time to go.