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  • Bill Chastain

Adult Night

"Adult Night" is the promotion I’ve always wanted to see held at a major-league game.


Think about the possibilities. All games would begin at 9:30 or so. Happy Hour would take place prior to the start of the game. Hi-balls would be sold at concession stands. Pari-mutuels would be ongoing via the scoreboard–including off-track wagering. No children allowed. And the foul poles? Well, use your imagination.

Gainesville (Ga.) High School has a great nickname, the "Red Elephants." Herding around the team mascot must be a chore, but it is a unique name.


I used to think being a urine inspector (for lack of any better title) was the worst job. Urine inspectors accompany major league players to the toilet stalls to watch them give their sample. Now, based on events of this week, I believe being a vote counter during a presidential election is the worst.


Gaylord Perry and the spitball were synonymous. Former Braves catcher Bruce Benedict caught Perry on many occasions and likened throwing the ball back to Perry to throwing a bar of soap.

Former NFL great Marvin Harrison captured the essence of professional sports when he once noted: “I play for free. They pay me to practice.”


I’ve got a lot of stories from years of working construction.  Many involve the Taylor twins, Jessie James and Jessie Gene, who finished concrete for Norman Chastain Construction, Inc.  According to Jessie Gene, the twins once worked on a job that ran for 24-hours, seven days a week for several  months. Even though Jessie James worked one shift, and Jessie James worked the other, their boss did not know he had twins working for him. Thus, the checks were made out to Jessie Gene–complete with countless hours of overtime.  The brothers split the dough and enjoyed a laugh at the expense of The Man.

Speaking of concrete... There was a time when I worked as a salesman for Florida Mining, albeit, a lousy one. I couldn't have sold dollar bills for a quarter. But that's beside the point. I've always been drawn to a concrete pour. I'll stop and watch if I see one. Recently, while out walking, I stopped to watch one on the Georgia Tech campus. I asked the driver of one of the waiting ready mix trucks how much they charged for a yard of concrete these days. The price he told me was approximately $100 a yard more than when I sold concrete. That one surprised me.


Finally, I feel lucky to have experienced my high school and college years in the ’70s. I did all kinds of stupid shit, yet my slate remained clean because iPhones, Facebook, texting and the Internet did not exist. Said advances have changed the world for the better, and the worse.

That sentiment came to mind when I read the following card on the Internet: “If The Breakfast Club took place today, all those kids would just be silently texting about their shitty Saturday and never make friends with each other.”


I invite you to hang out with me on my site at billchastain.com and read more of my blogs. You can also download FREE chapters from some of my fiction books: Peachtree Corvette Club, The Streak and Retrouvailles. Drop me a line at Asked and Answered. Let's talk about feel-good stories, fun facts, movies, food and, of course, two of my very favorite topics: sports and books. Whatever is on your mind.




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©2020 by Bill Chastain. Photo credits: Jill Doty Photography