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Ah, the Awards Banquet, an institution with a long and storied
history and one that is still rolling along today in 2012. For the first 9 years
of over-the-line and pie-wedged softball games we had no Awards Banquet. Then,
in 1969 some genius came up with the idea of putting together a ballot where we
could vote for our MVP, Golden Glove, Chip Colors of the Year, etc while chowing
down on pizza and suds on closing night at Giuseppes. It was all for laughs,
pretty tame and no big deal as only 11 showed up. The next year, however, was
a whole different story. Double the inaugural turnout made it to Giuseppe’s
that night and here’s what happened.
Twenty two of the league’s best belted down enough brew to empty
Bob’s tapper and summon 4 cars of Glendale police to the north Verdugo Road pizza parlor.
Drinking and voting for awards and then the anti-awards consumed the evening which
ended abruptly about 40 minutes early when management decide to clear the hall.
The drunken roar, the chug-a-lug contest, the bread sticks and pizza mashed into
the rug, and the stripped to the waist NSAAers finally wore a little thin.
Nobody knows who called the cops, but when they arrived the party was over.
Miraculously nobody was arrested but instead were told to “call a ride” home.
Unfortunately, few took that advice but instead drove their way down to Niki’s
Bar in south Glendale to further toast the season.
In 1971 we lost our field due to Glendale College’s grass
restoration fiasco and the season was cut off at the knees. But no problemo,
as the Creeper stepped in and steered our participation in a weekend bar league.
We got sponsored by Niki’s Bar down on Colorado and put together
a pretty good team. But when the season ended, instead of toasting it at
our sponsor’s place (he was too cheap) we ended up at a place up in Montrose
named The Top Hat on our own dime. We laid down a lump sum, then started
drinking it off. About half way thru the bartender flipped the billiard beads back
to zero and we just flat drank til we couldn’t drink anymore. It pretty well
ended when Jack W passed out into a plate of potato salad causing the barmaid
to exclaim, “I think your friend is dead.” Yes, another NSAA Alcohol Disaster
with some tough hangovers all around.
After the last two years we learned two things. One, season
ending parties seemed like a good idea but (2) we could no longer hold them in a
public place. Bob, the owner at Giuseppe’s offered a free keg of beer for the next one on the
condition we went someplace else to drink it. So in 1972 Mr. Potato Head himself
foolishly volunteered to privately host Banquet #4 INSIDE his house up on The Midway.
Bill F wrote up what transpired.
It all started peaceful enough at 8:00 o’clock when most of
the guests straggled in but it didn’t take long for them to get into the swing of things.
Soon the beer keg was feeling the wrath of some world-class drinkers and it seemed
like a good time to get the balloting going. Afterwards, with Jack and the Commissioner
in the back bedroom tallying votes, I started my master-of-ceremonies routine,
but that turned out futile as beer throwing and loud insults reached proportions
similar to a year earlier at Giuseppe’s. Unfortunately, free flowing beer, pink
and purple paper streamers hung from the ceiling and light-colored wall-to-wall
carpeting are not a good combination when hosting a bunch of wild man drunks.
Later, while exiting I surveyed the scene and realized we had just cut the life
expectancy of Jack’s carpet from 10 years down to 10 hours. Sure enough the next
day Jack called Boomer to help him haul all of it to the dump.
After that, nobody knew what to expect, but things actually got worse.
After a relatively calm year (1973) over in Boomer’s back yard in Glendale, RC Combs offered
to host Banquet #6 in a small, earthquake condemned house on his rental lot in La Crescenta. Knowing that
the house was destined for the bulldozer, an odd and sinister buzz seemed to envelope the
crowd. And looking back, that night has to be considered the absolute low point in Banquet
history. As the newsletter reported:
Next came Bill F with the awards presentation but it was apparent that the
Master of Ceremonies had correctly sensed the uneasiness in the throng. He quickly and
unceremoniously handed out the trophies in an apparent attempt to escape the area before
something bad happened. And happen it did. The air got to 100% beer humidity and peanuts
began moving like Nolan Ryan fastballs. Then came shattering beer glasses followed by
airborne Coke and beer quarts. Leveler heads moved outside then as the heavy duty wrecking
crew got into gear. Almost all the windows were smashed out, then the picnic tables were
flipped over and the chairs and benches became battering rams in a grim effort to level the
premises. Walls were punched thru with fists, doors ripped off their hinges and a 7-Up
bottle put the lights out on Sam Panfill’s masterpiece NSAA sign. A long time vet normally
known for his perennial cool summed it up with, “I gotta wreck something important.”
By 3:00am (what the hell happened to the cops?) it was over and what was left would not
compare favorably to Hiroshima in 1945.
By 1975 we were having fun with the balloting but it was obvious the
parties would have to be cleaned up big time. Really? Wrecking a house? What would be next?
We soon found out when Dave’s decided to put his house, garage and yard on the line for Banquet #7.
Surprisingly, things turned for the better as the newsletter reported.
Everything was beautiful. The beer tapper finally worked right, Eddie
didn’t perform, there were no hack-kneed stag films, the house was not destroyed and we had
a pool table, which seemed to be the most popular single item ever introduced to one of these
parties. Beer, grass and booze polluted most guests early and for the duration.
Dave’s party went great and that seemed to quell the fears of Don Smiley
who then volunteered to host the 1976 bash. This party was certainly memorable but not
for the reasons you’d think. It seems Smiley had invited several other non-softball
“buddies” to the party who proceeded to put on a display in the pool the likes of which
most of our young virgins had only seen in porno flicks. It was “bizarre” to put a
positive spin on it, but it didn’t wreck the party by any means as the newsletter noted:
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In quiet fashion, the 7th annual NSAA Awards Banquet was presented at
the poolside, mountain retreat of Don Smiley. The evening was completely without the
rowdiness, beer throwing and destruction that had marred earlier ones. About the only
unfortunate happenings were the Creeper falling inside and then being cast in the goddamn
port-a-shitter, and an x-rated water ballet performed in the pool by a couple of non-NSAAers.
(Not that there is anything wrong with that.)
Starting in 1977 Dave took in the former gypsy caravan for the next seven years.
All were incredibly successful parties as a bevy of new twists were introduced that seemed
to enjoy great popularity. Even though all of Dave’s parties were great for us, Dar was ready for a
change when Billy D stepped up to host Banquets #15 thru #18. Not surprisingly, the “frat
house” style of parties continued to cycle-down by the time we got to 1987. The newsletter
detailed what was happening in the 1986 edition:
“What’s going on here, these parties have REALLY mellowed out”, surmised more
than one NSAAer. The answer is, of course, old age or some derivative thereof. As Strings
points out, “Most guys gave up those kinds of parties when they graduated college.” True enough
and with some exceptions, our older guys just can’t drink or blow smoke like they used to.
And another thing, originally the trophies were tongue-in-cheekers (like a rubber monkey
mounted on a beer can) but not any more. They’ve become the serious main attraction now.
Other highlights included the pool table and the emergence of talented chefs Joe Bell
and Tim A. They switched us from dogs and burgers to K-bobs with artichoke hearts.
It was a gastronomic revolution right there in Sunland.
The winds of change were blowing again by 1988. And lucky for us, we still
had guys willing to volunteer to host these things. This time it was Big Dave and Joe Bell.
Between the two of them they co-hosted 6 of the next 7, (with Jack Poet sneaking in for one
in 1993) two at Joe’s and four at Big Dave’s. After three big and highly spirited ones, all
with excellent food at Dave’s real nice Glenoaks Canyon mansion, his last one in 1994
entertained a paltry 14 guys and was described thusly: Its really a shame that only a dozen or so guys could find a way to drop
in and enjoy the fruits of Dave’s, Joe’s and Bruce’s efforts. But the sad fact about the
Awards Banquet these days is it’s dying a slow death. We know from basketball and flag
football attendance, when the boys are done with something, they’re done. Put a fork in ‘em.
But this bash was beautifully produced, featuring hot dogs, hamburgers and plenty of beer
which was enjoyed by all. The trophies too, were possibly the best ever and the ballot
tallying lively. It was over early, though, a far cry from those incredible bashes of yesteryear.
“ I was home and in bed by 11:00pm”, stated Bruce.
It was obviously time to pack these banquets in as a thing that had run
its course or do something radically different. This is when Bruce stepped in and suggested
moving the party onto the Del Mar junket. This idea drew a mixed reaction but this is what
we did. For the next 9 years (1995 thru 2004, none in '01) the party came off on Saturday night on the
patio of the Del Mar motel (7of them) or poolside at the Days Inn (2 of them) up the road in Encinitas.
The 1995 edition was reported like this: What kind of price would you need to bet that Ronnie Combs, the Creeper,
the Commissioner, Boomer, Tom Waz, Bill Doo, Junior Boothe and the Brain would all make the
1995 Banquet? Aliens landing in center field at the World Series would be shorter. How?
Credit the cunningness of Lt. Commissioner Bruce Morrison. He figured that since so few guys
were showing up at the Glendale banquets he’d simply move the affair to Del Mar on the Junket.
Presto, 22 captive goons on hand, including all of the above, many of whom we haven’t been
seen at this party in this decade or the last. Tricky, yes, but successful? I’m not so sure.
At the old parties, guys could cut loose and have fun with the gag trophies but it’s all serious
business now and in front of 2 dozen mostly sober guys and with a handful of bewildered motel guests
looking on, it seemed more than a little awkward. But maybe it’s just me, your humble correspondent.
All nine of these Awards Banquets were similar, with about 25 guys on hand,
and in the historical pictures of them, you can’t tell one from another. Until 2004 that is,
when only 8 junketeers made the trip south. It seemed many of the original NSAAers had “hung
‘em up” by then and the roster was turning over in earnest. And an appreciation for horse
racing just did not burn in the loins of the new guys. Hence, the junket, which would be
totally dead just 3 years later, more or less pulled the Awards Banquet down with it.
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Still from Channel 7 Eyewitness news......can you see the SWAT team swarming the place?
Before the destruction: L to R, top row: Kimba, Ben W, Unk, Unk, Jimmy, Ed Colson. Bottom row: Ross
Bradley, Dave, Terry H, Ronnie and Eddie.
Some son-of-a-bitch popped a half full quart 7-Up bottle right thru the middle of Sam's fabulous sign.
Everybody liked the addition of the pool table even tho cue space was restricted for the "8-ball side pocket" shot.
Don Smiley invited some strange dudes to the 1976 pool party.
For two skinny guys, Bif and Billy D were never too far from the grub table.
Alan Hedges was White Chip and Hustle at Billy D's 1984 Banquet in Sunland.
Big Dave's Glenoaks Canyon property was in one beautiful location for a Banquet.
Nine years of Del Mar Awards Banquets tend to meld into a memory blur.