At least that was the snappy saying we used to have when I was in high school. It was multi purpose.
Someone: “Man, I was way too close to the speakers at last night’s concert. I think I may be deaf” Someone else: “That’s a small price to pay for rock n roll.” Someone: “Huh?”
Or even “I was so hungry that I ate three McRibs.” “That’s a small price to pay for rock n roll.
In one instance it makes sense, and the other it doesn’t. Ok, neither one does, but we’re heading somewhere with this. The crazy thing was how cool we thought we were. Two years previous in Junior High it would have made us bad. Afterwards it would have meant we were awesome, tubular (I know), rad, down, and well…..now cool. I guess.
But what are you laughing to yourself about? You know as well as I do that a quick look at your yearbook, family pictures, or worst yet, family movies could dig up fros, mullets, skinny ties, leisure suits, white capezio dance shoes, salt and pepper goatees and sailboat shirts. Wait…how did we get back to me?
Last week the Stones played a concert in Fenway while the Sox were away (I believe while they were playing America’s Team). Believe it or not, having thousands of footsteps digging into the turf in a party atmosphere does not have the same effect as Miracle Gro does. Amazing.
The Sox had to move their next scheduled game back and brought sod in at 4 am, worked all night and finished at 1 pm the following day.
Guess what? The Strolling Bones did it again. They tore up U Conn’s Rentschler Field right before their home opener this week.
So now that I’m old enough to not be close to cool, I’d still agree that it’s a small price to pay for rock n roll.
Unless your concert revenue is eaten up by the cost of labor and sod. Or if you can’t get the smell of Metamucil out of your clubhouse. Or in the case of The Sox, one of your World Series Champion team players wrenched their ankle in the new laid carpet of sod.