Westy, through eyes blurred by his favorite beverage, Beefeaters’ Gimlets, had nearly holed a long green-side bunker shot on the tough 18th at Olympic Hills Country Club, a track known for the big money games, to win all the presses and most of the bets. We had spent the last two hours replaying our round at a favorite watering hole, The La Cantina, famous for their happy hour and delicious hors-de-vours. La Cantina, located along the legendary “494 Strip” in Bloomington is near the old “Met”, Metropolitan Stadium where Minnesota’s Vikings and Twins played in the elements and on real grass. “The Strip” was known in those days for a progression of remarkable bars, nightclubs and disco joints that attracted all the athletes and pretty people in the Twin Cities and the want to-bees and groupies who followed them around.

As were standing at the well lite curb near the entrance of The La Cantina people watching with many other satisfied happy hour patrons, waiting for the valet to fetch our cars, a huge British made automobile, a beautiful Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow, sparkled in the bright entry way light, pulled up to the curb. The two different shades of the subtle silver Roller stopped, blocking the cross walk that ran from the curb in front of the nightclub to the vast parking lot. Chuck Foreman, the cocky all-pro running back for our beloved purple gang slammed his gleaming Roller into park and hopped out. Foreman, with a huge teeth grin on his face and dressed in the disco era, flashy leisure suite and print silk shirt with patent leather shoes to match, made a big deal of locking the door and slowly sauntered up the walk toward the double door entrance.

Westy, with a few more Beefeaters under his belt, and a crowd of in-awe Viking fans to show-off for, hollered at the famous number 44, “Hey Foreman, four years from now you will still be driving that Rolls, but I’ll be in the back seat.” Foreman turned his eyes searching the crowd for which of his admiring fans had recognized him, for the king that he was and made a comment that, he at first, did not comprehend. When the pretty people, groupies and want-to-bees started to snicker, Foreman got it! The cockiness and smile left his face; he lowered his eyes to the sidewalk and quickly entered his second playing field searching a more appreciative audience.

The even more blurry-eyed Westy just nodded his head and smiled in self-admiring approval!