Today's long distance request and dedication is from a boy in Alabama. It's about a girl in a peach outfit. A girl he almost met nearly twenty years ago. He writes, Dear Casey...
One summer, when I was fourteen or fifteen, I attended a celebrity softball game with my friend Archie and his parents. There were several actors, singers, and professional athletes on hand, if I recall. But for some reason, I can only remember one for certain. John Stamos.
I think Heather Locklear and the guy from Sawyer Brown may have been there, too. But I'm not sure. Why can I remember John Stamos and not Heather Locklear? Oh, right. That would be Archie's fault.
I had no idea who John Stamos was at the time. Full House either wasn't on yet or had just started. And I've never been one to catch on to a series from the beginning anyway. Even with Cheers and Seinfeld, it took me a few seasons to become a regular. But Archie knew who he was. And evidently, was quite the fan.
So even though our seats were up behind home plate, Archie drug me down the first base line at some point during the game. There, I watched him and about twenty-five girls clamor for right fielder John Stamos' autograph between innings. It seemed a little gay at the time. Even moreso now.
Fortunately, the right field stands were mostly empty, so I was able to stand back and distance myself a bit from this disturbing display. Oddly, Stamos appeared to be signing autographs for all the girls first, and the next inning started before he got around to Archie.
Empty handed, we returned to our seats. And to my other vivid memory from that fair June day. The girl in the peach outfit. Yes, peach. Remember, this was the pastel decade.
The girl in the peach outfit sat directly in front of me. And to that point in my life, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I spent the majority of the afternoon "accidentally" bumping into her with my knee. Causing her to turn around and say, "Excuse me" or "I'm sorry." Such a timeless game.
But alas, I never got any further. I guess I was shy. Plus, it's hard to pick up a chick when you can't drive and your friend's parents are sitting right next to you. And your friend spends half the game gushing over John Stamos, and the other half complaining, "Why was Stamos ignoring me?" But I'll always wonder what might have been.
When we got back home that evening, I spent the night at Archie's. We were listening to the American Top Forty Countdown when Casey Kasem did a long distance request and dedication.
I spent the rest of the night and the next day pining away endlessly. Talking about the girl in the peach outfit. Telling Archie that I thought I might love her. And that I was going to write in and dedicate a song to her. But then, I think you usually need at least a first name for that.
...So Casey, could you please play Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car, for the girl in the peach outfit. Signed, Bone. Well Bone, here's your long distance request and dedication...
That's the story of how I almost met John Stamos. And I'm still wondering why we didn't pay more attention to Heather Locklear.
"Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by..."