Ah yes Art, winters may have been cold in old Chicago, but I remember the great freeze-up of '61 in Montreal. My friends Jaques, Pierre, Jean-Luc, and I headed off to the local stables to harvest a few of them frozen "horse balls". Well there was lots of quadruped fecal material all over the stable floor but those damn horses just weren't ready to part with their balls at that moment.(guess it wasn't cold enough) Well as we pondered what to do, Jean-Luc picked up a road apple and took a solid bite from it..."ummmm, by gar, dat shure taste good, tabernac!" "No shit", says I, practicing a slap shop with my "Boom Boom" Geffrion autographed stick. At that very moment we were startled to see one of our most exalted heroes, "Rocket Richard" stepping out from behind one of the horses. "Allo, dere, little 'ockey players", he greeted us and promptly tossed 5 small black rubber discs at us. They were the "real thing"! No longer would we have to risk life and limb by separating horses (les chevals, je pense) from their balls, just to feel like true Canadians. "Now get the puck outta here" cried our hero, and we were gone.

Actually, I was a lousy skater, played very little hockey, and was totally obsessed with baseball by the time I was nine. I dedicated my last album to Jim Bouton, so the obsession is still there. (got to meet him as well.)
rick