In a bathroom at Umass, all the stalls are full. And there is a line. This is back in the days when a horde of semi-hippie, semi-jock, entirely un-waivered dudes would descend on a place like Umass and so befoul–with grass and mud and sweat–an otherwise perfectly decent bathroom in a normally fine public institution, that the actual befouling for which the room was designed seemed almost a relief, even when waiting for a stall to do some befouling in.
These were also the days when Danny Weiss was a star. He threw old school. No one throws with hands or arms wrapped around the disc anymore, and probably they shouldn’t. But Danny’s move from West to East precipitated NYC”s run of titles. (Though this was the Spot year.) When he packed up his arm and his quarterbacking skills and left the left coast (no one called it that then), it caused a semi-seismic event in the Ultimate world.
Anyway, stars don’t wait for the crapper. Walking in and assessing the situation, Weiss banged on the wall and let the slow dumpers have it:
Hey you guys! Quit doggin’ it!
. . . Flush . . . Flush, Flush. Three stalls suddenly free, Danny is offered first place in the loosening queue.
And that guys in the Ultimate Hall of Fame now.