When She Was 17, I Had A Very Good Year

Greetings, sportsfans! Bumpers here. So it’s prom night in Pewaukee. That’s in Wisconsin for those of you that don’t know. Just outside of Milwaukee. What’s the prom theme this year? Packer tight ends. If you were a gal coming of age on the biggest night of your young life, and you found yourself in a hot tub with a man named Chewy, what would you do?

Folks, take it from me. It ain’t easy when everybody wants a piece of you. I remember back in ’62 when I was on the tail end of a grueling midwest tour. I was in Minnesota doing a fundraiser for Hubert H. Humphrey. So I was doing my act, and the whole time there’s a little filly in the front row giving me a look that said, "I want to rub your arms, Showman."

After the show, I was in my dressing room enjoying my usual post-show Dagwood sandwich when I heard a gentle rapping on my chamber door. I wrapped a robe around my naked body and went to see who it was. Wouldn’t you know it? It was that little filly from the front row. The stars aligned and so did our eyes, so we decided to go for a drive in my brand new Caddy.

I awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and the steering wheel in my hands. Lying next to me was the gal from the night before, looking younger than ever in the morning sunlight. I had a bad taste in my mouth, so I rooted through her purse looking for some spearmint gum. I didn’t find any Wrigley’s, but I did find her identification. As it turns out, my new friend was only 17! The Showman had a spot of trouble on his hands.

Well, the next thing I know, there’s a fierce pounding on my door. I wrapped a robe around my naked body and went to see who it was. Bad news, sportfans. It was John Law himself. Thinking quickly, I told the officers that she never told me her age, and if she was 17, she was 17 going on 25, wink wink.

The officer explained that the law in Minnesota was "16 and a day, she’s okay". But that wasn’t why he was here. He wanted to know why there was a Cadillac with no steering wheel wrapped around the oak tree in my front yard. I told him it was probably just some teenagers out joyriding last night. He had no idea how right I was. They thanked me for my time, asked for a few autographs and got back to their beat. People, I’ve never been happier to see my tax dollars at work.

All I’m trying to say folks, is that I know where Marty Chmura’s coming from. When you’re in the limelight, everybody wants a piece of you. And when you’ve downed a few cocktails, well, all bets are off.

I’m winkin’ at ya and thinkin’ of ya.
The Showman