In the 1960s, when I was but a lad, my pops was a member of the Los Angeles Athletic Club. The Club was old school personified, having been established in 1880 and occupying its spot on Seventh Street downtown for almost 100 years. Members of the LAAC have won ninety-seven Olympic medals, so while it had the appearance of a fairly exclusive men’s club, it was actually a badass sports club. Anyway, sometimes when my dad worked out he’d bring along me and my brother, and while he was working out, we’d ride the elevators and explore the Club, often ending up on the roof.
Contaminating Racket Sports The Way The Real Thing Contaminates A Sandwich
