Fastball "Make Your Mama Proud"

What's the name of that popular "Black Ops" video game? * (answer at the bottom of the post)

My housemate Mandy and I used to play this game.

We'd spend hours and hours trying to trick each other, casually working questions into conversation. Questions like: "What was the name of that marionette that Buffalo Bob had?"

If I was sneaky and subtle enough, she'd slip up and say, "Howdy Doody."

And I'd gloat, "YOU SAID DOODY!" (as is, poop)

Juvenile, I know. But we would go to great lengths to trick the other into saying the word.

"What's the shop at the airport where you don't pay tax?"

"He got called up to the Army for another, uh, Tour Of, uh . . ."

"What's the light on the top of that Taxi say?"

Right around that time, Fastball had their first record out, with the punk-pop ditty called "Make Your Mama Proud," which contains the line:

Now you're pushing 31/Duty calls you cut and run.

We'd sing along, and every time it hit that line, Mandy and I would scream "DOODY!!!!!!"

How psyched were we that we were seeing them in concert, and would hear the word "Doody" blasted through Amphitheater stacks?

We got a good position in front of the stage just as Fastball's set started. And we waited. And waited. And waited.

Maybe they'll do it for an encore . . .

And waited.

And then it was over.

No "Make Your Mama Proud." No "Doody."

We were pissed!

All the way out to the parking lot, we complained. How could they not play that song?!

But as I pulled the Toyota out into traffic, I popped the Fastball CD into the car player, put on "Make Your Mama Proud," rolled down my window and turned the stereo up to full volume.

At the top of my lungs I sang, "Now you're pushing 31/DOODY calls you cut and run."

Mandy rolled down her windows too, letting the music spill out into the cool North Carolina night.

And when the song ended, I hit "Repeat."

We sang again. LOUDER.

"NOW YOUR PUSHING 31/DOODY CALLS YOU CUT AND RUN."

And when it was over, repeat again.

And again.

And again.

We probably sang it a dozen times in a row.

I should point out that Mandy and I weren't the only ones in the car. Fortunately, we were gently tolerated.

That show was one of the few concerts I'd ever been to, where the most memorable song of the night was the one the band didn't play.

To this day, I still don't know why they skipped it. It was the album's single. It was probably their most familiar song at the time. Fans were expecting to hear it.

You'd think they would have had to play it out of a sense of, you know . . . not obligation, but . . . a sense of . . . what's that word? *



* You said "Doody!"