Flooded by memories of a Park City that no longer exists, the two self-described scoundrels negotiated the tight slalom course that of late has become Main Street under the influence of Silly Market Sundays. Longtime friends and poster children for thinning hair and misspent youth, they used the day to drink it all in literally and figuratively.
From a variety of angles, it was an archeologically-rich environment. Digging through the space-time that was Park City during the ’70s proved to be cathartic for the two old neighbors who had lived behind the old Miner’s Hospital when it reposed in its original location up near the resort. Ski-in ski-out, golf-in golf-out, 50 bucks a month! As we’ve all come to learn, karma is often an impure discipline.
Corky Foster, local icon and co-founder of the ski town’s beloved “Muckers” rugby club, blew through town this past weekend as part of a personal genealogically-driven road trip that had already taken him many thousands miles from his home on the Canadian border north of Seattle.
Including two separate stops in Hammond, Indiana to check-in with “Alamo Dave” Mueller, his longtime brother-in-arms and the other co-founder of the Muckers, Corky’s ongoing quest for some of the more obscure branches of his family tree also led him to Detroit, Chicago, northern Michigan, and the terra incognita of the Dakota badlands.
Wearing the glow of these recent discoveries in his family history, along with the evident joy of revisiting his old stomping grounds after too many years away, Corky appeared to be in his element. The mutated landscape notwithstanding, he flat-out couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.
With their first lap of Main Street getting sidetracked into the No Name Saloon for the obvious reason that it was the former location of the “Alamo,” the town’s somewhat infamous rugby hangout during the timeframe in question, it was evident that the game was afoot! And when local rugby fan and friend Jeff Packard showed up, we knew we’d lost reverse gear. Trail dust would get knocked back!
The No Name has somewhat kept the rugby faith over the years, certainly more so than any other local watering hole. And although they seem to be in decline, memorabilia of past glories still line the walls, stimulating memories of what Hemingway called “grace under pressure,” an inherent quality of Mucker-lore.
There is a school of thought, in these quarters anyway, that we non-players, we aficionados of rugby in its purest sense, we “groupies,” actually need a “rugby bar” more than those who participate in the mayhem. Foster and Mueller might not agree but keep in mind that that could well be due to them having had their heads in a few too many loose rucks.
As is most always the case in these gatherings, at some point thoughts and conversations turn to the ghosts of Park City’s rugby past. It is then that glasses are raised to the likes of Kenny Binatena, Norm Hall, Sam English, Jeff Smith, Brian Carter, and other adherents of the local rugby aesthetic who left us far too early.
Admittedly, as one for whom the rugby-fan lifestyle has so defined his tenure in Park City, it’s hard to stay humble when you find yourself doing laps on Main Street with the likes of Corky Foster. The obligation is to stay in the moment and become one with the stories and the vibe. Try as I might, however, hubris descended like a cloak. To become a rock star would have been a demotion. I was flying!
Corky always said that he was blessed to have lived in Aspen during the ’60s and Park City during the ’70s. And we, his friends and fellow rugby junkies, were the beneficiaries once he brought the concepts he honed in the upper reaches of the Roaring Fork Valley to the southern extremes of the Snyderville Basin.
It wasn’t all that long after he arrived in Park City early in 1970 that Corky was asked by local promoter Dave Novelle if he had any ideas for an event that they could bring to Park City over Labor Day (Miner’s Day) that might bring out a large segment of the population and add to the collective celebration of the holiday.
Well, Corky indeed had an idea for Dave and the subsequent exhibition rugby match not only brought out the citizenry but also emptied the bars, a pool of talent and enthusiasm from which the Park City Rugby Football Club, the Muckers, would emerge.
Somehow, they must have known in their bones the old rugger axiom that “pain heals, chicks dig scars, and glory last forever!” Thanks Corky! With you!