NORTH SHORE — As Darryl McCloskey “waters the plants” in a semi-concealed patch of greenery on the North Shore, he wears alongside his James Connor jersey a face of mourning to mark the loss of a loved one.
It isn’t a distant aunt, ailing grandparent, or a member of his graduating class, however. It’s a urinal.
“It just ain’t right,” he mutters, tossing a beer can next to the recently formed puddle. “It’s like not celebrating the Fourth of July or having a defense that don’t get sacks.”
Restriction on events like NFL games have led some local bars and restaurants to remain closed, including the popular Clark Bar and Grill. For the McCloskeys, that means suffering not only the disappointment of saving $300 earmarked for tall boys inside the stadium, but also the abrupt end to a long-standing tradition.
These honest, hard-working tailgaters had to find somewhere else to piss for free.
“There are four generations of wayward McCloskey urine soaked into that floor,” said Darryl, 45. “You’d see that river pooled underneath the urinals and realize you were part of something bigger, grander. And you barely had to wait in line, which was great.”
McCloskey found the timing especially hard to bear.
“My son Carl was going to go on his first solo piss this year. Got him a shiny new fake I.D. for his 17th birthday and everything. He was busting his ass all summer, too, tightening his route from the bar to the bathroom after telling the guy at the door he wanted some shots. All for nothing.”
“We tried it at McFadden’s,” he continued, “but it just wasn’t the same: doesn’t have that intimacy and comradery you get from marching into the Clark bar for the sixth time, insistent that this time around you’re going to order an appetizer.”
One thing is for sure: if the chance to renew the tradition emerges, he won’t pass it up.
“You bet your ass the second I can, I’ll return to that glorious bathroom and leave my mark,” he said. Hell, I’ll be so damned excited, this time I might even flush.”
