During mid-afternoon on game day I normally would get a ride to The Meadowlands with my sidekick Dave Katz.
When my buddy phoned to report that he was marooned at the Brooklyn Bridge, I had to think fast. First thing i did was ask my wife, Shirley, where she had parked our tiny Honda Civic Wagon.
"It's across the street in front of the bank," she said. "And for crying out loud; be careful. Call me when you get to the rink."
(I muttered to myself, "Toots, you mean IF, I get to the rink.")
At 3:15, I started the Honda on the corner of 110th Street and Broadway on Manhattan's Upper West Side. I had nobody to talk to but myself and I did that from start to finish. One thing I didn't do is kid myself.
The second I turned north on Broadway, I knew this was trouble. ("I'm lucky if I get to 125th Street," I mumbled.)
Stan's Manhattan to Meadowlands Snowplow
It was January 22, 1987 and Stan Fischler had to find a way to the Meadowlands to cover the game. Only problem? The blizzard of the century