Bash Compactor: Saturday Night Football

Some things in life aren’t likely to happen, like meeting the pope, or the president, or one of the creators of arguably the most influential music genre ever. But on Saturday night at the swank-but-chill HighBar, where the Manchester City Football Club of England kicked off their U.S. preseason tour with a party, there I was with the godfather of hip-hop, Afrika Bambaataa. 

Bambaataa, along with DJ Kool Herc and Kool DJ Dee, was instrumental in laying the foundation for what is now a worldwide medium. After thanking Bambaataa for giving us, well, everything, I said I lived a few streets over from his old stomping ground in the South Bronx, the Bronx River Projects. I thought he’d reach out and hug me, at least give me some dap. Nope. But he did say that the future of hip-hop is not on mainstream radio but on satellite and Internet stations that don’t tow the commercial line with a damn-near three-song rotation to please sponsors. The future of hip-hop should return to the people, much like BBC Radio1’s DJs Giles Peterson and Fabio and Grooverider are doing in England, said one partygoer who then introduced me to Manchester City Football Club’s CEO Garry Cook.

While Bambaataa and DJ Mike Pickering were spinning, I cut the rug to “Kiss” by Prince with Rebecca Sloan of MySingleBuddy.com. Sloan wondered why more people weren’t dancing because “In England, everyone dances.” People on the terrace weren’t dancing, probably because it was hot and funky, but a few saucy guys bumped into the DJ booth and almost tipped it during “We are Family.”  Steve Bates, chief sports writer of English newspaper The People said even though there's a different focus on how sports are reported in the U.K., sports writing in the U.S. was very good.  Celebrity photographer Jonathan Mannion showed up in classic hip-hop gear—a crisp button-up, jeans and fresh white sneakers—just before Bambaataa and Pickering tag-teamed in the DJ booth until it started to rain, moving revelers indoors.

In the elevator on the way out (the only drawback of HighBar is there’s only one elevator to ferry folks from the 16th floor to the street), I rode with Pickering, a few of his associates, and a young lady. “Where are you guys from? You’re awesome,” she cooed, a little too loud and slurred.  “Manchester,” replied Pickering.  She proudly screamed, “Manchester United!” Guttural, painful, groans erupted from Pickering and his crew. Oh, little drunk American girl, Manchester United Football Club is not Manchester City Football Club; that’s like going to a Yankees game and shouting “Go Mets!” Meeting a legend doesn’t happen often; sounding like a dum-dum, way too much.