As a 12 year old in 1967, I stayed awake late to listen to Anaheim Amigos games on the radio.
I never forgot big Larry Bunce, the towering center that never could quite get down the court fast enough (but still gave Artis Gilmore a few good games); Ben Warley, the power forward in the clutch;and little Les Selvage, who would come off the bench in the fourth quarter and launch three-pointers.
I even talked my parents into taking me to a few games, and I brought home little orange basketballs with gaucho hats attached to them.
Now I'm 32 and play in a 6-foot 4-inch and under basketball league in Anaheim. Though writer Steve Lowery thinks nobody remembers the Amigos, there is still the legend: When an Anaheim team is down by 20 points in the fourth quarter and guards are launching desperation shots from beyond the three-point line, players swear they can see the regulation NBA basketball turn from orange to red, white and blue as it sails through the air and comes down, something like a gaucho hat falling from the sky.