Here are some stories that readers have shared, lightly edited:
“I was an undergraduate student at U.C.L.A. in the 1970s. Our home football games were played at the Coliseum in those days, instead of the Rose Bowl. I have great memories of jumping in a car with several friends and driving to the Coliseum decked out in our U.C.L.A. shirts and hats. We always sat in the student section, right on the 50-yard line, and would cheer our hearts out for our beloved Bruins.” — Wendy Sussman, Middletown, N.J.
“My father took me to my first baseball game in 1959 at the Coliseum. I was 6. Wally Moon was my favorite Dodger, and I wanted to see him hit one of his home runs, known as Moonshots, over the left field fence. (He did!) We sat up high, yet at 70 I can still remember my view of the field that glorious day.” — Debbie Duncan, Stanford
“My mother died in early 1984, after entering the ticket lottery for the opening ceremony of the Olympics that year. After she died, two tickets arrived in the mail. She had planned for us to go together. Instead, I took my teenage daughter. As the torch arrived, I felt my mother standing with us, glad for this priceless moment she had passed on.” — Elizabeth Maury, Takoma Park, Md.
“As a budding music critic for The (San Diego) Tribune in 1985, I drove to the Coliseum to cover Bruce Springsteen’s triumphant concert. The press box was filled with record execs and V.I.P.s, not my people, so I quickly made for the buffet table — with a white-coated chef and steamship round roast beef — and then seated myself next to Jose Eber. We talked about hairdressing and Farrah Fawcett until the concert started.
“Elizabeth Taylor took the seat to my left, and Michael Jackson, who had previously filled the same venue, sat on her other side. I thought to myself, whatever happens onstage, the lead to my story is locked and loaded.” — Robert J. Hawkins, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
