How much would you pay for a video of the goal you scored in 7th grade?

Or maybe it was the swim meet where you came in first, or the school play in middle school, or the speech you gave freshman year.

The point is that whatever it was, the chances are good that for certain categories of event (basically, any event with a decent sized crowd) footage exists somewhere out there in the world on video tape or (depending on your age) on film.

So how much would it be worth to you to have that video?  If I look back on all of the events of my life, I suspect I’d pay as much as $20 for certain events, and in aggregate several hundred dollars to get my hands on footage of the key moments in my life.

My guess is that the average American home has the equivalent of 100s of potential dollars of footage on video tapes and other media — all we need is a clearinghouse where all of those videos could be uploaded and buyers could come to review and buy.

There are 100s of reasons why something like this wouldn’t work, but just for a minute, isn’t it fun to imagine what might happen if it did work?  What event would you go look for first if you could?

2 thoughts on “How much would you pay for a video of the goal you scored in 7th grade?

  1. I would pay HUNDREDS for a video of you as the scarecrow in Duniway’s sixth grade version of The Wizard of Oz… As I remember it, your solo of “if I only had a brain” brought the house down!

  2. Football
    It was a crisp autumn eight-grade day, the scent of woodsmoke and battle in the air—and an important post-season game against our cross-town rivals…we were short a few guys that day, so this undersized offensive tackle was put on offensive special teams. Waiting in the backfield for a punt, heart rising at the off-chance the ball would come to me, I glanced over to the right sidelines and there were my parents, Dad with his hands cupped around his mouth and yelling, “Run it all the way, Dave!”

    The blood beat in my ears, as on these occasions blood is wont to do, and the field went silent. A tiny rocklike object rose from the slow-motion scrum downfield. “Holy shit, it’s actually coming to me,” I thought, biting into my mouthguard and girding myself for the impact. Maybe it’s too many screenings of “Rudy” and “Hoosiers” and “Friday Night Lights,” but I swear that the moment that football hit me in the numbers, life came back to full sound and full speed and full urgency. I took off at topt speed down the right sideline and broke one, then two, maybe more tackles…cutting out past the 50, I barreled down harder, already out of breath and rubbery-legged, not about to stop…

    I forget what happened next…If I only had the video ;)

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