Story Time …Chapter 6 To my grandfather and those of his generation, the game of baseball was more than a game, it was almost a religion. It was the glue that held not only the country together during wars and depression but also defined a man in rural America for the remainder of his years. For example, in the first few months of my transition from California to rural Kansas whenever I would ask my grandfather about a local storekeeper or farmer or any person of his generation, the first and foremost information about the person was his baseball skills, “He was a hell of a shortstop”, “He played first base for us in 32’”, “He was a catcher and he was as lazy then as he is now!” And so, with this fervor of the game comes a little story I like to call “The day Terry got KICKED out of baseball” It was October of 69’ and I was experiencing my first fall harvest season in farm country. The days were growing shorter, the smell of corn being harvested and trucked to the local elevator, the size of the moon at night, everything was new and I was absorbing all these sights and sounds and smells like a sponge. Judd “Good pitcher, hell of a curve ball” was my grandfather’s best friend growing up and not only did he farm but he also raised vegetables and watermelons and had a little market at his home in town and since I was always over there hanging out with his grandsons anyway, I was allowed to pick melons and cucumbers and squash for what he called “Experience so valuable, you should be paying me! Those damn hippies in California don’t know what work is!” The market opened as soon as tomatoes ripened and stayed open until the first killing frost, usually around the 1st of November. The market was open all week with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days with people coming and going steadily from late morning till about mid-afternoon. One particular Sunday, October 12, 1969 to be exact, had Mike and Terry (grandsons) and myself being sent to the farm to pick various vegetables to last the day at the market. With this chore being completed and after eating dinner we made our way inside Judd’s house where he was just sitting down to watch the second game of the World Series. We were only 14 and 15 years old but we knew how important this series was to baseball guys, I mean think about it, Tom Seaver and the Mets going against Brooks Robinson and the Orioles, how could it get any better? The living room of the house was long and narrow so the furniture was arranged kind of randomly with the TV located at one end and two recliners situated against one long wall and a sofa directly across from them along the other long wall. There was a second sofa at the very end of the room at a right angle to the first sofa and you actually had the best view of the TV from here albeit rather far away. Judd and his wife were sitting in the recliners, Mike and I were sitting on the sofa that mirrored them and Terry was sitting on the far sofa. About the 4th inning, Terry started to get a little bored with the pitching duel that the game had become and started to mock Judd every time he made a comment about a certain player or decision a coach made, “What the hell is that nut thinking trying to bunt with 2 strikes” said Judd,” What the hell is that nut thinking trying to bunt with 2 strikes” Terry repeated in his best Judd impersonation. “Oh my God, I could have hit that pitch” said Judd, “Oh my God, I could have hit that pitch” Terry would echo. I was starting to feel like I was in one of those pet stores with a parrot repeating everything it heard and as I looked at Mike, I could see a faint grin that I knew was going to evolve into a laugh at any minute but Judd cut us off with a “IF YOU DAMN BOYS CAN’T BE QUIET, YOU GIT OUT!” We settled back down and went back to reverently watching Brooks Robinson snag another shot down the 3rd baseline when all of a sudden we look over at where Terry was sitting and he was now standing on his head with his head on the floor looking towards the TV and his legs and feet bridged back over the sofa with his feet resting on the wall “HEY JUDD, LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME JUDD! HEY,HEY,HEY”. Before we could even laugh, Judd shot out of that recliner and started kicking Terry and yelling “YOU GIT RIGHT NOW! GIT! I SAY!” Terry was pinned upside down against the wall and sofa and was trying to contort himself in some sort of position so as to escape laughing and screaming at the same time for Judd to stop. Mike and I shot out the front door so hard we thought we tore the storm door off its hinges. We hit the last step off the porch and Terry came flying out the door with Judd close behind “YOU GIT, ALL OF YOU, GIT!” As we stood there looking at each other with tears in our eyes from the laughter, we could hear Judd saying as he closed the door behind him “THOSE GOD DAMN CRAZY KIDS ARE NUTS!”
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 19:39:19 +0000
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