My Gopher Hole Home Run

tiltjlp

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In the Fall of 1959, I entered the seventh grade at the school I nicknamed Our Lady Of Guilt, in the Cincinnati suburb of Delhi Township. Other than being the class clown, I didn’t have much to offer my classmates, since I was both shy and overweight. I also wasn’t very athletic, but I usually was recruited for the lunch time ball games, possibly out of pity, or maybe fear, as I was fifty pounds heavier than the other boys in school. I was always the second last kid picked, just before a boy they called Tip Toe Billy, who really did walk on his tip toes.

Being very slow afoot, I nearly always grounded out, even when a fielder bobbled the ball. One day I really connected, and got my Gopher Ball Homer, as it became known as. That led to the only fight I ever started, and the only fight I ever won.

I wasn’t that bad of a hitter, but I was such a slow runner that I seldom beat the throw to first base. But one day, I clobbered the ball, sending it into the trees beyond our ball field. Just like all those Cincinnati Redlegs I saw play at Crosley Field, I stood there and watched as the ball sailed away. Then I started my Home Run Trot, like a pro. Within seconds, tragedy struck, either as my punishment for showboating, or simply because I was so clumsy.

About two-thirds the way to first base, I stepped into a gopher hole. Besides being in lots of pain, I was laying on the ground, unable to pull my foot out of that gopher hole. By the time I finally got my foot unstuck, and started crawling to first base, someone had run down my homer, and I was thrown out. Although an argument ensued, since there was no Home Run Line, it was agreed that I was out. I finally got to my feet, and began hobbling off the field, hoping that I hadn’t broken my ankle.

All of a sudden, Tip Toe Billy started laughing at me. I guess he was glad that someone besides him was looking like a loser. In spite of my pain, I ran Tip Toe Billy down, and because of my weight advantage, beat the daylights out of him. The other boys cheered, a nun came rushing to break up the fight.

Both Tip Toe Billy and I were punished. But for a week I was the class hero to the other boys. Some of the girls said I was cool, but most of them thought I was a bully, but agreed that Tip Toe Billy shouldn’t have laughed at me. Tip Toe apologized, but we never became friends, since even I was too cool to be pals with a kid who walked on his toes. I never did think to ask him why he had laughed at me, knowing it would start a fight. Maybe he simply wanted to be the center of attention for once.

Before our next lunch time ball game, it was agreed that a ball that went into the trees would be an automatic home run. While I complained that my Gopher Ball Home Run should be retroactive, I was overruled. So, although it wasn’t official, and although I never did hit another homer, at least I did have the record for the longest ball ever hit by a twelve-year old seventh grader at Our Lady Of Guilt school.
 
And I was the skinny runt with a severe speech impediment back in elementary school, and I never cared much for sports in those days, 1965. The other kids were always talking about Koufax and The Dodgers, for being in Burbank/Los Angeles. Else it would have been about another team.

And so, as a runt I also had no practical ability at the game, and this exaberated my difficulties with speech and play among my peers. When I was 11 years old.
The other kids often made a joke out of me and my sincerities, and then left me out of their fun. Like Rudolph.

I remember one day being expected to participate in a baseball game. The class was divided into two teams. My buddy Brent, one of my very few friends at the time, also had a speech impediment, which was why we got along. Speech therapy allowed the both of us to pretend that we were actually cutting normal class, while the therapy was often game-oriented, but card and board games only. Nothing physical.

I was up at bat and Brent was the pitcher for the opposing team. I could hear groans from my team as I approached the plate with the bat.

And Brent started laughing at me, as if he had suddenly gone to the dark side.

Brent pitched the ball. I swung the bat...simply to connect with the ball and some saving grace...and immediately nailed Brent smack in the center of his chest with the ball. He carened and whirled with a highly audible, "Oh!" and wheezed and gasped and moaned horribly. And then he was helped off the field.

I still feel bad about it.
 
I want to say this happened in Junior High, though I don't remember the year. I hit a ball, and it was out there. I run the bases and trip, get up, and I'm having a hard time moving. I tripped over something. When I get up and stand up straight I noticed that my right foot was about 90 degrees to the right of where it should be. Everyone else winched, I had no idea, in those days I had (and still do) an extremely high tolerance of pain. What I had done was broken both bones in my leg above the ankle. But I had no pain- I didn't know this. I thought I had twisted my ankle, and that's it. The only pain I ever had associated with this is when the doctor "straightened" my leg out. After that it was a joke. After a couple weeks I was riding a bike (with one leg), and even hitting golfballs, with a full leg cast. After 3 years I was leg pressing 1390 (max weight on the machine) and crushing pencils between the plates for fun. That was about the max I could do anyway (at 14-15), until I started working out at 42, and far exceeded that.
 
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Wrestling With A Bad Memory

In my sophomore year at Loch Raven Senior I was forced to wrestle A friend in gym class. Against my wishes gym teacher Sam Nuttall made me wrestle Jay Campbell. Jay was a big,tall, awkward sort of guy. I always went sort of mental on the wrestling mat. I had a (Over)weight and strength advantage. No student could beat me at wrestling. During the match I broke Jay's right foot. I don't know how it happened but I felt really bad about it.

I never had a chance to apologize to Jay. He was back in school a few days later with a big cast on that foot. He died that weekend in a horrible car wreck. Saturday night I was heading home. There was a bright blue flash that lit up the sky. All the street lights went out. All power was out for miles around. Jay's car had left Cromwell Bridge road at an estimated 80MPH. His car literally flew down into a major power substation that also pumps water from Loch Raven Reservoir.

There was confusion about who had been in that car. At first rescuers thought there were two persons in the car. They later announced the remains belonged to only Jay. Like I said he was a big guy. Lord knows what happened to him in that wreck.

Cromwell Bridge road runs right past our High School. It is a narrow curvy road. Every guy from LRHS that drinks has flown down that road. I have always wondered if our wrestling match lead to Jay's death. I know he was on pain killers for his broken foot. I figure he was wasted when this happened.
 
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