tiltjlp
PN co-founder
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2003
- Messages
- 3,403
- Reaction score
- 145
- Points
- 65
- Favorite Pinball Machine
- Flying Trapeze 1934
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.
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.