Basketball Shorts

As I noted before, my athletic career was less than outstanding and maybe my lack of concentration -- or paying attention to the wrong thing -- contributed to that mediocrity.

An example: We were playing basketball at Pocahontas (yes, there is such a town in Iowa ) and we were getting beat as usual. Coach had called a time out, but how much can you say when you are 20 points down and less than a minute to play. Consequently, we had time to spare before play was resumed and we utilized it by watching the really good looking Pocahontas cheerleaders. My concentration powers were at their peak in this situation and before I realized it, the rest of the two teams were back playing and I was still watching. Loud screaming from the bench broke my reverie and my embarrassment was complete.

Also as noted before, my 120 pound, five-feet ten-inch body was not exactly ideal for sports. I had difficulty in filling out the standard uniforms issued to basketball players.

This deficiency was brought home one night when I found a note pinned to my jersey. I have often wondered why I didn’t save that memento because it contained a poem referring to my body type. I don’t remember the poem but it was funny and closed with the suggestion that I use the safety pin attached to hold up my basketball shorts.

The poem was not signed but I had a good idea where it came from. I had a number of girl friends -- not girl friends, but girls who were friends -- who were prone to such antics. I took it as a joke and waited my chance to return the favor some time.

Despite the won-loss record, those were fun times. One basketball game, however, did not distinguish me as a good sport. We were playing Denison (a much larger school with a good team) and contrary to all odds, we were within two points as time was running out.

One of our players threw up a desperation shot as the gun went off and miraculously it went in. The officials, however, ruled the ball was not in the air when the buzzer sounded the end of the game and therefore we lost by two points.

We were all furious, of course, and as we went into the locker room, I vented my anger at some cast iron coat hooks on the wall and they snapped off like match sticks. Just then, the officials came in and told us a review with the time keeper resulted in a reversal of their decision and the basket had counted for a tie game. We went back up to the gym and lost in overtime.

My deed had not gone unnoticed, so the following Monday I was transported back to Denison and required to apologize in front of a high school assembly. While that escapade gave me experience in public speaking, I don’t recommend it.