High School Daze

With the Avoca editor back from the Navy, my folks decided to move on and went to Ida Grove, Iowa, to work for the Pioneer Record. Mother learned the Linotype and became a two-thirder (an apprentice who got only two-thirds wage until they became qualified). The major ownership at Ida Grove was held by the same man as Avoca so the change wasn’t that radical.

Because of that linkage, it was natural for the two papers to be in communication. Thus, before I transferred to Ida Grove (I stayed at the Hinz home to finish the first semester when my parents moved), a story about a transfer sophomore basketball player was published in the Pioneer Record.

As is so often the case, accomplishments do not live up to expectations. While I was on the first ten at Ida Grove, I was more of a practice player -- shooting the eyes out, stealing passes, et cetera -- but those things never seemed to materialize in games. Consequently, I probably hold some kind of record in that I started my first game of basketball as a sophomore, but never started another contest in my entire career.

My basketball career was shortened when in my junior year at Ida Grove I quit in the middle of the season and pride kept me from changing my mind and coming back to the team.

We had a hot shot star player who was at heart a bully who liked to exert his skills to make his teammates look bad. For example, when a player went up for a jump shot, he unobtrusively tapped them on the chest, causing them to crash to the floor from such a vulnerable position. On loose balls, he would make a point to let you get there first and then slam you into the gym wall under the pretext of trying to recover the ball.

The coach either failed to see this or condoned it. I went after a loose ball in practice one day and I just knew this bully was going to try to jam me. He did and I blew up. Even to this day I do not swear very much, but I cussed him out with words that even surprised me and I stomped off the floor.

The coach and superintendent each talked to me in the next few days and asked me to reconsider but after a display such as mine, there was no way I could go back -- at least in a 16-year-olds’ mind. Besides, I had already talked to the drama coach and she allowed me a late part in an upcoming production so I had a legitimate excuse of no time to practice basketball.

That was the first of many plays I acted in during high school and one in college. Our school had junior class plays, senior class plays, all-school plays, and plays put on by the Thespian Club -- and I was in most of them.

There were many fond memories of those productions, but one in particular stands out because of the trick pulled on me by the cast members with the consent of the director. This play, I think, was High School Daze, a fluff piece much like the latter day teenie bopper movies with Frankie Avalon and that ilk.

My part was the popular class member with lots of girl friends. Unknown to me a girl, who in real-life had been hounding me and whom I had been trying to avoid, was inserted in the cast to follow me around just out of sight throughout the whole play. The audience, composed mainly of high school students aware of the real-life situation, enjoyed the ruse immensely. The laughter that resulted -- sometimes at times I did not expect -- made me think my comedic aptitude was brilliant. Eventually, I was told of the ruse and my ego was somewhat deflated.