Play Ball!

         Back during the early 1950’s Jerry Atwell began his illustrious football career at Narrows High School.

         Jerry didn’t address Uncle Watt as grandfather, which was their relationship. He called the senior-citizen “Poppy.” And I want to tell you a little story about this pair, the theme of which centers around a game called football. It’s a true story.

         In Jerry’s first year of varsity competition the schedule had them playing their first two games at home. That same schedule said the team must hit the road for the third---to Galax. It would be the annual battle of the colored waters--- the Green Wave versus the Maroon Tide.

         A bus carrying the team would leave Narrows at 4:00P.M. Back in those days Coach Harry C. Ragsdale was a stickler for dress; in today’s vernacular, he was “big on tog attire.” Maybe he didn’t win the District Six championship every year, but his boys were by far the “best dressed” around.

         They had to be dressed thusly when boarding buses for their road games. Trousers were pressed with creases sharp enough to slice a finger. Contrasting sports-jackets were a must. A moth- balled white shirt, the very best in one’s wardrobe. And to complete and top it all off---a tie. Yeah man, one of “them there choke rags!”

         When Coach was out of earshot his football players wondered aloud; “Hey man, are we gonna’ play ball or attend a fancy dress ball?”

         According to Coach, at least 75 percent of his winning efforts came about not necessarily because his teams were the best on the field. But always, his boys were the ugliest. The opposing side took one look at em’, and generally were scared to death right then and there. In many cases the other fella’ gave up and forfeited before the opening whistle had sounded.

         This then, was the reason Harry Ragsdale insisted on his immaculate dress code shortly after his arrival in Narrows. Even in the era of this story (the early 1950’s ) it had been in effect for more than 20 years. He could at least try to have them looking presentable. Other than that, there was very little he or anyone else could do. Excepting, of course, utilizing several teams of plastic surgeons who might do some wholesale “face-lifting.”

         The Narrows athletes were especially discontent with wearin’ ties. When Coach heard their grumbling he had a standard reply; “If one tie can help the appearance a little, then every passenger on this bus oughta’ be wearin’ half a dozen---at the same time.” His boys would then start glancing at each other across the aisle. Damned if the old man wasn’t right--- they scared each other!

         So on this particular Friday  the Narrows footballers were headed to Galax. Team members were excused early from school to go home and get tidied up in those “Sunday go to meetin’” clothes. Jerry didn’t have a car, but old Mason Ayres owned a rattletrap pile of junk. Jerry, his mother Mildred and Uncle Watt ( Mildred’s father ) lived together, and Mason dropped Jerry off there. He’d pick Jerry up in an hour was the parting remark between teammates as he roared down the hill midst a cloud of pollution.

         Jerry headed for the bathroom and his Friday ritual---a bubble bath (thank heavens this routine would end when the football season ended ). After that evil chore was finished he started getting into his exquisite wearing apparel. He was 16 years old and by now could almost get dressed by himself. Why shucks, he’d been tying his shoelaces fot the better part of 6 months now.

         But he hadn’t yet mastered the tying of a tie. Jerry had to call on Mom for that. Finally the detested routine was completed and the rising young sophomore looked the prototype of a Philadelphia lawyer.

         It was hot in the house. Having a tie wrapped around his neck contributed to his discomfort. It would be much cooler on the front porch---that’s where he’d wait for Mason.

         And the front porch is where Uncle Watt enters the picture. He was sitting out there in his favorite rocker, rocking away. No, that puffiness about his face did not indicate a toothache. It indicated an over-sized cud of Black Maria in his jaw. Black Maria was a shade on the strong side, but my oh my so satisfying and juicy!

         Apart from the rocker Uncle was occupying, a swing had long been a featured part of the front porch décor. Jerry headed for it, sat down, and started it in a “back and forth” motion with his feet. As he came to a sitting position Uncle Watt had already decided there was something very unusual about his grandson.

         Why!---hellsfire and damnation---the way the youngster was dressed—that was it! The old man’s curiosity was aroused but he didn’t say

anything. Not just yet. Instead he leaned far out over the banister and expectorated a stream of Black Maria that traveled 40 feet if it went an inch! He turned to glance once more at Jerry. Very, very badly Uncle wanted to say something, but settled for a clearing of his throat. The situation was so strange and abnormal, it indeed demanded some serious thinking.

         Jerry didn’t like to dress in fancy clothes. Why tarnation man!--- he hated em’ with a burning passion! For that very reason it was hard to keep him in Sunday School with regularity. Uncle Watt’s keen mind told him this was not Sunday, so any church activities were quickly ruled out. What in the world could be the occasion for his grandson being dressed in this manner? Curiosity killed  the cat--- it also got the best of Uncle Watt.

         “Jerry, what day of the week is this?” The ice was broken, the long silence ended.

         “It’s Friday, Poppy” replied the ballplayer.

         “Well by jimminy, that’s what I thought it wuz.” Nothing new had been learned.

         Undaunted, Uncle would try from another angle. By now the old fella’ feltpositive Jerry wasn’t feeling well; Granddad was itchin’ to learn what the problem might be.

         “What kind of perfume have you got on, boy? I can smell it all the way over here.”

         Jerry didn’t answer. Just kept on using his footsies to propel the swing.

         Uncle leaned out to unload another prolonged stream of tobacco juice---best damn chew he’d ever had! But his mind didn’t tarry long on the merits of Black Maria:

         “That’s the strongest perfume I ever smelt. What’d you do Jerry---take a bath in it?”

         The grandson didn’t wish to engage in conversation with the grandfather. The junior member of the clan would be unable to have the last word---no one could do that. So he didn’t answer this time either. At the same time Jerry realized he was being backed into a corner, and that very soon he’d be forced to say something. His thoughts were correct, and it wasn’t long in coming.

         “Where you goin’,boy?” The old man figured the time had come for a direct approach.

         “We’re gonna’ play a ballgame, Poppy.”

         Uncle leaned across the banister again. He was cutting that cud of tobacco like a squirrel works on a hickory nut. “Say you’re gonna’ play a ballgame?”

         “That’s what I said, Poppy. A ballgame.”

         “What kind of ball y’all playin’ this time of year, Jerry?”

         “Football, Poppy.”

         “Football?” Uncle paused a full two seconds and then continued: “What kinda’ ball is that?”

         “Poppy, you wouldn’t know if I told you.”

          That Black Maria was getting’ a mite dry. Time to sweeten er’ up a little. Cutting a three inch square from the plug, Uncle started mixin’ er’ in.

         “Where y’all boys gonna’ play ball--- over yonder in the schoolhouse bottom?” Uncle Watt was determined to focus in on the whole picture.

         “We’re goin’ to Galax, Poppy.”

         “Tarnation and thunderation! To Galax?” That had to sink in; maybe he hadn’t heard just right. But it drove home one fact. He (Uncle Watt) was surely overdue a visit to see Doctor E.S.Carr. For the purpose of having some wax syringed from his ears. Several years ago he’d made a trip to Galax, and if memory served him well, it was a “fur” piece over there. “did you say y’all wuz goin to Galax?”

         “That’s what I said,” answered Jerry, wishing Mason would show up early. The elderly grandfather was beginning to bug him. This grilling was too much and the youngster wanted it to end. Wishful thinking.

         “Git yourself upstairs boy and git them good clothes off.”

         Jerry pretended not to hear. It was only 4 hours til gametime---butterflies were in his stomach, the adrenaline had commenced to flow. It was becoming difficult to sit still and if Mason didn’t show soon , he would walk off this hill.

         “How y’all boys gonna’ git over yonder to Galax?”

         “Poppy, we’re goin’ on a bus.” Would there be no end to the questioning?

         “On a bus you say.”

         “Yeah. Uh--- I mean yessir.”

         “Who’s bus?”

         “We’re goin on a school bus, Poppy.”

         “Well, who’s goin’ to furnish the gas?”Jerry gave up on that remark from his grandpappy. No way would he go into detail trying to explain to the old-timer who came into this world during the 1870’s.

         “How many y’all boys gonna’ play ball?”

         “The whole team is goin’. There’ll be a busload of us.”

         “Well for the Father’s sake and tarnation! A whole busload?” Leaning out again, another squirt of Black Maria went sailing thru the air with the velocity of a missle. Those green blades of grass on the front lawn were turning brown in a hurry. Uncle turned once more to face the over-dressed grandson sitting in the swing: “I’m not tellin’ you nary another time boy. Git yourself upstairs and change them clothes.”

         “We gotta’ wear these clothes, Poppy.”

         “What in thunderation do you mean---you gotta’ wear em’?”

         “Coach Ragsdale said we had to wear em.” Jerry was fidgeting in the swing. Where in the devil could Mason be? They were going to miss the doggone bus if that Ayres boy didn’t get a move on.

         “Just who is this Ragsdale feller, Jerry?”

         “He’s our football coach.”

          “Well heavenly day! What’s that?” This younger generation and their foreign terms.

         “Poppy---you wouldn’t know if I told you.”

         “I don’t care who or what he is. He don’t hafta’ buy you them clothes. Now git on upstairs and put you on some overalls to play ball in. Them’s the best clothes you got, and you ain’t gonna’ git out here playin’ ball and come in with em’ tore off’n your back. Git up them steps boy.”

         Jerry had no answer. Hearing Mason’s car come clattering up the hill made him feel a lot better. He was anxious to get away from here, and was standing by the curb when Mason drove up.

         Uncle Watt was yelling for his daughter Mildred. She arrived at the door just as her offspring began climbing into the pile of junk.

         “I want you to look yonder Mildred. That triflin’ boy is leavin’ here wearin’ the best clothes he’s got to play ball in. These young people ain’t got the gumption God give a goose.” Mildred looked at her dad in an understanding way as he continued: “Mildred, if that doolish boy comes back in here with em’ tore off’n his back,’ by Ned you’re buyin’ the next un’s. I ain’t buyin’ another stitch of clothin’ fer him.”

         Jerry was telling his mother it would probably be 1:00 A.M. in the morning before he returned home. Uncle Watt overheard that remark and thought it truly incredible. “One o’clock in the morning! Thunderation and tarnation! What in the world is this younger generation comin’ to?”

         The two ballplayers pulled away, and black smoke rolled out behind them for at least 3 city blocks. Uncle Watt, looking very disgusted, said he’d hafta’ get in the house “til that stuff blowed away.” And that’s exactly where he went.

         Well Uncle, I’ve only this to say. Many years ago while attending “them old wrasslin’ matches” you should have ventured out the door of that old gymnasium onto the flat acres that’s right alongside . It’s called Ragsdale Field, and after spending two hours there on one of those long-ago Friday nights, the mystery of how Jerry returned home that night with his clothes intact--- would no longer be a mystery…