Boys Growing Up

This column has been years in the making.  Maybe decades.  It might not have a lot to do with sports but for me it is a natural extension of a discussion about what we do growing up and how it influences the athletes and adults we eventually become. 

Bill, Ronnie, Teddy, Jerry, Tony,  Gary, Ricky.  We grew up together, at least until college age, when most of us drifted apart--some way apart.   It seems like we were always together doing something.  We either walked or took bikes everywhere we went.

Every summer, from an age that would seem insane in today's world, we would get up in the morning and meet somewhere on our bikes. Lunch would be at whoever's house we found ourselves at when we got hungry.  Nobody carried money so buying lunch was never even an option.

Usually it was PB&J and lemonade.   Granny Miller would offer us souse meat sandwiches but that may have been to get rid of us.  Since I lived out in the country, my house was rarely on the list.  The only rule was be home by supper.

Although it was a game way out of our socio-economic status, we played tennis all the time.  We had a deal with the owners of the only two tennis courts in town (there were no public courts) that we would keep the courts clean and in return got to play whenever we wanted to unless the owners wanted the courts. 

We played the only organized sport available to us (football), and spent weekends and summers playing everything you can imagine, usually on our own.

We knew where you could find a flat yard to play (the Andersons, the Harrisons).  We knew where there was a decent basketball goal (the Smiths, the Junior High).  We would also sometimes sneak into the old high school to play basketball.  We would swim in the Tennessee River or one of the local creeks although without permission (definitely without our parents' knowledge) because there was no public pool.

Gary had a football, Bill a basketball, but all of us had a baseball glove and a baseball.  I had a bat (only wood back then).  I remember crying when an older boy broke it. There was no Little League but there was a program called Summer Recreation and pick-up baseball games were part of the summer mornings there.

We made do with whatever we had.  Street football on Ferry Street.  Red Rover in anybody's yard.  Fishing with a cane pole and worms  we dug up in the garden. 

We used to have contests at anything and everything.    Who could hit the stop sign throwing a rock the most times out of 10? (Usually Gary.)  Who won the three-legged running race? (Usually Ronnie and Tony.)

Things didn't work out great for all of us.  Gary, who would likely be a famous musician today, was injured in a motorcycle wreck and never recovered.

Bill discovered some bad habits in high school and stayed in trouble most of his adult life, finally dying a couple of years ago in circumstances that might still be unclear.   Jerry, the Italian kid of the group, died in his 30's of a heart attack.

All the others are still alive and have lived abundant, responsible lives.  Different in many ways yet forever tied together by how and where we grew up. 

All of us were what we would call "athletic" today.  Once apart, our paths diverged, with there being serious golfers and bikers and tennis players and water skiers and hikers and snow skiers among us.  I believe that has everything to do with the diversity that we followed each and every summer. 

Quoting Dickens:  "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."  But isn't that what growing up is all about anyway?