(A collection of goofy stuff baseball broadcasters say, with some technical baseball terms mixed in, not including most of the endless ways of colorfully stating, "home run.")
Across the body backhand ole: Quick backhand catch on line drive
Around the horn: Defense throwing ball from third base to second base to first base; often resulting in a 6-4-3 double-play
Airmail: Errant throw over everybody’s head
American Legion Play: Pitcher bluffs to third then looks to first: also called double-bluff
Annie Oakley: A walk (base on balls); also called a free pass
Around the horn: 6-4-3 double play
Around the world in 80 days: Slow runner circling the bases
Backup slider: Slider that doesn’t break; also called cement mixer
Backward K: Strikeout looking
Band Box: Small baseball park
Bags drunk: Bases loaded
Basket catch: Underhand catch with glove close to body about belt high
Batter's eye: Neutral backdrop beyond centerfield intended to prevent the hitter from losing the ball due to background clutter.
Battery: Pitcher and catcher
Bench jockey: Someone in the dugout effectively annoying the opposing team or umpires
Bettina Bunge backhand: Check-swing hit on low, outside pitch; a type of excuse-me swing
Bible thumper: Batter that swings at nearly everything
Big League Hang With ‘Em: Well hit ball but makes an out
(On the) Bingo Card: Batter that’s hitting less than .100 (intended to be polite)
Bloop(er): Ball that falls between infield and outfield; also called a Texas Leaguer or dying quail
Bloop and a blast: Bloop hit followed by a teammate hitting a home run.
Blue: Umpire
Boot: Error
Bucket: Horrible swing
Bugs Bunny change-up: A change-up so good it seems to stop on the way to home plate
Bump: Pitcher’s mound
Bunching (the outfield): Defense positions away from both foul lines toward center of field
Business Partner: Bat
Butcher Boy: Fake bunt, then swing
Cabbage: Player who’s out is inevitable; dead meat
Can of corn: Routine fly ball; also called room service
Camp Snoopy- The DL (disabled list)
Cannon: Strong throwing arm
Carve the turkey: Pitcher hitting all his locations
Catbird seat: Batter with pitch count/situation in his favor
Cement mixer: Slider that doesn’t break; also called backup slider
Check-swing: Swing that batter attempts to recant
Cheddar: Fast fastball
Cherry Picking: Hitting a fastball in a fastball count
Chin music: Very high, inside pitch
Clean Up: Forth hitter in batting order
Climbing the ladder: Pitching fastballs progressively higher in zone; also called Raising the ladder
Come-backer: Ball hit directly at pitcher
Commando: No batting gloves
Crooked number: Scoring more than one run in an inning
Daisy-cutter: Low line drive
Dead red: Hitter always looks fastball
Dog robber: Umpire (derogatory)
Double-bluff: Pitcher bluffs to third then looks to first: also called American Legion Play
Double-clutch: Hesitate before throwing ball
Double-switch: Two players enter game simultaneously so as to swap positions in batter order
Drag Bunt: Left-hander bunts ball past pitcher and out of reach of first baseman; see also push bunt
Drag Through Garden: An at bat with each pitch different and effective
Duck snort: Poorly hit ball that falls for hit
Dying quail: Ball that falls between infield and outfield; also called a Texas Leaguer or blooper
E 10: Spectator drops foul ball (E means error)
Earnie: Earned run
Elephant ear: Back pocket hanging inside-out
Excuse-me swing: Check-swing that makes contact with ball
Five hole: Between catcher’s legs (also fifth in batting order)
Five point five (5.5) hole: Area between third and short, coined by Tony Gwynn
Five tool player: Player that can hit for average, hit for power, run, throw and field his position well
Forced error: Baserunner causes distraction which leads to defensive error
Free pass: A walk (base on balls); also called an Annie Oakley
Four bagger: Home run
Gaylord Perry puff-ball: Put a ton of rosin on hand before throwing fastball
Generic signs: For bunt touch belt, for steal touch skin, for hit&run touch hat, for take hold up a finger
Get away day: Last day of a series between two teams; often a day game.
Go oppo: (Short for go opposite way) hit toward weak-side field; antonym of “pull”
Golden Sombrero: Strike out 4 times in a game; also called Silver Sombrero
Grab some pine, meat!: Go sit down on the bench (after that failed attempt), ambitious batter!; presumably coined by Mike Krukow
Grand salami: Grand slam
Handcuffed: Pitch causes batter to draw hands into body so can’t swing
Hanger: Breaking ball high in zone
Hat Trick: Strike out 3 times in a game
(Bringing the) Heat: Pitcher throwing fast
Hitch: A jerky motion during swing
Hitch in the giddy-up: A jerky motion in running stride
Immaculate inning: Inning in which pitcher strikes out three batters on nine total pitches
In The Hole: 2 batters away from current batter; after hitter on deck. Also phrased as in the hold
Inside-out: Knob of bat precedes barrel
(On the) Interstate: Batting in the .100’s
Jam: Pitch in on hands
Keyhole: Looking for one pitch in one location
Kitchen: Middle inside on a hitter
Knock: A hit
Lawrence Welk Double-Play: 1-2-3 (pitcher to catcher to first baseman)
LOOGY: Lefty one out guy; left-handed pitching specialist
Low bridge: Duck under ball
Lumber pile: Reserve bats
Mendoza line: Batting average right at .200
Mr. Spalding: Baseball
Never gets cheated: Always swings hard
Nickel slider: A slider with a loose spin so that the red seams form a nickel-sized circle in the ball from the batter's perspective
No dot slider: A slider without the tight spin forming a red dot in the middle of the ball from the batter's perspective
Nose to toes: Bad ball hitter
Nubber: Ball hit off end of bat; also called squib
Olympic rings: Batter that strikes out five times in a game; also called Platinum Visor
On Deck: Hitter after current batter
Off the fists: An inside pitch requiring arm strength to hit strongly
Ownage: Batter with good career stats vs a specific pitcher or vice versa
Pay-off: Pitch on a 3-2 count
Platinum Visor: Batter that strikes out five times in a game; also called Olympic rings
Peeling black/paint: Pitching right on the corners
(Play) Pepper: Stick bat out and let ball bounce off it
Perfect game: Game in which team allows no runners on base
Picked off: Runner thrown out while on base
Pie Thrower: Weak throwing arm
Pillow: Base bag
Pink hat: Bandwagon or fair-weather fan
Poached egg: Gently laid bunt
Pop-up dance: Fielder struggling to catch high fly ball in wind currents
Pow wow: Meeting at mound of coach and players
Pitcher’s best friend: Double-play
Punch and Judy: Weak but successful hit
Push Bunt: Right-hander bunts ball past pitcher and out of reach of first baseman; see also drag bunt
Rabbit ears: Umpire (or pitcher) who seems to hear everything said in dugout (or stands) and quickly takes exception (or gets unnerved)
Railroad: Baserunner plows into fielder at bag
Ribbie: Run batted in (RBI)
Rock Pile: A long meeting at the mound involving most of the players
(In the) Rocking Chair: Pitches alternatively being thrown inside and outside effectively
Rollover: Wrists rotate over top of bat on swing
Room service: Routine fly ball; also called can of corn
Round tripper: Home run
Rubber match: The final game of a three game series that will determine which team will win two of three
Rubberneck: Hitter looks at ump, surprised to hear called strike
Safety Squeeze: Runner breaks for home after ball is bunted
Salad: An easy to hit pitch
Scratch hit: Weekly hit ground ball base hit
Seed: Line-drive
Seeing-eye ball: Hit that finds the smallest of holes through the infield
Senior Circuit: National League
Set the Table: Get on base early in inning
(Getting) Shelled: Pitcher giving up a lot of hits
The Show: The Major Leagues; often expressed, “Welcome to The Show,” towards a rookie
Show-me pitch: A pitch thrown for a ball solely intended to set-up the next pitch
Signature call: Catch-phrase used by a certain broadcaster to celebrate a home run
Snow cone: A catch where half the ball is sticking out top of glove
Sparkplug: One player that motivates entire team
Squeeze: Bunt in attempt to score runner from third
(Getting) Squeezed: Umpire enforcing a small strike zone
Squib: Ball hit off end of bat; also called nubber
Stanza: Inning
Start the merry-go-round: Bases loaded & everybody will be running on contact (full count with 2 outs)
Station to station: Moving around the bases one at a time
Stepping in the bucket: Open batting stance
Straight-away: Normal defense
Strike-out the side: Get all three outs in a half-inning via strike-outs.
Suicide Squeeze: Runner breaks for home on pitch while batter bunts
Tater: Home run
Tenth man: Audience
Texas Leaguer: Ball that falls between infield and outfield; also called a blooper or dying quail
Texas Swing: A swinging bunt or long check swing
Three Hole: Third batter in batting order
Through the box: Hit back up the middle
Tomahawk: Desperate swing at high pitch
Tools of ignorance: Catcher’s gear
Ugly finder: Ball hit into dugout (and destined to hit someone ugly)
Uncle Charlie: Curve ball
Unintentional Intentional: Instead of intentional walk, throwing all balls and avoiding the strike zone
Waiting for express and caught the local: Batter strikes out looking, expecting fastball but gets something off-speed
Walk-off: Hit that results in game-ending win
Went fishing: Chased an outside pitch
Wheel Play: Shortstop covers third on pitch while third baseman defends against bunt
Wheelhouse: Natural bat path
Whirlie: Home run (reference to ump’s hand signal)
Window shopping: Batter strikes out looking
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Soccer Confusions
Association football, or soccer as it’s called in America, has very few rules (formally known as laws) necessary to understand for comprehensive viewing, but because most of these are singular to the sport in question, and because the continuous action makes a thorough explanation difficult, those only familiar with the rules of other sports frequently find soccer unappealing. Adding to the confusion is the fact that it is not uncommon for American sport commentators to unapologetically misuse soccer jargon and for popular information sources such as Wikipedia to have errors. I find it especially irritating when commentators actually criticize referees for enforcing the rules (with statements such as, “I NEVER see that called!”), but the worst are those with no appreciation for the integrity of the game suggesting the rules be changed. My aim here is to help clarify common definitional misunderstandings by highlighting the key aspects of terms for those relatively ignorant of the sport. This is not intended to be a thorough explanation of the rules; for more information visit the laws of the game at FIFA.com. (I have indicated the law number best related to each paragraph in brackets.)
PITCH: The soccer field is properly called a pitch, and while the exact dimensions can vary, it is minimally slightly larger than an American Football field. All lines on the pitch are 5 inches thick. It is divided into two halves, with each half said to belong to a team. The lines bordering the sides of the pitch are the touch lines and the lines bordering the ends are goal lines [Law 1]
SIDE: Each team is called a side. Each side starts a game, or match, with 11 players, one of them designated as the goalkeeper. A simultaneous combination of zone and man-to-man defense is used, and there are no restrictions on where any player can be on the pitch. Most of the zone positions have fairly self-explanatory names, but it seems worthwhile to detail that the player who tends to play deepest into the opponent’s half is called the center forward (cf) or number nine, while an aggressive attacking player who plays a bit deeper than a cf in order to utilize space and angles to drive towards the goal is called a striker or number ten. (Although the striker frequently wears the number ten, it is not a literal reference to a jersey number.) [Law 3]
GOAL: (1) The goal is an area 8 feet high, 8 yards (24 feet) wide and 5 inches thick centered on each end of the pitch. Each side protects their own goal and attempts to score on their opponent’s goal. (The net behind the goal has no purpose other than to make it easier to determine whether a goal has been scored.) [Law 1]
GOAL: (2) A goal scored is a ball in play that COMPLETELY crosses through a goal. The entire ball must be past the 5 inch thickness of the line and posts. No goal can be scored directly from an indirect free kick or throw-in, and a goal cannot be (accidentally) scored through one’s own goal directly from a goal kick, direct free kick, corner kick or penalty kick. [Law 10]
OUT OF BOUNDS: A ball that completely crosses the border of the pitch at any height, other than one that scores a goal, is immediately considered out of bounds and therefore out of play. Possession of the ball is given to the team opposite that of the player who last touched the ball before it went out of bounds. A ball which crosses a touch line is returned to play with a throw-in; which must be two-handed, from behind the head and with both feet on the ground. A ball touched past the opponent’s goal line results in a goal kick, and a ball touched past one’s own goal line results in a corner kick. An active player is never considered out of bounds (see MISCONDUCT). [Law 9, 15-17]
GOAL AREA: Also called the 6 yard box, the goal area is the smaller of the two rectangular areas in front of each goal that primarily functions to demark the area from which a goal kick can be taken. The only other use of the goal area is to limit the location from which indirect free kicks and dropped balls can commence (see INDIRECT FREE KICK and DROPPED BALL). [Law 1]
CHALLENGE: A challenge refers to two players simultaneously going after the ball. It is important to understand that every action of a soccer player (properly called a footballer) MUST be with the intention of playing the ball; either attempting to contact it or getting in position to do so. All contact with an opposing player must be incidental. This means no shoving, kicking, tripping, jumping at (especially with both feet), jumping on, grabbing, charging or even spitting at an opponent, unless these things happen unavoidably and not recklessly in the course of attempting to contact the ball. Also, if an opponent is between a player and a ball, that player cannot contact the opponent enroute to the ball. Any contact with an opponent that a referee judges to be intentional, avoidable or reckless is considered an illegal challenge. [Law 12]
It is equally important to understand that no footballer in the history of the game has ever fully followed this rule forbidding intentional contact with an opponent. Therefore, “heavy challenge” is often used as a euphemism implying that somebody is trying to take someone else out. A “cynical challenge” is a challenge that displays obvious disregard for the rules. No penalty is awarded when the referee find both players equally guilty of not playing the ball.
HAND BALL: While playing the ball, a player cannot intentionally contact it with any part of his hand or arm (from shoulder to fingertips) except by the goalkeeper while within his own penalty area (see PENALTY AREA). Hand ball is actually short for handling the ball. Unavoidable contact with the hand or arm or attempting to avoid such contact is not an infraction. All legal contact with a ball is called a touch. [Law 12]
Even within the penalty area, the goalkeeper can only handle the ball for no more than six seconds, and not after he deliberately releases it or after it is kicked or thrown in to them by a teammate. These infractions are not considered hand balls, however. [Law 12]
OBSTRUCTION: A player not going for a ball cannot get in the way of an opponent’s route to the ball, even if no contact with that opponent is made. However, this does not entitle that opponent to make contact with the player obstructing his route (as contact always trumps obstruction). [Law 12]
DANGEROUS PLAY: A player cannot do anything which could potentially injure an opponent, even if it is incidental and no actual contact is made. Dangerous play includes pointing shoe cleats toward an opponent and kicking near their head, always without making contact. [Law 12]
TACKLE: A tackle refers to dispossessing an opponent of the ball or intercepting a ball on the way to an opponent. This term is used almost exclusively in reference to a slide tackle, in which a tackle is made while sliding feet first. (A tackle can also refer to knocking down an opponent, but that is a homonym and, as such, a distinctly separate definition.) In order for a slide tackle to not be considered an illegal challenge or dangerous play, no contact can be made unless only one foot is forward and remains forward with the cleats facing the ground, while the other foot remains bent back and away from the opponent. (Sliding with both feet forward is called a two-legged tackle, bending a leg and tripping while slide tackling is called hooking and ensnaring an opponent between both legs is a highly punishable infraction called scissoring.) A successful tackle, in other words, winning the ball, is often considered evidence of a legal challenge as long as contact with the ball is made before contact with the opponent. [Law 12]
OFFSIDE: When on the opposing team’s half of the pitch, except any restart following an out of bounds (throw-in, goal kick or corner kick), a player without possession of the ball and ahead of it is ineligible to interfere with play or make an attempt at playing the ball, if at a teammate’s last touch there are not at least two defenders as near or nearer to their goal line (not necessarily between that player and the goal) than that player. This includes every part of his body except arms and hands. Such a player is considered offside and continues to be offside until the ball is touched by an onside teammate while he is not offside or the other team gains possession of the ball. (An offside player remains offside if, for example, a ball is deflected off the goalkeeper or a goal post.) It is NOT a penalty to passively be in an offside position, nor does it matter if a ball is received in an offside position as long as that player was onside when the teammate made last contact, but this requires the receiving player to successfully time his run. Please note that it is NOT “offsides.” The antonym of offside is colloquially referred to as onside. (Offside has nothing to do with the location of the ball relative to the player already controlling it.) [Law 11]
OFFSIDE TRAP: It is common strategy for a defensive player or players to move further away from their goal line just before a ball is to be passed so that potential recipients suddenly become offside. The second to last defender is the lynchpin in defining the imaginary line demarking offside. It is obviously beneficial but also more challenging to have several players in defensive positions holding this back line and synchronizing the offside trap. An offense unable to counter this tactic and beat the offside trap becomes forced to rely on a player’s dribbling skills to maneuver the ball through the line without passing or score a goal from behind the line. A defense competent and confident in holding the line will prefer to push it forward, moving further from their goal. [Law 11]
ADVANTAGE: When a foul is spotted, the referee can chose to allow play to continue briefly in order to determine whether it is preferable for the fouled team to continue play or impose a penalty. The referee signals the fouled team that he has seen the foul but to play the advantage by gesturing both arms forward. After play has been given a few seconds to develop, the referee must make a permanent decision whether to let play continue, allowing the advantage, or stop play and impose the proper penalty. [Law 5]
PENALTY AREA: Also known as the 18 yard box, the penalty area is the larger of the two rectangles drawn in front of each goal. Besides restricting the handling of the ball by the goalkeeper (see HAND BALL), if a player commits an illegal challenge or hand ball within his own penalty area while the ball is in play, the other team can be awarded a penalty kick. [Law 1]
PENALTY KICK: Any one player gets a chance to kick the ball one time from a spot 12 yards in front of the opposing goal, with only the goalkeeper defending it. The goalkeeper must remain on the goal line until the kick, and the kicker cannot break stride. The other players must remain behind the penalty area and outside of the half circle above it (called the “D”) until the kick is made, after which normal play immediately resumes. [Law 14]
DIRECT FREE KICK: For an illegal challenge or hand ball outside of a team’s own penalty area, a referee can stop play and award the fouled team a kick of a stationary ball from the location of the foul (NOT the location of the ball at the time of the foul). The opposing team must remain 10 yards from the ball until it is kicked. [Law 13]
INDIRECT FREE KICK: For offside, dangerous play, obstruction, preventing the goalkeeper from releasing the ball, illegal handling of the ball by a goalkeeper other than a hand ball or if play is stopped to issue any card (see YELLOW CARD and RED CARD), a referee can award the fouled team a kick of a stationary ball from the location of the foul, unless that foul occurs inside a team’s own goal area, in which case it is placed on the line of the goal area nearest the location of the foul. An indirect free kick is similar to a direct free kick, with the exception that after the first kick of the stationary ball, another teammate must also touch the ball before a goal can be scored. A foul penalized by an indirect free kick is never entitled to a penalty kick. [Law 13]
MISCONDUCT: Briefly, misconduct is dissent, delay of game, not allowing the proper distance on a free kick or corner kick or entering or outright leaving the pitch without permission. [Law 12]
YELLOW CARD: Any foul that a referee deems as intentional (and not simply a result of a poor decision or technique) OR misconduct is penalized by giving the guilty player a booking or caution, which is done by literally showing them a yellow card. Play is often not stopped in order to issue a yellow card, but is instead done so at the next available opportunity. Because, by definition, a hand ball is always intentional, in order for it to be penalized with a yellow card, it must be in an attempt to score a goal or unquestionably intentional, which is a slightly higher standard. [Law 12]
RED CARD: If any foul is considered dangerous with solid contact (properly called serious foul play but often mistakenly called dangerous play), violent, vulgar, interferes with an obvious goal scoring opportunity or receives a second yellow card, he is shown a red card and expelled from the game, or sent off. That team must play out the remainder of the match with one less player. [Law 12]
DROPPED BALL: A dropped ball restarts play on the rare occasion when the referee deems it necessary to stop play without assessing a penalty. These reasons include an injury requiring immediate medical attention, the ball goes flat, two balls are in play, something dangerous gets thrown on the pitch, a fan decides to join the game, etc. After these instances, the referee simply drops the ball where it was located when play was stopped and immediately becomes live for any player after it touches the ground, except if the ball was inside the goal area, in which case it is dropped on the goal area line nearest its last location. [Law 8]
The referee should not stop play simply because a player is injured, but a player from the opposing team will sometimes put the ball out of bounds to stop play, allowing an injured player to be attended to, as a courtesy. It is an expected display of good sportsmanship to give a ball back to a team that was in possession whenever play is stopped for an injured player on the opposing team.
SUBSTITUTION: In an official soccer match, each team is allowed to substitute only three players (with only seven potential subs) in total. A substituted player cannot return to play. In an exhibitionary match, called a friendly, the number of substitutions allowed can be whatever the two sides agree upon before the match, with the norm being six. Additional substitutions are not allowed for any reason, including injury. [Law 3]
STOPPAGES: The sport of soccer is intended to be a test of endurance, and so every effort is made to keep the players in constant activity (and is precisely why substitutions are limited). During a match, the time-of-play clock can only be stopped and restarted by the head referee, and, in order to avoid argument or confusion, these stoppages are recorded only by that referee. The stoppages are not intended to be a secret, and happen when a ball goes out of bounds, a goal is scored, a penalty kick or any free kick is given or on rare occasions when the referee deems it necessary to stop play (see DROPPED BALL). Substitutions are only allowed during one of these other stoppages, and only at the referee’s discretion, and so play is never stopped solely to allow a substitution. It is not uncommon for the referee and players to do such a good job of keeping the ball in play that there are only a few seconds worth of total stoppages. [Law 5]
STOPPAGE TIME : All stoppages are added onto the end of every half, and play continues in what is called stoppage time, extra time, injury time or penalty time. The head referee indicates the length of stoppage time, rounded down to the nearest minute (so, for example, 2 minutes of stoppage time indicates at least 2 minutes). (If asked, a referee will tell a player the rounded amount of stoppage time that has been accumulated even before stoppage time begins.) An exact time cannot be given, because stoppages can happen during stoppage time. Also, play does not stop while one team has an obvious advantage. [Law 7]
PITCH: The soccer field is properly called a pitch, and while the exact dimensions can vary, it is minimally slightly larger than an American Football field. All lines on the pitch are 5 inches thick. It is divided into two halves, with each half said to belong to a team. The lines bordering the sides of the pitch are the touch lines and the lines bordering the ends are goal lines [Law 1]
SIDE: Each team is called a side. Each side starts a game, or match, with 11 players, one of them designated as the goalkeeper. A simultaneous combination of zone and man-to-man defense is used, and there are no restrictions on where any player can be on the pitch. Most of the zone positions have fairly self-explanatory names, but it seems worthwhile to detail that the player who tends to play deepest into the opponent’s half is called the center forward (cf) or number nine, while an aggressive attacking player who plays a bit deeper than a cf in order to utilize space and angles to drive towards the goal is called a striker or number ten. (Although the striker frequently wears the number ten, it is not a literal reference to a jersey number.) [Law 3]
GOAL: (1) The goal is an area 8 feet high, 8 yards (24 feet) wide and 5 inches thick centered on each end of the pitch. Each side protects their own goal and attempts to score on their opponent’s goal. (The net behind the goal has no purpose other than to make it easier to determine whether a goal has been scored.) [Law 1]
GOAL: (2) A goal scored is a ball in play that COMPLETELY crosses through a goal. The entire ball must be past the 5 inch thickness of the line and posts. No goal can be scored directly from an indirect free kick or throw-in, and a goal cannot be (accidentally) scored through one’s own goal directly from a goal kick, direct free kick, corner kick or penalty kick. [Law 10]
OUT OF BOUNDS: A ball that completely crosses the border of the pitch at any height, other than one that scores a goal, is immediately considered out of bounds and therefore out of play. Possession of the ball is given to the team opposite that of the player who last touched the ball before it went out of bounds. A ball which crosses a touch line is returned to play with a throw-in; which must be two-handed, from behind the head and with both feet on the ground. A ball touched past the opponent’s goal line results in a goal kick, and a ball touched past one’s own goal line results in a corner kick. An active player is never considered out of bounds (see MISCONDUCT). [Law 9, 15-17]
GOAL AREA: Also called the 6 yard box, the goal area is the smaller of the two rectangular areas in front of each goal that primarily functions to demark the area from which a goal kick can be taken. The only other use of the goal area is to limit the location from which indirect free kicks and dropped balls can commence (see INDIRECT FREE KICK and DROPPED BALL). [Law 1]
CHALLENGE: A challenge refers to two players simultaneously going after the ball. It is important to understand that every action of a soccer player (properly called a footballer) MUST be with the intention of playing the ball; either attempting to contact it or getting in position to do so. All contact with an opposing player must be incidental. This means no shoving, kicking, tripping, jumping at (especially with both feet), jumping on, grabbing, charging or even spitting at an opponent, unless these things happen unavoidably and not recklessly in the course of attempting to contact the ball. Also, if an opponent is between a player and a ball, that player cannot contact the opponent enroute to the ball. Any contact with an opponent that a referee judges to be intentional, avoidable or reckless is considered an illegal challenge. [Law 12]
It is equally important to understand that no footballer in the history of the game has ever fully followed this rule forbidding intentional contact with an opponent. Therefore, “heavy challenge” is often used as a euphemism implying that somebody is trying to take someone else out. A “cynical challenge” is a challenge that displays obvious disregard for the rules. No penalty is awarded when the referee find both players equally guilty of not playing the ball.
HAND BALL: While playing the ball, a player cannot intentionally contact it with any part of his hand or arm (from shoulder to fingertips) except by the goalkeeper while within his own penalty area (see PENALTY AREA). Hand ball is actually short for handling the ball. Unavoidable contact with the hand or arm or attempting to avoid such contact is not an infraction. All legal contact with a ball is called a touch. [Law 12]
Even within the penalty area, the goalkeeper can only handle the ball for no more than six seconds, and not after he deliberately releases it or after it is kicked or thrown in to them by a teammate. These infractions are not considered hand balls, however. [Law 12]
OBSTRUCTION: A player not going for a ball cannot get in the way of an opponent’s route to the ball, even if no contact with that opponent is made. However, this does not entitle that opponent to make contact with the player obstructing his route (as contact always trumps obstruction). [Law 12]
DANGEROUS PLAY: A player cannot do anything which could potentially injure an opponent, even if it is incidental and no actual contact is made. Dangerous play includes pointing shoe cleats toward an opponent and kicking near their head, always without making contact. [Law 12]
TACKLE: A tackle refers to dispossessing an opponent of the ball or intercepting a ball on the way to an opponent. This term is used almost exclusively in reference to a slide tackle, in which a tackle is made while sliding feet first. (A tackle can also refer to knocking down an opponent, but that is a homonym and, as such, a distinctly separate definition.) In order for a slide tackle to not be considered an illegal challenge or dangerous play, no contact can be made unless only one foot is forward and remains forward with the cleats facing the ground, while the other foot remains bent back and away from the opponent. (Sliding with both feet forward is called a two-legged tackle, bending a leg and tripping while slide tackling is called hooking and ensnaring an opponent between both legs is a highly punishable infraction called scissoring.) A successful tackle, in other words, winning the ball, is often considered evidence of a legal challenge as long as contact with the ball is made before contact with the opponent. [Law 12]
OFFSIDE: When on the opposing team’s half of the pitch, except any restart following an out of bounds (throw-in, goal kick or corner kick), a player without possession of the ball and ahead of it is ineligible to interfere with play or make an attempt at playing the ball, if at a teammate’s last touch there are not at least two defenders as near or nearer to their goal line (not necessarily between that player and the goal) than that player. This includes every part of his body except arms and hands. Such a player is considered offside and continues to be offside until the ball is touched by an onside teammate while he is not offside or the other team gains possession of the ball. (An offside player remains offside if, for example, a ball is deflected off the goalkeeper or a goal post.) It is NOT a penalty to passively be in an offside position, nor does it matter if a ball is received in an offside position as long as that player was onside when the teammate made last contact, but this requires the receiving player to successfully time his run. Please note that it is NOT “offsides.” The antonym of offside is colloquially referred to as onside. (Offside has nothing to do with the location of the ball relative to the player already controlling it.) [Law 11]
OFFSIDE TRAP: It is common strategy for a defensive player or players to move further away from their goal line just before a ball is to be passed so that potential recipients suddenly become offside. The second to last defender is the lynchpin in defining the imaginary line demarking offside. It is obviously beneficial but also more challenging to have several players in defensive positions holding this back line and synchronizing the offside trap. An offense unable to counter this tactic and beat the offside trap becomes forced to rely on a player’s dribbling skills to maneuver the ball through the line without passing or score a goal from behind the line. A defense competent and confident in holding the line will prefer to push it forward, moving further from their goal. [Law 11]
ADVANTAGE: When a foul is spotted, the referee can chose to allow play to continue briefly in order to determine whether it is preferable for the fouled team to continue play or impose a penalty. The referee signals the fouled team that he has seen the foul but to play the advantage by gesturing both arms forward. After play has been given a few seconds to develop, the referee must make a permanent decision whether to let play continue, allowing the advantage, or stop play and impose the proper penalty. [Law 5]
PENALTY AREA: Also known as the 18 yard box, the penalty area is the larger of the two rectangles drawn in front of each goal. Besides restricting the handling of the ball by the goalkeeper (see HAND BALL), if a player commits an illegal challenge or hand ball within his own penalty area while the ball is in play, the other team can be awarded a penalty kick. [Law 1]
PENALTY KICK: Any one player gets a chance to kick the ball one time from a spot 12 yards in front of the opposing goal, with only the goalkeeper defending it. The goalkeeper must remain on the goal line until the kick, and the kicker cannot break stride. The other players must remain behind the penalty area and outside of the half circle above it (called the “D”) until the kick is made, after which normal play immediately resumes. [Law 14]
DIRECT FREE KICK: For an illegal challenge or hand ball outside of a team’s own penalty area, a referee can stop play and award the fouled team a kick of a stationary ball from the location of the foul (NOT the location of the ball at the time of the foul). The opposing team must remain 10 yards from the ball until it is kicked. [Law 13]
INDIRECT FREE KICK: For offside, dangerous play, obstruction, preventing the goalkeeper from releasing the ball, illegal handling of the ball by a goalkeeper other than a hand ball or if play is stopped to issue any card (see YELLOW CARD and RED CARD), a referee can award the fouled team a kick of a stationary ball from the location of the foul, unless that foul occurs inside a team’s own goal area, in which case it is placed on the line of the goal area nearest the location of the foul. An indirect free kick is similar to a direct free kick, with the exception that after the first kick of the stationary ball, another teammate must also touch the ball before a goal can be scored. A foul penalized by an indirect free kick is never entitled to a penalty kick. [Law 13]
MISCONDUCT: Briefly, misconduct is dissent, delay of game, not allowing the proper distance on a free kick or corner kick or entering or outright leaving the pitch without permission. [Law 12]
YELLOW CARD: Any foul that a referee deems as intentional (and not simply a result of a poor decision or technique) OR misconduct is penalized by giving the guilty player a booking or caution, which is done by literally showing them a yellow card. Play is often not stopped in order to issue a yellow card, but is instead done so at the next available opportunity. Because, by definition, a hand ball is always intentional, in order for it to be penalized with a yellow card, it must be in an attempt to score a goal or unquestionably intentional, which is a slightly higher standard. [Law 12]
RED CARD: If any foul is considered dangerous with solid contact (properly called serious foul play but often mistakenly called dangerous play), violent, vulgar, interferes with an obvious goal scoring opportunity or receives a second yellow card, he is shown a red card and expelled from the game, or sent off. That team must play out the remainder of the match with one less player. [Law 12]
DROPPED BALL: A dropped ball restarts play on the rare occasion when the referee deems it necessary to stop play without assessing a penalty. These reasons include an injury requiring immediate medical attention, the ball goes flat, two balls are in play, something dangerous gets thrown on the pitch, a fan decides to join the game, etc. After these instances, the referee simply drops the ball where it was located when play was stopped and immediately becomes live for any player after it touches the ground, except if the ball was inside the goal area, in which case it is dropped on the goal area line nearest its last location. [Law 8]
The referee should not stop play simply because a player is injured, but a player from the opposing team will sometimes put the ball out of bounds to stop play, allowing an injured player to be attended to, as a courtesy. It is an expected display of good sportsmanship to give a ball back to a team that was in possession whenever play is stopped for an injured player on the opposing team.
SUBSTITUTION: In an official soccer match, each team is allowed to substitute only three players (with only seven potential subs) in total. A substituted player cannot return to play. In an exhibitionary match, called a friendly, the number of substitutions allowed can be whatever the two sides agree upon before the match, with the norm being six. Additional substitutions are not allowed for any reason, including injury. [Law 3]
STOPPAGES: The sport of soccer is intended to be a test of endurance, and so every effort is made to keep the players in constant activity (and is precisely why substitutions are limited). During a match, the time-of-play clock can only be stopped and restarted by the head referee, and, in order to avoid argument or confusion, these stoppages are recorded only by that referee. The stoppages are not intended to be a secret, and happen when a ball goes out of bounds, a goal is scored, a penalty kick or any free kick is given or on rare occasions when the referee deems it necessary to stop play (see DROPPED BALL). Substitutions are only allowed during one of these other stoppages, and only at the referee’s discretion, and so play is never stopped solely to allow a substitution. It is not uncommon for the referee and players to do such a good job of keeping the ball in play that there are only a few seconds worth of total stoppages. [Law 5]
STOPPAGE TIME : All stoppages are added onto the end of every half, and play continues in what is called stoppage time, extra time, injury time or penalty time. The head referee indicates the length of stoppage time, rounded down to the nearest minute (so, for example, 2 minutes of stoppage time indicates at least 2 minutes). (If asked, a referee will tell a player the rounded amount of stoppage time that has been accumulated even before stoppage time begins.) An exact time cannot be given, because stoppages can happen during stoppage time. Also, play does not stop while one team has an obvious advantage. [Law 7]
Monday, August 13, 2012
Junior Senior
Eleventh grade would bring a lot of change. I met Nacho on the school bus. I’m not sure why I was riding the bus. It could have been after I rear-ended my VW bug into some crazy chick, driving in what I thought was fog but turned out to be a broken defroster. Or maybe it was just because that piece of junk didn’t start half the time. I frequently got rides to marching band in Scott’s Camaro with a bass you could hear from two blocks away and to jazz band with Jason Ruddy, who is my uncle’s grandson.
Regardless, Nacho was a Catalan living in Madrid, which he attempted to elucidate the significance of. He told me about futbol, and gave me a shirt that said futbol, but it would be until years later that I’d discover Ronaldinho and finally realize what he’d been trying to explain. Because his host family had to move and he didn’t want to change schools again, Nacho ended up moving in and living with us for the school year.
Before Nacho could even speak English, we went to Hardee’s with Faith and Charity Abuhl, where it was revealed that both of them were interested in dating me. (Not at the same time, obviously.) Charity was more audacious but Faith was prettier and my age, so I went with her. Her parents had a rule that we could only go on two dates a week, which we probably thought was criminally cruel at the time, but was actually a good idea. She introduced me to tennis. We ate a lot of fast food and saw a bunch of movies. Honestly, we didn’t have that much in common, and anyway we were too naive to know what our interests were or what to do with our time.
After I wrecked the bug, my brother gave me his Ford Festiva. A group of seniors would amuse themselves by picking it up and carrying it to random places in the school lot. I wrecked the Festiva, too, by running a yield sign in front on the school and getting sideswiped by a Camaro.
My drum instructor finally succeeded in convincing me to start actually listening to jazz music. Max Roach’s Drums Unlimited completely changed my views of what was possible on the drumset, and soon I was buying up every jazz CD that was recommended to me. Also around this time, I got into Jimi Hendrix and Erik introduced me to all manner of gangsta rap. I watched Star Trek: Next Generation and Northern Exposure religiously. I also read a lot of classic literature. I became close friends with a kid at my church named Michael Gossen, and we hung out on most Sunday afternoons. Clay Scarborough would come over not infrequently to escape his rough home life and we’d spend the evenings watching anime, Godzilla, kung-fu, samurai and camp (B) movies. I don’t know how Clay knew so much so early in life, except that he was more perceptive than anyone I’d ever met. I’d also wander over to Dave Shultz’s house and get beat at ping pong. Most of what I remember about school itself involves screwing around with Dave- seeing how close we could get to getting in trouble without actually getting in trouble. I spent a lot of time in detention for trifles so hackneyed I doubt they even bothered to tell my parents.
Larry Cory and Andrew Larsen would continuously harass me to let them cheat off my tests in Mrs. Christensen’s class, the content of which I don’t even remember. Jeremy Wicks and I dissected a cat in Advanced Biology. We watched Ken Burn’s Civil War series in Mr. Taylor’s class, during which this kid sat behind me and drew me pictures. He was another kid that got picked on, and I only remember that everyone called him “Doorstop.” I hope that kid turned out alright….
During the summer between eleventh and twelfth grades, I worked during the day at a concession stand on the ninth hole of the Ankeny Golf & Country Club golf course. This young kid who lived across the street would join me. We’d listen to Adam Sandler and serve extremely strong mixed drinks to well-tipping golfers while helping ourselves to candy bars. I can’t fathom why I was allowed to do that job unsupervised.
A waitress named Kristin Gamble, who’s twin sister had been there all along, started working at the AG&CC restaurant, where I worked in the evenings washing dishes until I was promoted to making salads. I exerted a lot of energy playing practical jokes on Kristin.
I got good enough at tennis that I’d routinely go to the courts by the library and defeat the kids that were actually on the North Polk tennis team, which would make them extremely pissed, much to my amusement.
My senior year of high school was basically more of the same. Josh Kortbein introduced me to Nirvana. Cory Webb introduced me to Soundgarden. Beth Dudley tried to introduce me to Brooks and Dunn. I somehow discovered Smashing Pumpkins and Blind Melon. Dave and I spent way to much time making a computer game called Clue II. We took a class trip to Washington DC. My most vivid memory of that is being alone in a hotel room listening to a Tony Williams CD and having the guys I was rooming with come running in to telling me to join then at the pool because Erin Bequeaith was wearing a skimpy bikini. I didn’t care, and continued listening to the CD.
I spent my last summer before college still working at the AG&CC restaurant, and the person I’d miss the most when I went away to college with Faith was Kristin.
Regardless, Nacho was a Catalan living in Madrid, which he attempted to elucidate the significance of. He told me about futbol, and gave me a shirt that said futbol, but it would be until years later that I’d discover Ronaldinho and finally realize what he’d been trying to explain. Because his host family had to move and he didn’t want to change schools again, Nacho ended up moving in and living with us for the school year.
Before Nacho could even speak English, we went to Hardee’s with Faith and Charity Abuhl, where it was revealed that both of them were interested in dating me. (Not at the same time, obviously.) Charity was more audacious but Faith was prettier and my age, so I went with her. Her parents had a rule that we could only go on two dates a week, which we probably thought was criminally cruel at the time, but was actually a good idea. She introduced me to tennis. We ate a lot of fast food and saw a bunch of movies. Honestly, we didn’t have that much in common, and anyway we were too naive to know what our interests were or what to do with our time.
After I wrecked the bug, my brother gave me his Ford Festiva. A group of seniors would amuse themselves by picking it up and carrying it to random places in the school lot. I wrecked the Festiva, too, by running a yield sign in front on the school and getting sideswiped by a Camaro.
My drum instructor finally succeeded in convincing me to start actually listening to jazz music. Max Roach’s Drums Unlimited completely changed my views of what was possible on the drumset, and soon I was buying up every jazz CD that was recommended to me. Also around this time, I got into Jimi Hendrix and Erik introduced me to all manner of gangsta rap. I watched Star Trek: Next Generation and Northern Exposure religiously. I also read a lot of classic literature. I became close friends with a kid at my church named Michael Gossen, and we hung out on most Sunday afternoons. Clay Scarborough would come over not infrequently to escape his rough home life and we’d spend the evenings watching anime, Godzilla, kung-fu, samurai and camp (B) movies. I don’t know how Clay knew so much so early in life, except that he was more perceptive than anyone I’d ever met. I’d also wander over to Dave Shultz’s house and get beat at ping pong. Most of what I remember about school itself involves screwing around with Dave- seeing how close we could get to getting in trouble without actually getting in trouble. I spent a lot of time in detention for trifles so hackneyed I doubt they even bothered to tell my parents.
Larry Cory and Andrew Larsen would continuously harass me to let them cheat off my tests in Mrs. Christensen’s class, the content of which I don’t even remember. Jeremy Wicks and I dissected a cat in Advanced Biology. We watched Ken Burn’s Civil War series in Mr. Taylor’s class, during which this kid sat behind me and drew me pictures. He was another kid that got picked on, and I only remember that everyone called him “Doorstop.” I hope that kid turned out alright….
During the summer between eleventh and twelfth grades, I worked during the day at a concession stand on the ninth hole of the Ankeny Golf & Country Club golf course. This young kid who lived across the street would join me. We’d listen to Adam Sandler and serve extremely strong mixed drinks to well-tipping golfers while helping ourselves to candy bars. I can’t fathom why I was allowed to do that job unsupervised.
A waitress named Kristin Gamble, who’s twin sister had been there all along, started working at the AG&CC restaurant, where I worked in the evenings washing dishes until I was promoted to making salads. I exerted a lot of energy playing practical jokes on Kristin.
I got good enough at tennis that I’d routinely go to the courts by the library and defeat the kids that were actually on the North Polk tennis team, which would make them extremely pissed, much to my amusement.
My senior year of high school was basically more of the same. Josh Kortbein introduced me to Nirvana. Cory Webb introduced me to Soundgarden. Beth Dudley tried to introduce me to Brooks and Dunn. I somehow discovered Smashing Pumpkins and Blind Melon. Dave and I spent way to much time making a computer game called Clue II. We took a class trip to Washington DC. My most vivid memory of that is being alone in a hotel room listening to a Tony Williams CD and having the guys I was rooming with come running in to telling me to join then at the pool because Erin Bequeaith was wearing a skimpy bikini. I didn’t care, and continued listening to the CD.
I spent my last summer before college still working at the AG&CC restaurant, and the person I’d miss the most when I went away to college with Faith was Kristin.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
The Barbs
The most notable change to start my freshman year of high school was 7:00am marching band rehearsals on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays as well as jazz band rehearsals at the same time on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I wasn’t actually in the jazz band; I simply attended at the bequest of the teacher in order to learn from Mike Leonard and Rusty Wiseman how to play jazz on the drumset. I lived right around the corner from Mike, and he picked me up in his black Monte Carlo for awhile to go to jazz band practice. We never spoke and he never even attempted to teach me anything. Eventually he just decided to stop picking me up altogether. Ignoring me wouldn’t be grounds to deem him an asshole, but the fact that he was constantly ridiculing his girlfriend does. Rusty never taught me anything either, but at least he was cordial.
Marching band, however, was a blast. This animated redhead named Nicole Pennington generously made sure we had a good time in the drum line. Amy Johnson was also still there, and then a few new people began trickling in- I believe Nathan Tigges was first, followed by Kara Brandau. It would be years before I found another group with which I laughed so much. We gave ourselves nicknames- I was Mickey (because I had a Mickey Mouse watch I’d gotten from Disneyland over the summer) and Nicole and Kara were The Barbs. The Barbs quoted from the movie Misery incessantly.
Nathan was an interesting guy. He was smart and observant, with a wry sense of humor. He was also thin and clumsy, which he was perceptibly self-conscious about. I remember suggesting to him that he should learn how to fight. He was a year older than me, but also happened to have an extremely attractive sister in my class named Adrienne. She was very nice to me, although I sort of don’t think she’d remember who I was.
The prettiest girl in my class was Lisa Moore, who sat next to me in science class. Her house got destroyed by a tornado that passed near our school during a band concert. Maybe that’s what caused her to move, but I almost think that happened after she was already gone and I simply heard about it through the grapevine. Either way; she transferred to Ankeny, and on her last week at North Polk I got an infection in my ear that swelled up and was pretty gross and I always figured that was her last impression of me if she remembered me at all. I was quite floored when I got a Facebook friend request from her last year.
Bryan Hitz played the trombone, and the trombone players were an interesting group. Bryan began hanging out mostly with a hilarious and vulgar guy named Doug, and frankly that made me jealous. Today it all seems childish, but then again, I was a child back then. Eventually, Bryan started dating an older girl named Jonann Owen, which launched him into a downward spiral of depression. I can’t remember when another character named Clay Scarborough would join the trombone players, but he would grow to become a great friend and influential person, introducing me to all manner of Japanese movies, a genre I have since become somewhat obsessed with.
Neither Bryan nor Trace went back out for basketball in ninth grade, so only Erik and I were left on the bench. The only reason I ever got into a game was because, if it was a blow-out, Charlie Husak would request that I replace him for the last two minutes. I would later have the privilege of getting to know his grandparents, and I will testify that all the Husaks were wonderful people. (Another delightful family in Polk City was the Webbs.)
The basketball team often practiced in the elementary school gymnasium, and for some reason that space nearly always gave me a nosebleed. I went to a doctor who stuck something hot up my nose but the problem persisted. This was excruciatingly humiliating, but at least it did get me out of having to run back and forth and finishing last.
Besides Erik and Charlie, the rest of the basketball team were assholes- especially Curious George, who now went by Magic. Little pranks gradually escalated into routine harassment. I was stuffed in lockers and toilets and wrapped in Cory Brown’s shit-streaked towel. Near the end of the season, I joined an everybody-against-everybody basketball contest on the stage behind the basketball court and ended up scoring more points than most of the others. Suddenly it occurred to me that none of those guys were actually any good at basketball either. The coach had witnessed the scrimmage, and when we were done, said to me, “If you keep practicing, you could be a starter next year.” I decided that would be the sweetest revenge, and spent the summer between ninth and tenth grades practicing a ton of basketball, often scrimmaging with a kid a year younger than me named Sean who lived nearby. Sean overtly disdained me, which made him good competition. He also had an Atari.
Attempting to become a starter on the basketball team probably isn’t the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but it ranks right up there.
By the start of tenth grade I had received my school-work permit, which gave me free reign to drive my rusted-out ’71 Volkwagon Beetle as recklessly as possible, which I took full advantage of. (The first time I took the driving test, I missed a speed limit sign and consequently failed for driving too slow, so I had to take it again.)
Bryan was forcibly removed from North Polk not long after tenth grade began, and the rest of that school year is a blur of numbness. Only the kindness of The Barbs, as well as my friendships with Clay and Dave Shultz, made that year survivable.
Mike and Rusty had both graduated, which left jazz drumming duties in my incapable hands, along with Aaron Weineth, who was a year younger than me and a better drummer. He had started taking private drum lessons from Woody Smith in Urbandale, so I did the same. I would continue taking lessons from Woody right up until I left for college.
In other places, kids in the Talented and Gifted (TAG) program attend a different school. Unfortunately, all we did was take some group test on the computer every year that featured a creature called The Greak Awk, or something like that. I was the only male in TAG, which was great because, in contrast to the guys, every girl in my class was nice to me. I assumed it was because I seemed pathetic and harmless.
Anyway, several hours into one of these TAG tests, the multiple-choice question asked was, What unit is used to measure the length of a horse? Hattie Sparks, who was the only girl I ever dared asking out during high school, and who declined every time, immediately answered, “I think it’s a hand.” I knew hands were used to measure the height of a horse, but that seemed close enough, and besides, I wanted Hattie to be right. For some reason, this devolved into me having a meltdown, after which I assumed none of those girls would ever want to have anything to do with me.
Besides being tormented by various groups of jerks, and relatedly, discovering while rolling around inside a bass drum case I was somewhat claustrophobic, that’s about all I remember about tenth grade.
Near the end of it, Erik and I went to the Saylorville Marina with the intent of applying for summer jobs, but we spent the whole day goofing around on the docks and never got around to it. Luckily, Trace let us know about job openings at the Ankeny Golf and Country Club, and we both got hired. I started out my first job washing dishes for the member’s only restaurant at the country club. Erik didn’t last there long, but I liked it well enough, even though for the first year of that job everybody except the salad maker (who’s name I oddly can’t remember) was pretty bitchy. Strangely, everybody there called me Andy.
Marching band, however, was a blast. This animated redhead named Nicole Pennington generously made sure we had a good time in the drum line. Amy Johnson was also still there, and then a few new people began trickling in- I believe Nathan Tigges was first, followed by Kara Brandau. It would be years before I found another group with which I laughed so much. We gave ourselves nicknames- I was Mickey (because I had a Mickey Mouse watch I’d gotten from Disneyland over the summer) and Nicole and Kara were The Barbs. The Barbs quoted from the movie Misery incessantly.
Nathan was an interesting guy. He was smart and observant, with a wry sense of humor. He was also thin and clumsy, which he was perceptibly self-conscious about. I remember suggesting to him that he should learn how to fight. He was a year older than me, but also happened to have an extremely attractive sister in my class named Adrienne. She was very nice to me, although I sort of don’t think she’d remember who I was.
The prettiest girl in my class was Lisa Moore, who sat next to me in science class. Her house got destroyed by a tornado that passed near our school during a band concert. Maybe that’s what caused her to move, but I almost think that happened after she was already gone and I simply heard about it through the grapevine. Either way; she transferred to Ankeny, and on her last week at North Polk I got an infection in my ear that swelled up and was pretty gross and I always figured that was her last impression of me if she remembered me at all. I was quite floored when I got a Facebook friend request from her last year.
Bryan Hitz played the trombone, and the trombone players were an interesting group. Bryan began hanging out mostly with a hilarious and vulgar guy named Doug, and frankly that made me jealous. Today it all seems childish, but then again, I was a child back then. Eventually, Bryan started dating an older girl named Jonann Owen, which launched him into a downward spiral of depression. I can’t remember when another character named Clay Scarborough would join the trombone players, but he would grow to become a great friend and influential person, introducing me to all manner of Japanese movies, a genre I have since become somewhat obsessed with.
Neither Bryan nor Trace went back out for basketball in ninth grade, so only Erik and I were left on the bench. The only reason I ever got into a game was because, if it was a blow-out, Charlie Husak would request that I replace him for the last two minutes. I would later have the privilege of getting to know his grandparents, and I will testify that all the Husaks were wonderful people. (Another delightful family in Polk City was the Webbs.)
The basketball team often practiced in the elementary school gymnasium, and for some reason that space nearly always gave me a nosebleed. I went to a doctor who stuck something hot up my nose but the problem persisted. This was excruciatingly humiliating, but at least it did get me out of having to run back and forth and finishing last.
Besides Erik and Charlie, the rest of the basketball team were assholes- especially Curious George, who now went by Magic. Little pranks gradually escalated into routine harassment. I was stuffed in lockers and toilets and wrapped in Cory Brown’s shit-streaked towel. Near the end of the season, I joined an everybody-against-everybody basketball contest on the stage behind the basketball court and ended up scoring more points than most of the others. Suddenly it occurred to me that none of those guys were actually any good at basketball either. The coach had witnessed the scrimmage, and when we were done, said to me, “If you keep practicing, you could be a starter next year.” I decided that would be the sweetest revenge, and spent the summer between ninth and tenth grades practicing a ton of basketball, often scrimmaging with a kid a year younger than me named Sean who lived nearby. Sean overtly disdained me, which made him good competition. He also had an Atari.
Attempting to become a starter on the basketball team probably isn’t the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but it ranks right up there.
By the start of tenth grade I had received my school-work permit, which gave me free reign to drive my rusted-out ’71 Volkwagon Beetle as recklessly as possible, which I took full advantage of. (The first time I took the driving test, I missed a speed limit sign and consequently failed for driving too slow, so I had to take it again.)
Bryan was forcibly removed from North Polk not long after tenth grade began, and the rest of that school year is a blur of numbness. Only the kindness of The Barbs, as well as my friendships with Clay and Dave Shultz, made that year survivable.
Mike and Rusty had both graduated, which left jazz drumming duties in my incapable hands, along with Aaron Weineth, who was a year younger than me and a better drummer. He had started taking private drum lessons from Woody Smith in Urbandale, so I did the same. I would continue taking lessons from Woody right up until I left for college.
In other places, kids in the Talented and Gifted (TAG) program attend a different school. Unfortunately, all we did was take some group test on the computer every year that featured a creature called The Greak Awk, or something like that. I was the only male in TAG, which was great because, in contrast to the guys, every girl in my class was nice to me. I assumed it was because I seemed pathetic and harmless.
Anyway, several hours into one of these TAG tests, the multiple-choice question asked was, What unit is used to measure the length of a horse? Hattie Sparks, who was the only girl I ever dared asking out during high school, and who declined every time, immediately answered, “I think it’s a hand.” I knew hands were used to measure the height of a horse, but that seemed close enough, and besides, I wanted Hattie to be right. For some reason, this devolved into me having a meltdown, after which I assumed none of those girls would ever want to have anything to do with me.
Besides being tormented by various groups of jerks, and relatedly, discovering while rolling around inside a bass drum case I was somewhat claustrophobic, that’s about all I remember about tenth grade.
Near the end of it, Erik and I went to the Saylorville Marina with the intent of applying for summer jobs, but we spent the whole day goofing around on the docks and never got around to it. Luckily, Trace let us know about job openings at the Ankeny Golf and Country Club, and we both got hired. I started out my first job washing dishes for the member’s only restaurant at the country club. Erik didn’t last there long, but I liked it well enough, even though for the first year of that job everybody except the salad maker (who’s name I oddly can’t remember) was pretty bitchy. Strangely, everybody there called me Andy.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The Golden Years of Junior High
I remember the thing with Joe Gardeman: we had art class together and he thought it was funny to smear paint on me and my artwork. When I complained to the teacher, she intimated my artwork didn’t have any redeeming qualities to start with so it didn’t particularly matter. So the next time he tried to sneak behind me to do something annoying, I tried to elbow him with a backswing of my arm but missed and fell out of my stool instead. Obviously this with quite embarrassing for me and amusing to him and I tried for awhile to even the score.
Joe was friends with this intimidatingly strong yet friendly classmate named Cameron Hicamp. Cam was also on the football team and, taking pity on me after I’d whined about being head-butted (with my helmet on) during practice, told me if anyone ever messed with me to let him know and he would take care of it, which meant that Joe and I were always friendly after that and nobody would mess with me for the remainder of junior high, after which Cam moved away.
Every year we had to take the Iowa Test of Basic Skills (ITBS). Everybody hated those things, but I always secretly enjoyed the essay section as some of them were rather interesting. In fact, I would sometimes get so wrapped up in the essays I’d have to hurry through the test questions, and later when I got bored with the other tests, I’d skip back in the test booklet to re-read them. Anyway, one day I sat down to take the test only to realize I had a #3 pencil. As anyone who’s taken it knows, basically the only rule of the test is that you have to use a #2 pencil. I somehow procured one, but as time began, Cam leaned over and said, “Quick, give me that pencil,” referring to the #3 pencil I’d left on my desk. Not knowing what else to do, I gave it to him, and until this day have always wondered what the outcome of that was, never daring to mention it to anybody.
When the results of the ITBS came in, the principal called me to his office to personally congratulate me for scoring at the absolute top of the curved percentage test. As I spent the majority of my time surrounded either by idiots or people that couldn’t care less about tests, I didn’t find that result particularly exciting. Then, the principal suggested that I could help tutor some of my peers. That suggestion struck me as ludicrous. I didn’t know how to teach. I didn’t know how to interact with peers. Basically, the only thing I knew was how to fill in little ovals with a #2 pencil. Later that day, I heard Cameron Hicamp’s name over the loudspeaker, being called into the office, and I knew it was to inform him he’d scored at the bottom of the ITBS.
Once I got through the first semester, the rest of junior high was awesome. Erik and I played a lot of GI Joe (yes, we were aware we were too old for GI Joe), Nintendo (at which I never improved) and, most importantly, befriended Bryan Hitz. Bryan is the most imaginative person I’ve ever met. He was constantly coming up with a myriad of games for us to play, ranging from Supreme Retaliation to Willie’s Quest and culminating in a club called SASL (Students Against Stephen Leach), in which we devised ways to torment our favorite teacher. Bryan introduced me to “Weird” Al Yankovic, Dr. Who and who knows what else.
I didn’t intend to go back out for football in eighth grade, but Mr. Taylor, the coach, came up to me the first day of 8th Period study hall and gave me some speech about not quitting, so I inexplicably spent another semester being crushed by people actually big enough to play football. I also went out for basketball both years of junior high. Bryan, Erik, Trace and I sat at the far end of the bench and amused ourselves by mimicking the coaches and whatnot. The coaches threatened us with not letting us play if we goofed around, which didn’t discourage us at all, as not only did we not want to humiliate ourselves on the court, we already knew they weren’t going to put us in anyway.
One day during Mr. Latimer's eighth grade history class, I suddenly threw up, possibly in the direction of Brenda Nelson. From then on, Matt Larsen would call me Barf Boy, which I didn’t actually find particularly worse than Wormser (because I looked like that character from Revenge of the Nerds), Will or the various other bastardizations of my last name I was generally called. Honestly, I was rather proud that Matt Larsen knew who I was.
Whereas I didn’t even know why other males considered them interesting, Matt seemed to understand girls. Further, he seemed to know which girls. Several of them flocked around him, and he had a way of showing off with smart-ass, condescending retorts. When I wore a Harley Davidson shirt that he said I wasn’t cool enough for, I knew that was some kind of hint to wear that shirt more often. On rare occasions when Matt was not with girls, he talked to me like I was a normal person.
If I could figure out a way to combine Bryan’s creativity with Matt’s confidence, I figured that was about all I’d need in life.
Joe was friends with this intimidatingly strong yet friendly classmate named Cameron Hicamp. Cam was also on the football team and, taking pity on me after I’d whined about being head-butted (with my helmet on) during practice, told me if anyone ever messed with me to let him know and he would take care of it, which meant that Joe and I were always friendly after that and nobody would mess with me for the remainder of junior high, after which Cam moved away.
Every year we had to take the Iowa Test of Basic Skills (ITBS). Everybody hated those things, but I always secretly enjoyed the essay section as some of them were rather interesting. In fact, I would sometimes get so wrapped up in the essays I’d have to hurry through the test questions, and later when I got bored with the other tests, I’d skip back in the test booklet to re-read them. Anyway, one day I sat down to take the test only to realize I had a #3 pencil. As anyone who’s taken it knows, basically the only rule of the test is that you have to use a #2 pencil. I somehow procured one, but as time began, Cam leaned over and said, “Quick, give me that pencil,” referring to the #3 pencil I’d left on my desk. Not knowing what else to do, I gave it to him, and until this day have always wondered what the outcome of that was, never daring to mention it to anybody.
When the results of the ITBS came in, the principal called me to his office to personally congratulate me for scoring at the absolute top of the curved percentage test. As I spent the majority of my time surrounded either by idiots or people that couldn’t care less about tests, I didn’t find that result particularly exciting. Then, the principal suggested that I could help tutor some of my peers. That suggestion struck me as ludicrous. I didn’t know how to teach. I didn’t know how to interact with peers. Basically, the only thing I knew was how to fill in little ovals with a #2 pencil. Later that day, I heard Cameron Hicamp’s name over the loudspeaker, being called into the office, and I knew it was to inform him he’d scored at the bottom of the ITBS.
Once I got through the first semester, the rest of junior high was awesome. Erik and I played a lot of GI Joe (yes, we were aware we were too old for GI Joe), Nintendo (at which I never improved) and, most importantly, befriended Bryan Hitz. Bryan is the most imaginative person I’ve ever met. He was constantly coming up with a myriad of games for us to play, ranging from Supreme Retaliation to Willie’s Quest and culminating in a club called SASL (Students Against Stephen Leach), in which we devised ways to torment our favorite teacher. Bryan introduced me to “Weird” Al Yankovic, Dr. Who and who knows what else.
I didn’t intend to go back out for football in eighth grade, but Mr. Taylor, the coach, came up to me the first day of 8th Period study hall and gave me some speech about not quitting, so I inexplicably spent another semester being crushed by people actually big enough to play football. I also went out for basketball both years of junior high. Bryan, Erik, Trace and I sat at the far end of the bench and amused ourselves by mimicking the coaches and whatnot. The coaches threatened us with not letting us play if we goofed around, which didn’t discourage us at all, as not only did we not want to humiliate ourselves on the court, we already knew they weren’t going to put us in anyway.
One day during Mr. Latimer's eighth grade history class, I suddenly threw up, possibly in the direction of Brenda Nelson. From then on, Matt Larsen would call me Barf Boy, which I didn’t actually find particularly worse than Wormser (because I looked like that character from Revenge of the Nerds), Will or the various other bastardizations of my last name I was generally called. Honestly, I was rather proud that Matt Larsen knew who I was.
Whereas I didn’t even know why other males considered them interesting, Matt seemed to understand girls. Further, he seemed to know which girls. Several of them flocked around him, and he had a way of showing off with smart-ass, condescending retorts. When I wore a Harley Davidson shirt that he said I wasn’t cool enough for, I knew that was some kind of hint to wear that shirt more often. On rare occasions when Matt was not with girls, he talked to me like I was a normal person.
If I could figure out a way to combine Bryan’s creativity with Matt’s confidence, I figured that was about all I’d need in life.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Fall of 88
Andrew Mercer was the cruelest kid I ever encountered. He’d wait a couple blocks from the bus stop so he could jump me in the mornings. Then he’d apologize. That was the worst part. Strangely, I’d request to safely remove my glasses before being attacked and he would oblige. I didn’t know what he was picking on me for, except that I was the imposter new kid at school with the same first name. I was also an easy-looking target, but I was actually scrappy and not one to back down from a fight, even turning the tables and getting the better of him sometimes, so probably things escalated as a result. I also recall some early skirmishes with Joe Gardeman at the same bus stop, but as I never harbored any resentment towards him, I suspect those were instigated by me. During the bus ride itself, I tried to mind my own business as the rest of the kids tried their best to light the bus on fire and torment the driver, who they called One-Eyed Jack. I once witnessed a projectile narrowly missing the back of his head before cracking the windshield. I was grateful that at least I wasn’t being picked on as much as him.
Within the first couple weeks at my new school, I received a mysterious note from someone named “Aimee” asking me out. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I asked Matt, who still had a locker next to me and was still one of the few people I knew at that point. He shrugged. I eventually concluded it must have come from the girl drummer in band named Amy Johnson and could only assume she was spelling her own name wrong to be cute. So we wrote notes back and forth for awhile. She always ended them with TTFN. I really never understood the point of it, unless it had something to do with the nervousness associated with interacting with her.
I signed up for the football squad, not realizing actual football with body armor is much different than touch football in front yards. It was a nightmare that started 8th Period and lasted until 5pm. I would get so nervous during 7th Period that I sometimes thought I would pass out. The body armor weighed more than I did. I played tight-end, and rotated out with Jeremy Wicks every other play. When I came in, I’d give the quarterback, Charlie, the next play, which was always the same play- hand the ball to Andrew Mercer or Ryan and hope for a miracle. We lost every single game.
The house we initially moved into in Polk City had issues with the title. It was owned by an incarnation of evil, who happened to be the father of Dustin Drozd. Dustin had a clever wit which I admired, but his dad told all of his children in my presence that they weren’t allowed to hang out with me because my family was causing him trouble. I’d later experience a scene straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird where Dustin’s dad threatened my dad’s life.
My dad and I raised pigeons, and dad built a pigeon shed in the backyard. One day I was taking care of or playing with the pigeons when, to my horror, Amy and another girl named Cara appeared. I showed them the pigeons and answered their questions as hurriedly as possible. At least that’s what I think I did, as everything had become a blur of panic. All I could think was how I would explain to my parents, who I assumed were watching from the windows in the house, why I had been talking with girls. Interacting with the opposite sex was not something that was condoned in my family.
On the last day before Christmas break, Amy’s friend Jodi informed me that she was breaking up with me. For some reason, I chose to respond, “I don’t believe you,” which caused her to disappear for a few minutes, after which she returned with the news, “You’d better.” I was slightly relieved that I’d no longer have to spend time figuring out how to compose notes.
The first guys to befriend me at North Polk Junior High/High School were Trace Kendig and Erik Sheldon. I met them both in Mr. Leach’s English class. I believe the first thing Erik asked me was whether I liked the song Kokomo, by The Beach Boys. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he sang it to me, which I found hilariously intriguing.
When the art teacher heard I was associating myself with Trace, she bluntly told me he was an idiot. This is just how messed up that school was. The only thing wrong with Trace was that he smoked cigarettes, and he never so much as offered a cigarette to me. Trace and I never really did hang out a lot, probably only because we lived in different towns, but as we got older he’d occasionally give me a ride in his goofy kit-car and was also instrumental in landing me my first job.
Erik and I, however, would become best friends and hang out a ton in junior high. This had a lot to do with the fact that, thankfully, the sale of that first house never went through, and over Christmas break we moved again. Polk City is divided by a rise or hill, and we moved from under the hill to on it, one carload at a time. Now I lived across the street from Amy and the next street over from Erik. This move also meant a change of buses and bus stops. I could now learn about every baseball player and how much they were worth via Erik’s baseball card collection while being driven to school by One-Eyed Jack’s wife.
Andrew Mercer moved out of state before seventh grade ended.
Within the first couple weeks at my new school, I received a mysterious note from someone named “Aimee” asking me out. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I asked Matt, who still had a locker next to me and was still one of the few people I knew at that point. He shrugged. I eventually concluded it must have come from the girl drummer in band named Amy Johnson and could only assume she was spelling her own name wrong to be cute. So we wrote notes back and forth for awhile. She always ended them with TTFN. I really never understood the point of it, unless it had something to do with the nervousness associated with interacting with her.
I signed up for the football squad, not realizing actual football with body armor is much different than touch football in front yards. It was a nightmare that started 8th Period and lasted until 5pm. I would get so nervous during 7th Period that I sometimes thought I would pass out. The body armor weighed more than I did. I played tight-end, and rotated out with Jeremy Wicks every other play. When I came in, I’d give the quarterback, Charlie, the next play, which was always the same play- hand the ball to Andrew Mercer or Ryan and hope for a miracle. We lost every single game.
The house we initially moved into in Polk City had issues with the title. It was owned by an incarnation of evil, who happened to be the father of Dustin Drozd. Dustin had a clever wit which I admired, but his dad told all of his children in my presence that they weren’t allowed to hang out with me because my family was causing him trouble. I’d later experience a scene straight out of To Kill a Mockingbird where Dustin’s dad threatened my dad’s life.
My dad and I raised pigeons, and dad built a pigeon shed in the backyard. One day I was taking care of or playing with the pigeons when, to my horror, Amy and another girl named Cara appeared. I showed them the pigeons and answered their questions as hurriedly as possible. At least that’s what I think I did, as everything had become a blur of panic. All I could think was how I would explain to my parents, who I assumed were watching from the windows in the house, why I had been talking with girls. Interacting with the opposite sex was not something that was condoned in my family.
On the last day before Christmas break, Amy’s friend Jodi informed me that she was breaking up with me. For some reason, I chose to respond, “I don’t believe you,” which caused her to disappear for a few minutes, after which she returned with the news, “You’d better.” I was slightly relieved that I’d no longer have to spend time figuring out how to compose notes.
The first guys to befriend me at North Polk Junior High/High School were Trace Kendig and Erik Sheldon. I met them both in Mr. Leach’s English class. I believe the first thing Erik asked me was whether I liked the song Kokomo, by The Beach Boys. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he sang it to me, which I found hilariously intriguing.
When the art teacher heard I was associating myself with Trace, she bluntly told me he was an idiot. This is just how messed up that school was. The only thing wrong with Trace was that he smoked cigarettes, and he never so much as offered a cigarette to me. Trace and I never really did hang out a lot, probably only because we lived in different towns, but as we got older he’d occasionally give me a ride in his goofy kit-car and was also instrumental in landing me my first job.
Erik and I, however, would become best friends and hang out a ton in junior high. This had a lot to do with the fact that, thankfully, the sale of that first house never went through, and over Christmas break we moved again. Polk City is divided by a rise or hill, and we moved from under the hill to on it, one carload at a time. Now I lived across the street from Amy and the next street over from Erik. This move also meant a change of buses and bus stops. I could now learn about every baseball player and how much they were worth via Erik’s baseball card collection while being driven to school by One-Eyed Jack’s wife.
Andrew Mercer moved out of state before seventh grade ended.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Summer of Drought
The other day, this nice old gardener named Charlie commented that he hadn’t seen a drought like this (in Iowa) since 1988. “But you probably wouldn’t remember that,” he added.
Truth is; I remember the summer of ’88 like it was yesterday. That’s when we moved from a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere to the small town of Polk City. I found it pretty easy to meet kids simply by riding my yellow Huffy bicycle around town, and quickly discovered that I lived not far from three classmates- Jason England, Bob Newton and Matt Bird. Jason liked to bike ride and skateboard, but I don’t remember him participating in the frequent front yard touch football games, which was my favorite thing to do. I also don’t remember him joining us in playing Nintendo, which is what we usually did. I wish I had learned to skateboard- I probably would have gotten to know Jason better. In fact, I do remember my sole childhood skateboarding experience, which consisted of getting on Jason’s sister’s board and immediately wiping out.
Bob Newton played touch football with us sometimes, and his front yard was a preferred field, but in general he was not one for shenanigans. Whereas I have always been a bit hyper and like to stay active, Bob was kind of lazy. I remember mostly hanging out with him alone. I never knocked on Jason’s door, even though he lived across the street, but I’d frequently knock on Bob’s, which was about a block away. This might have been due to my knowledge that his parents were never home. He’d show me where they stashed their weapons and booze… in a non-threatening, matter-of-fact way. It seems crazy in retrospect, but these things were innocently revealed as a way of bragging about what were obviously his family’s most valued possessions. Bob was forthright and unashamed.
The majority of my time that summer was spent with a group revolving around Matt Bird, his brother Lee and this kid Sean who was a year younger than me and lived across the street from them. They listened to a lot of Poison. I used to try to decipher their lyrics, which I had been told were Satanic, but had no luck. They also played a lot of Nintendo, which I was embarrassingly bad at. Our favorite game was Mike Tyson’s Punchout. The best Nintendo player was a girl; I think she must have been older than the rest of us, but now have no idea who she was. Girls would remain mostly mysterious to me for several more years.
My first day at the new school was overwhelming. A classmate I hadn’t met before also named Andrew (with the last name Mercer) began picking on me when I was still at the bus stop. The seventh graders’ lockers were in a basement, and when we got to the school I was relieved to discover my locker was next to Matt’s. I happily shared my excitement about this with him, and immediately this short kid I’d later learn went by Curious George jeered from behind us, “Hey Matt- you know that nerd?” Then he turned to me, “Hey kid, you’re going to have to move your locker down the hall. Only the cool kids have their lockers in front.”
I glanced down the hall and saw that I could move to be nearer to Bob, but to this day, the best way to get me to not do something is to tell me I have to do it. I turned my back to the heckler and twirled the combination of the lock on my locker. At my old school, the lock was built into the lockers, so once you entered the combination you simply lifted the door handle to open them. These lockers instead had a lock that passed through a hole that you had to remove before lifting the handle. Not understanding how it worked, I attempted to open this new locker like the ones I was used to while Curious George became annoyed that I was pretending to ignore him. “Are you going to move your locker or what?” he continued, as he pushed my fumbling hand aside and twirled the combination lock so I’d have to start over. “You’d better not be here when I get back,” he finally threatened and left.
Matt had been there right next to me the whole time, nervously ignoring the proceedings. I re-entered the combination and tried lifting the handle again to know avail. Having no alternative, I sheepishly turned to Matt and asked, “How do you open theses lockers?” He angrily removed the lock from the locker and gave me a look that I knew meant, Never talk to me again, you idiot.
To this day, whenever I get flustered I suddenly become unreasonably disoriented. I spent the rest of that day wandering around the school utterly lost, wondering how the hallways kept moving locations. Eventually a teacher would look at my schedule and guide me to my next class, but, even as the book count piled up after every new class period, I never found that basement locker room again for the remainder of the day.
I wasn’t flustered for being picked on. I have this inexplicable fearless stubbornness that I guess must be in my genes that at this point had accumulated 12 years of experience at ignoring being yelled at. (I never did move the location of my locker.) I was, however, mad at myself for stupidly not knowing how to open my locker. I don’t like not being able to figure out how to do things that should be obvious. More importantly, I was confused by having experienced something that was new to me- betrayal. Matt would never again behave as my friend. Matt was the good-looking, relatively athletic kid that we were all supposed to be aspiring to be like. I recognized, though, that his disloyalty represented the worst in humanity. I resolved to never be like him, even as I understood I hadn’t been given the choice.
In contrast, neither Jason the skateboarder nor Bob the delinquent ever did me any wrong. Years later I would have a highly enjoyable time reconnecting with Bob as we were thrown into the same Driver’s Ed car. Bob was also the first person I knew who got a tattoo- a tribute to another kid in our school who died. I thought it was awesome, and he proudly displayed it on his arm even as our classmates expressed their disgust. You see, I went to a school where ridicule and bullying was the norm. With the remarkable exception of Charlie Husak, without whose protection I probably would have been seriously injured, the most popular kids were the ones who picked on me the most. The nicest kids at that school were the ones who rebelled against it.
I was surprised when I received an invitation from Robert Newton to be his friend on Facebook awhile ago, but gladly accepted his invitation. I was saddened to learn from it when he suddenly and unexpectedly died earlier this year.
Truth is; I remember the summer of ’88 like it was yesterday. That’s when we moved from a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere to the small town of Polk City. I found it pretty easy to meet kids simply by riding my yellow Huffy bicycle around town, and quickly discovered that I lived not far from three classmates- Jason England, Bob Newton and Matt Bird. Jason liked to bike ride and skateboard, but I don’t remember him participating in the frequent front yard touch football games, which was my favorite thing to do. I also don’t remember him joining us in playing Nintendo, which is what we usually did. I wish I had learned to skateboard- I probably would have gotten to know Jason better. In fact, I do remember my sole childhood skateboarding experience, which consisted of getting on Jason’s sister’s board and immediately wiping out.
Bob Newton played touch football with us sometimes, and his front yard was a preferred field, but in general he was not one for shenanigans. Whereas I have always been a bit hyper and like to stay active, Bob was kind of lazy. I remember mostly hanging out with him alone. I never knocked on Jason’s door, even though he lived across the street, but I’d frequently knock on Bob’s, which was about a block away. This might have been due to my knowledge that his parents were never home. He’d show me where they stashed their weapons and booze… in a non-threatening, matter-of-fact way. It seems crazy in retrospect, but these things were innocently revealed as a way of bragging about what were obviously his family’s most valued possessions. Bob was forthright and unashamed.
The majority of my time that summer was spent with a group revolving around Matt Bird, his brother Lee and this kid Sean who was a year younger than me and lived across the street from them. They listened to a lot of Poison. I used to try to decipher their lyrics, which I had been told were Satanic, but had no luck. They also played a lot of Nintendo, which I was embarrassingly bad at. Our favorite game was Mike Tyson’s Punchout. The best Nintendo player was a girl; I think she must have been older than the rest of us, but now have no idea who she was. Girls would remain mostly mysterious to me for several more years.
My first day at the new school was overwhelming. A classmate I hadn’t met before also named Andrew (with the last name Mercer) began picking on me when I was still at the bus stop. The seventh graders’ lockers were in a basement, and when we got to the school I was relieved to discover my locker was next to Matt’s. I happily shared my excitement about this with him, and immediately this short kid I’d later learn went by Curious George jeered from behind us, “Hey Matt- you know that nerd?” Then he turned to me, “Hey kid, you’re going to have to move your locker down the hall. Only the cool kids have their lockers in front.”
I glanced down the hall and saw that I could move to be nearer to Bob, but to this day, the best way to get me to not do something is to tell me I have to do it. I turned my back to the heckler and twirled the combination of the lock on my locker. At my old school, the lock was built into the lockers, so once you entered the combination you simply lifted the door handle to open them. These lockers instead had a lock that passed through a hole that you had to remove before lifting the handle. Not understanding how it worked, I attempted to open this new locker like the ones I was used to while Curious George became annoyed that I was pretending to ignore him. “Are you going to move your locker or what?” he continued, as he pushed my fumbling hand aside and twirled the combination lock so I’d have to start over. “You’d better not be here when I get back,” he finally threatened and left.
Matt had been there right next to me the whole time, nervously ignoring the proceedings. I re-entered the combination and tried lifting the handle again to know avail. Having no alternative, I sheepishly turned to Matt and asked, “How do you open theses lockers?” He angrily removed the lock from the locker and gave me a look that I knew meant, Never talk to me again, you idiot.
To this day, whenever I get flustered I suddenly become unreasonably disoriented. I spent the rest of that day wandering around the school utterly lost, wondering how the hallways kept moving locations. Eventually a teacher would look at my schedule and guide me to my next class, but, even as the book count piled up after every new class period, I never found that basement locker room again for the remainder of the day.
I wasn’t flustered for being picked on. I have this inexplicable fearless stubbornness that I guess must be in my genes that at this point had accumulated 12 years of experience at ignoring being yelled at. (I never did move the location of my locker.) I was, however, mad at myself for stupidly not knowing how to open my locker. I don’t like not being able to figure out how to do things that should be obvious. More importantly, I was confused by having experienced something that was new to me- betrayal. Matt would never again behave as my friend. Matt was the good-looking, relatively athletic kid that we were all supposed to be aspiring to be like. I recognized, though, that his disloyalty represented the worst in humanity. I resolved to never be like him, even as I understood I hadn’t been given the choice.
In contrast, neither Jason the skateboarder nor Bob the delinquent ever did me any wrong. Years later I would have a highly enjoyable time reconnecting with Bob as we were thrown into the same Driver’s Ed car. Bob was also the first person I knew who got a tattoo- a tribute to another kid in our school who died. I thought it was awesome, and he proudly displayed it on his arm even as our classmates expressed their disgust. You see, I went to a school where ridicule and bullying was the norm. With the remarkable exception of Charlie Husak, without whose protection I probably would have been seriously injured, the most popular kids were the ones who picked on me the most. The nicest kids at that school were the ones who rebelled against it.
I was surprised when I received an invitation from Robert Newton to be his friend on Facebook awhile ago, but gladly accepted his invitation. I was saddened to learn from it when he suddenly and unexpectedly died earlier this year.
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