Dan was a pillar in our Community, his Church, the Institution of his employ (A small, Liberal Arts College in the Midwest, he/Vice President,) my next door neighbor, my Head Assistant T-Ball Coach, and Buzzy's dad - not necessarily in order of importance. He was calm, unassuming, dedicated - spoke softly...Circa 1984..
Buzzy was 7, maybe 8, I don't remember. Buzzy was, combined, like a top that had been spun/thrown, a balloon that had been pricked, and bacon - that would make any reciprocating move to get away from the heat. He was, literally, motion, energy, continual, unending. Buzzy was playing Center Field.. and Right, and Left, occasionally Shortstop, and Second Base - ALL, from his assigned/designated position of Center Field.
Buzzy would, run to the Right Fielder (game was in play) do a Chinese Fire Drill around him.. skip to the Second Baseman, tickle his ribs, somersault/cartwheel his way back to Center, jog (fastly) to help the lost Left Fielder find that allusive 4 leaf clover, chatter, giggle, smile, laugh.. you get the idea.
To top this little spinning top off, he was cute as could be, matching dimples on either side, big ole adoring brown eyes, a hat two times too big, and a smile that could light up life...
Shortly after the Chinese Fire Drill, Dan, Buzzy's father, my assistant T-Ball Coach, Community pillar - stated in a voice just a hair above normal conversation, "Buzzy, stop it!"... I'm not certain Buzzy heard it, and I am certain he paid no heed as he was skipping toward the 2nd baseman. After Buzzy tickled him, Dan's voice changed from reasonably soft, to mildly loud, "BUZZY! STOP!"...
Pretty sure Buzzy heard that one, but it's kinda hard to reply when you're doing forward rolls/cartwheels back to your position in Center. Dan's voice, the second time, had gathered the attention of our bench, and the parents bench behind us. After the 2nd cartwheel, Dan, by now some baby veins bulging from his neck, hollered "BUZZY!!!!! STOP IT!!!!." This obtained the attention of the ump, the opposing bench, their parents behind, and the three outfielders from the adjacent field.
Unfazed, Buzzy had continued on to Left Field, was on his knees assisting little Jennifer - who knew not/cared not what T-Ball/Baseball was about, to find that allusive 4 leaf clover. The ball was hit just past the 3rd baseman who had his back to the infield, staring at Jennifer and Buzzy, wondering what all Dan's fuss was about. 3rd baseman ran, retrieved the ball, tossed it to the first baseman to try to put out the runner who was on his way to 3rd from 2nd, because, that's the way T-Ball works...
Buzzy (and Jennifer) were still on their 4 leaf quest. Dan, now stuck to make a decision harder than anything his College, Church, Community, wife had presented him - rose out of his cocoon, yelling at the top of his lungs, "BUZZY!!!! STOP IT!!!! OR ELSE!!!!" Buzzy did hear this, ran and high-fived the Shortstop, stepped on 2nd Base, returned to Center Field, then started again toward Right Field for another Chinese Fire Drill.
Dan, his complexion now vividly matching our Fire Department red uni's, yelled again (BUZZY! STOP! OR ELSE!)... and again BUZZY! STOP! OR ELSE!!!!)... Upon completion of the Chinese Fire Drill, Buzzy, dimples and all, finally caught eyeballs with his father Dan, and at an equally loud voice, returned to his father "OR ELSE WHAT DAD?" (Emphasis on the WHAT)...
Have you had moments in your life when you simultaneously wanted to laugh, pee your paints, AND take a picture/video so you'd remember it for the rest of your life? Uh huh, me too, and this was one. I moved to the other end of the bench from Dan. I turned my head away, saw the smiles, covered mouths of the awaiting parents behind our bench.. I honestly do not remember the outcome, Dan's reply, or the end. My side hurt, for both me and Dan, but I knew at that moment Buzzy would grow up to be a salesman, marry the prettiest smartest cheerleader, move to Hallbrook, retire at age 49, and have second homes in both Florida and Arizona. If, at age 7 (or 8), you can do that, to that man - you can do, go, be anything you wanna. I'm certain he probably did, I'd love to find out. At that very moment, I knew Dan wouldn't believe that, but I did. Easy to tell that future.
I was gonna make this blog about prognostication, make a list of all the tools available for Dan to come up with his "OR ELSE WHAT DAD?" answer, predict Buzzy's ultimate way in life.. (You know, Google, Siri, Ask Alexa, Ouija Board, Fortune Cookie, Fortune teller, priest/Pastor, wife, yada) but I made this too long, sorry. I know I have shared, via different words, a snippet of this story before - but Siri, Alexa, Ouija would all tell you that as well, sorry, kinda. It's what old people do, we repeat ourselves. It's what old people do, we repeat ourselves.
BUZZY? Your turn to bat.
Dan, can you coach first?
I, thankfully, have a lifetime of fun, really really good sport's memories from my life (The above, among my favorites). I am certain you have your own life lists, things, stories, tales too.
We all die. I have but pictures, writings from my mother. Some awards, pictures, the folded flag from my father... too much of my own junk. And memories.
I vote, why not keep some alive? Love, Victurd.
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