Car!!!
A full Childhood with No Cares Except Cars
CAR!!!!
I was watching an Arizona Diamondback game some years ago when there was a break in the action. Mark Grace, the Diamondback’s analyst promptly yelled out “CAR!.”
"Gracie" explained that the break reminded him of the breaks when he played street ball as a kid. Whenever a car would appear someone would yell out “CAR!” and play would automatically stop and then continue when the car passed by until the next “CAR!” was yelled out.
This took me back to my youth and the days when my brothers and I and the neighborhood kids would play touch football in the street. The goal lines would be set; the end of the driveway on one end and the telephone pole on the other. The curbs on either side were the sideline markers. Anything caught beyond the curbs was out of bounds. Three completed passes got you a first down and a chance to move down the blacktop field. This was our Lambeau Field or Yankee Stadium.
The big games always occurred on holidays when the whole family would get together for a huge meal after which the kids headed for the street to play touch football and the adults either played cards or sat on the porch and watched the game in the street if it wasn’t cold outside.
For the big games, there were always decisions that had to be made. Would we play one-hand touch or two-hand touch?
Getting one hand on an opponent running down the field was much easier than getting two hands on an elusive runner or receiver. Two-hand touch usually caused many arguments, but that was our choice; we always liked challenges. The second decision was who would be the receiving team. This was settled in the traditional manner; with a coin flip. It was ceremoniously done with a dime that our grandparents had given each of the younger kids to spend as we wished. It seemed a dime bought a lot in those days.
The action was always serious and non-stop except for that occasional “CAR!”
One game clearly stands out in my mind. It is probably because our side won and there was a comical ending that still makes me laugh today.
My oldest brother and I were on one team and my other older brother and my brother-in-law, Frank was on the other. Frank was about 6 feet tall or more and probably weighed 125 pounds soaking wet at the time. He didn’t have an athletic bone in his body but he always tried to compete with our talented athletic family.
I played quarterback and my oldest brother was the receiver and blocker when I ran the ball. In short, it was no contest as my brother and I approached 7 touchdowns rather quickly. On what would be the final play of the game, my oldest brother came back to the huddle; (can two people be a huddle?) and drew his pass pattern carefully on my chest with his finger.
The ball was snapped and my other brother began his count before he could rush me; "1001, 1002, 1003." With that, I let go of the ball in a perfect spiral to the spot that my brother had drawn on my chest. TOUCHDOWN!!!!! GAME OVER, WE WIN!!!!
The defender, Frank, was not even close. We looked and there he was, flat on his back on our blacktop Yankee Stadium. We rushed over to make sure he wasn’t hurt and helped him to his feet. As he rose, my brothers and I went into one of those uncontrollable laughs and literally were rolling around on the street. As Frank got to his feet in his sparkling white T-Shirt, there it was; my brother’s footprints were nicely placed across his chest.
In retrospect, I think Frank wished he had yelled “CAR!!!” because I’m sure he felt that’s what hit him.
Oh, the memories of youth and the good times we had.
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