Country Club Boulevard

For what seemed like forever but was just, one would guess, a few years I participated in pick up ball games usually on Saturdays. Baseball was generally the sport, although there were two other options, including football and versions of hide/seek/tag.

Flashlight tag was played after dark at one of three locations, the exciting one being a certain neighborhood mansion. Teddy Bear tag was played in someone's basement and was essentially the same as run the bases. T B t involved Teddy Bear repair breaks; their would be a certain amount of wear and tear on a stuffed animal winged across the basement at kids trying to hustle from base to base.

Reparations were left the capable hands of local TB repair person Mrs. whomever. I went to their country club once where a starchy white outfit worn by the Mrs. is about all that I recall other than the general lack of abilities on display between her son and I.

Our seven square mile tiny town had a Community House where people could swim for a dollar a session year round. There was also an apartment complex that for awhile had a swim club membership similarly affordable, where I went with a girlfriend or two, among others people I invited.

Flashlight tag was somewhat memorable for a similar reason, she being somebody's teenage or junior high school sister, she of the auburn hair. She gazed at a streetlamp after our games had concluded one night and compared accurately the illumination to that of a Lincoln penny.

Barbie was memorable in the sense of being quotable, being a veteran of the softball diamond. Her younger brother would sing " We want a pitcher, not a glass of water " as someone attempted to strike out the side.

At first what I had in mind here was that there was an inevitably strange end to the ball games that seemed overly important to the person who organized them. The end was depressing though almost predictable. The boy who was the central character/organizer was something of an annoying person; he recruited me twice for a summer baseball league. The second summer I ended up participating.

This kid was a mousy brat who ended up like myself needing some special school or other due in his case some type of experimentation with drugs. This is what I was told retroactively. The last word though was he was considering studying Engineering. This made sense as he tended to excel mathematically.

The baseball geek of very limited talent ended up wrestling as I recall. Prior to this he studied Martial Arts. All in all there were a lot of positives to balance out the obnoxious side.

Probably it is more of interest to have this piece be an advertisement for growing up in the Garden State. This is why it will be submitted to Wander more likely than not. Either I was in a relatively special town in suburban New Jersey or the state itself really has a great deal to offer. I did read not long ago that the town actually managed to produce a female Olympian.

In retrospect it makes sense that someone would distinguish him or herself athletically. I found myself given the chance to pursue gymnastics and a handful of other sports at a young age. The summer baseball league did not involve stressing/blowing out pitching arms, which probably made sense.

A feature of the town's organized sports programs was that all the kids got to participate. This was pretty much irrespective of natural ability. If a kid went out for sports odds were that he would end up on an All Star team like even I did or/and a championship one like an acquaintance of mine did.

Even on the rougher side of town a kid could have a motorized bicycle, basketball hoop and a large backyard swimming pool. All of this was in addition to the kid's drum set and puppy. The latter required a decent report card as perhaps it should have.

Of course there was a certain amount of stressful pressure to keep up with the Jones'. Even I ended up a member of an expensive swim club after initially being the guest of a girlfriend.