Sophomore Year Then 25 Years Later

Masonic Temple/Building Huron, SD

More synapses connected as I strolled down memory lane of that infamous sophomore year. Never a fast learner, I decided to try sports again in the spring of that year. I played golf and had played for several years. I wasn’t a great golfer, but I was okay. So…I thought…why not join the golf team, they traveled, they were cool, and, how hard could it be. Well, I found out.

The golf team practiced a couple of miles north of town at the Huron Country Club. This was a bit of a challenge since I didn’t have a car. After school let out I would catch a ride home or walk the mile or so, borrow mom’s car and head for the course. Coach “H,” a very tall man, was the golf coach. Now, I liked him…as much as I could like a teacher and a coach. He didn’t yell at kids in school, he seemed to be a polite man, and he was respected as a basketball coach. So for me, compared to Coach W, Coach H was a Godsend. Except he didn’t want me to be late for practice. When I arrived the first day, he told me that I had to do a lap around the golf course before I could begin. I was the only sophomore “trying out” for the golf team and the only one without a car to take to school. He said perhaps I could hitch a ride from one of the upperclassmen. No one offered. I must have been a pariah.

The next day, same thing, ten minutes late, do the lap. The Huron course wasn’t a long one but it still required almost an hour to run. When I’d finished running, the coaching part of the day’s session was over, the other kids were out playing. And, no coach.

Day three. Ten minutes late again. Coach said to do a lap. I told him that wasn’t helpful since when I finished running I received no coaching. He suggested that if I cut my hair, perhaps he’d be more flexible. And that, was my last foray into organized high school sports.

However, that reminded me of another golf story, one that took place twenty years later. I had an Air Force assignment to a year long military school in Montgomery, Alabama. Most of the classes were over by 2:00 p.m. and we didn’t have any organized after-class activities. But then I discovered that our air base had two outstanding golf courses. Several of us formed a group and played golf every single weekday. I was the best golfer I’d ever been and would ever be…still not that good, just good for me. Then, in the spring, things turned dark.

The leader of our “seminar group” of twelve or so officers decided that his seminar (me and colleagues) would enter a softball league and tournament.

“No. No. No.” I told him. “You have no right to require us to attend a non-syllabus activity on our own time!” He went all military on me and said that yes, this was his requirement and he was in charge. I wasn’t happy.

I’d never been good at baseball or softball. I could hit a ball okay but when I would go to throw the ball, the connection between my brain and my arm fails; where the ball would go is completely random. I do NOT make this up and it is not hyperbole. I can go out today to throw the dog’s ball and God only knows where it will land. So not only was this softball thing going to encroach on my personal time, it was also going to encroach on my coolness in front of my seminar mates. But, I had no option.

Our seminar leader made a rule that everyone had to play even though we typically had a couple of extra folks. He always put me in right field where there was seldom activity. I’d go to the field, stare at the batters, walk back to the bench. And then I’d do the same. And then again. Boring. Then I thought, why not make something good come out of this time in the field?

I went to my car, got out my pitching wedge and three golf balls. The next time I was sent to right field I took them with me and practiced my short pitch. The seminar leader was apoplectic. And, of course, the opposing team all tried to hit the ball to right field. I however, was relentless and would not give up my diversion. I was never ordered to not practice my golf in right field and so didn’t stop. I was only put in for one inning after the first time so it was okay. Some people actually hit it all the way out to me but I could field without a glove, and, because the entire infield was in front of me when I threw the ball, I had a reasonable chance of getting close to a person with the throw. And perhaps the second baseman played back and right a bit.

Me and sports. Not a perfect match. Me and the military. Hmmmm. Ever see the show M.A.S.H.?