As T-Bone Sees It

I suppose that pick-em-ups wasn't a whole lot different than sandlot football, except that none of us knew where to find a good sandlot, not to mention even knowing what one would look like if we did find it. Our normal venue was a nearby field, the ballpark, which usually featured a hard layer of ice over it to keep things a little more interesting. Maybe it had something to do with the pro-football playoffs beginning right around New Years or else it was because the toys Santa had brought were beginning to lose their novelty, along with their battery strength. Whatever the reason, pick-em-ups football had become something of a New Year's Day tradition for us, although a short-lived one.

One of the highlights to be found in a game of pick-em-ups football was exactly as the name implied. We were never quite sure whom we could pick-up to play. We usually had to start making the rounds early in the day and work hard at recruiting before having enough players for a large-scale game. I distinctly recall one New Year's that Timmy, Weber and I decided to recruit as many people as possible and have the biggest game of pick-em-ups football that had ever been played at the ballpark. We planned to organize the mother of all pick-em up football games. As the three of us walked along the road, Timmy began to formulate a plan.

"Let's just go everywhere and see how many people we can get to play. The games are always more fun when we have more people!"

"Ah' reckon' we could even get grown-ups to play!" added Weber. "Grown-ups might like pick-em-ups, too, 'specially when they hear about us having free Kool-Aid!" Weber was referring to the customary pitcher of Kool-Aid we always made prior to beginning each game. Usually, we couldn't afford to splurge on the big pack that included the sugar, so we had to settle for unsweetened Kool-Aid, which I was skeptical about having any endearing affect over the players, grown-ups or kids. One reason being the water fountain that we used to make the Kool-Aid spouted out a fresh rusty stream of orange colored water. Timmy, citing his father as an authority, claimed this water was harmless and actually better for us because it gave our bodies minerals. While Weber and I went along with him, I wasn't so sure that an outsider would find the health benefits greatly appealing.

"I bet we could find lots of people right over there at K-Mart!" offered Timmy, pointing across the street towards the busy parking lot of the large department store. We proceeded to walk across the street and enter the store, figuring it was worth a try. As we ambled past the service desk, Weber suddenly stopped in his tracks, fascinated by the employee who was using a microphone to announce a blue-light special sale.

"Attention K-Mart Shoppers, in just five minutes we will be having a blue-light special clearance in our home furnishings department. Look for the flashing blue light to find big savings on bed sheets and linens. As always, thank you for shopping at K-Mart!" announced the woman, before releasing the black button and setting the microphone back down on the desk.

Apparently, her sales pitch was effective, judging by the shoppers who were hurrying past us to find the discounted goods. Employees, including the one who made the announcement, were following the shoppers towards the sales area in order to be of assistance. Weber saw the microphone available and, before Timmy or I realized it, began making a unique announcement of his own.

"We'll be havin' a big game of pick-em-ups football over at the ballpark today and y'alls are invited to come an' play! Just wear old clothes, cause it'll be tackle pick-em-ups. As always, thank y'all for coming to play pick-em-ups!" boomed the intercom speakers. Weber's hillbilly dialect flooded the entire store, until a disgruntled employee came and roughly yanked the microphone out of his hands. Timmy and I took this as our cue to be on our way. Weber quickly followed behind us. As we reached the parking lot, the manager came out of the exit door.

"I don't ever want to see you delinquents come into this store again unless it is with your parents!" he shouted.

"Ah' reckon' we don't much care to see y'all anymore either, unless y'all want to come play pick-em-ups football!" returned Weber, in a tone that registered more sincere than defiant.

"Hey, I know! We could stop by Big Ma's Keg Corral and see if your Uncle Broomsticks is in there. He would probably play!" suggested Timmy. He did have a point. Not that my Uncle Broomsticks was very athletic, but he would, on occasion, join us for a game of football. Usually he would insist on playing quarterback, throwing the ball with his right hand while precariously protecting a 16-ounce can of beer in his left.

"But what if Big Ma is working?" asked Weber. Big Ma was a large woman who owned the bar. Rumor had it that the only way she could get through the doorway of the bar was by generously coating the door frame with grease before holding a moon pie on the other side, which would lure her to run and squeeze through at a high speed. Big Ma also refused to let any of us inside, ever since my Uncle Broomsticks rigged her pinball machine so we could play free for a whole month.

"I'll just announce our game from the door." answered Timmy, before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Sounds of billiard balls cracking and drunken cursing could be heard from outside where Weber and I stood.

"There's gonna be a huge game of pick-em-ups football at the ball park in forty-five minutes! Whoever feels like coming can just show up! There'll be free drinks!" shouted Timmy. Most of the patrons appeared to be oblivious to his announcement, until they heard his last two words.

"Free drinks! Did that kid say something about free drinks?" asked one large biker type fellow as Timmy saw Big Ma approaching and quickly stepped back outside. "Big Ma is coming, all of her!"

"What did I tell you boys about loitering around here?" screamed Big Ma.

"Feets, do yer stuff!" shouted Timmy, as we ran down the street.

"Timmy, why did you tell them guys we had free drinks?" I asked, after we rounded a corner and stopped to get our breath.

"Well, we got that Kool-Aid Weber mixed up and left at the park, right?" asked Timmy.

"Yep, ah' mixed it up fresh with water from the creek just this morning." assured Weber, beaming with pride not unlike that of a new father when asked about his baby.

"That stuff doesn't even have sugar, and, besides, those guys are going to think you meant beer." I argued.

"Ah' reckon' maybe we shouldn't give 'em a glug until they agree to play some pick-em-ups." advised Weber. "Besides, beer ain't got no sugar, either! Hey, isn't that the Reverend Benzer up there about to go into the church? Hey Rev'rend!" shouted Weber, waving his arms.

"That's the Reverend all right, I can always tell him by his peaceful smile," observed Timmy. "My dad went to one of his services and said he ought to change his name from Reverend to Neverend."

"Hey there, boys, what are we up to? Did you all have a Merry Christmas?" asked Reverend Benzer, after approaching to exchange handshakes.

"It was pretty good. I really do believe in Santa now, 'cause he brought me a fishin' pole this year." answered Weber. "Y'all wanna come play pick-em-ups football with us at the ballpark?"

"Football? Uh, well, I'll tell you what. Let me see how long this meeting lasts and if it ends soon enough, I'll stop by and throw a few passes."

"Alright! We'll be there, Nev, ehr, Reverend!" declared Weber, as Reverend Benzer smiled and waved us a cheerful farewell before turning to enter the church building.

After scouring the neighborhood for potential players, we had acquired more than a dozen players. Most of these were friends and classmates. It appeared that our New Year's game of pick-em-up football was going to be a memorable one. I suppose it was, too, but for different reasons.

"Wow! Look at all the players we got!" exclaimed Timmy, as we finally approached the ballpark. It appeared that, in addition to kids, we had quite a mix of adults waiting to play, too. Apparently, all of the gruff clientele from Big Ma's had decided to come. There were even a few Harleys parked beside the playing field.

"Hey, you kids! I thought you said there was gonna be free drinks here?" asked one large man who looked very strong and very disappointed.

"Uh, check on that bench there. Ah' mixed up a jug of drinks and y'all can have a glug, but not 'til y'all play some pick-em-ups."

"What is this, some kind of joke?" asked the man, while holding Weber's plastic jug of Kool-Aid up to the sun for closer inspection of the tadpoles within. "We thought there was going to be a keg or something, not this sea-monkey crap!"

"Y'all still want to play football?" asked Weber.

"Yeah, I'll play, kid, for a little bit, I suppose." answered the biker, before lighting a cigarette.

After choosing two team leaders and getting all of the players selected for each side, it was finally time to play some football. There were nearly twenty players on each team, including bikers, curious shoppers from K-Mart, lots of kids and even Reverend Benzer. It was going to be a fine game.

"Okay, who has a ball?" asked Timmy, anxious to kick off and begin playing. Forty some people stood looking at one another with blank expressions that all conveyed one thing; nobody had a football.

"Ah' reckon' we could just use mah' flannel shirt." offered Weber. "Ah'll just wrap it around this here rock!" He picked up a rock that was about half the size of a brick and rolled his shirt around it like a sleeping bag, tying the sleeves in a knot to finish the job. "See! This'll work!" he stated, offering the makeshift football for inspection. The biker held it and tossed it up and caught it with the same large hand.

"I suppose it'll have to do, kid. I'm not playing too long anyway. Alright, let's split up teams and kick off." Our teams moved to opposite sides of the large field. Because Reverend Benzer was the biggest player on our team, it was decided that he should be the one to kick off.

"Kick off? How am I supposed to kick a rock? Are you boys sure you don't want me to just go and get us a regular football?" he asked, holding the rock bundled up in Weber's shirt up in his hand while shaking his head and smiling in disbelief.

"Let's just try this, since everyone is ready to play. You can just throw it for the kick-off. There's no rule against throwing it instead of kicking." reassured Timmy. We proceeded to form a straight line, with Reverend Benzer in the middle. As he trotted a few steps forward and released a pass which sent the shirt sailing high into the air, our team began to sprint downfield. Apparently, Weber failed to tie the rock up properly, by the way the shirt unfurled from the rock once airborne. The shirt floated to the ground while the rock continued sailing high.

At this moment, Officer Mowery turned the corner and was nearing the ballpark in his patrol car, curious as to why such an odd mix of a crowd was congregated here. We began to shout and wave our arms at him, once it became evident that the trajectory of the large rock and the speed of his patrol car were on a perfect collision course. Within seconds the rock smashed right through the front windshield of his car. The sound of shattering glass filled the air.

"Oh my God!" yelled the biker. "Way to go, preacher! I have a warrant out on me already and now you go and do this" he exclaimed, before running across the field and climbing the barbed-wire fence. A few of the wary K-Mart shoppers were now running from the scene of the crime, as well. In fact, everybody seemed to be running, except for Reverend Benzer, who was running towards the police car with great concern. Fortunately, the rock sailed through the passenger side of the windshield and Officer Mowery appeared to be uninjured, although the surprise caused him to floor the gas and run into one of the parked motorcycles.

Timmy, Weber and I spent the rest of the afternoon down at the police station with Officer Mowery and Reverend Benzer. Officer Mowery had lots of questions he needed to get answers for and he seemed to think we could supply what he was looking for. Reverend Benzer answered many of the questions and we, for the most part, just sat and nodded our heads in agreement. Ultimately, Reverend Benzer agreed to pay for the damaged windshield and apologized for the incident profusely. Officer Mowery, in true New Year's spirit, told him not to worry about the windshield. He suggested that the money be used to buy us a regular football, instead. He didn't want our New Year's tradition of pick-em-ups football to ever threaten his life again in the future. We appreciated his gesture and made a note to stop by the police station the next year, on New Year's Day, just to see if he might want to join us for pick-em-ups.

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