Young reader connects with
FOOTBALL HERO
T
he temperature dipped a bit last week and it rained, leaving behind something I look forward to every year, the smell of football. Though it’s not quite football weather yet, the sound of helmets clacking (yes, they still let them hit one other occasionally) at our practice field this week takes me back to my youth, to a time when barefoot boys chased one another around front yards blanketed with cold St. Augustine grass, grappling and churning as five or six tried to pull down the one who was tightly holding on to a well-worn, leather football. My love for football began through a series of events that happened when I was a first grader in 1961 Sequestered in a single hallway, first graders rarely left the classroom, except to march down the hall to the cafeteria for lunch. One day, my teacher needed to send a message to the office. It was just down the hall, and she often trusted a student to deliver her notes. On this particular occasion I was chosen. I never got to do this. I was elated! Note in hand, I proudly walked out of the room, much to the chagrin of Carol and Julia, two girls regularly chosen for such tasks. Seeing the looks on their faces was especially pleasing as it seemed to me that their main objective daily was to notify our teacher anytime they thought I was doing something wrong. I walked in the main office, handed the note off to the hand reaching down over the counter. Mission accomplished, I turned and walked out. That’s when I noticed something I had never seen before – another hallway. Before I knew it, I was walking down a long, empty hallway with no doors or classrooms. Finally, I came upon an open door, peeked in, and saw a sight that I still vividly remember. Every square foot of wall space, every cabinet … held books! I could already read and I knew that a library was the magical place books came from. I walked in, turned right past rows of books until one book, sitting atop a shelf, caught my eye. On the cover was a football player punting the ball. I read the title, Doak Walker, Three Time All-American. I sat on the floor, opened the book and began reading. Back in the classroom, Carol 10
and Julia were asking Mrs. Simpson about me. Concerned, she walked down to the office to check. The secretary told her I had been gone a good fifteen minutes. Mr. Gooch, the principal, was notified and soon the entire staff was looking for me. When they found me, I was halfway through chapter two. Mrs. Simpson saw me and her response was not a pretty sight. She grabbed my cheeks between her thumb and fingers and pinched as hard as she could, jerking me to my feet. I felt like my eyes were about to pop out of my head when, to the rescue came … the librarian! She said, “Don’t you dare chastise that little boy – he just wants to read, and that’s a wonderful thing.” The librarian took me by the hand and led me over to her desk. She scribbled something and then turned to me and said, “Here is your library card. Typically, you don’t get one until you’re in the third grade, but because you love to read, I’m going to let you have one. You can check out books anytime you’d like.” So I asked, “Can I check out this book?” I followed Mrs. Simpson back down the hall, proudly carrying my newly checked-out book. I made sure Carol and Julia saw it when I walked in. I finished my book about Doak Walker a couple of days later and stopped by the library. I was told I could actually check out two books, so I found another book, and also checked out Doak Walker, Three Time All-American again. In fact, I kept that book checked out until I left that elementary school five years later. If Anna Living Magazine
you looked at that library card, there was only one name – mine – on every line, because when it was due, I checked it out again. I practically had that book memorized. A few years ago I drove by my elementary school and couldn’t resist – I stopped and went in. After hearing my story, principal led me down to the library. I had chills as I walked into the room that stood as a major point of demarcation in my life. I searched for my beloved book. In my mind I had envisioned finding it, opening the front cover and finding a worn card with my faded signature on every line, But Doak Walker, Three Time All-American was nowhere to be found. He recommended I check used book sites, and after a long search, I finally found a copy. For a book published in the fifties, it was in good shape. I immediately read it, and every year I pull it down from a shelf and read it again. In fact, I read it again this week, because when the weather cools a bit and the smell of fresh grass fills the air, and boys and men dream of tackling and touchdowns, that’s what you do. UNCLE SPIDER calls North Texas home, but has traveled all over the world, seeking adventures that might make for a good story. He’s also one of the owner/ operators of the GARHOLE in Westminster. Stop by and see him there, or email him at spider@garhole.net.
