I have some very vivid memories of my childhood, but some of the summer memories that I’m sure will stay with me forever are the numerous weekends spent at “Sports Days”. These were weekend long events in which the Men’s baseball teams from in and around the host town entered into a 2 day fastball tournament.
In the early going my Dad played with the Bellegarde Raiders, as did any man old enough to swing a bat at a fastball you could barely see. All of my friends’ fathers were involved with the team, and there was a time that they were very good, and very competitive.
The day started around 8 A.M. on Saturday and used the entire sports grounds. Every person in the community had their jobs and shifts. My grandfather called the play by play from the sound truck. Other men his age handed out quarters to children who retrieved foul balls and homeruns. Tending to the beer garden was obviously the preferred assignment. High school kids were given shifts for burger flipping and snack sales, under the watchful eye of someone’s mom as was the norm.
There were several diamonds and they all had different games going on, from Ladies Fastball to slow pitch, the place was buzzing. The grounds were occupied with children covered in spilled pop, sticky candy all over their faces, always with ball gloves in hand.
My role in the sports days was to collect foul balls and collect the rewards until I could buy junk. And buy junk I did. Any one from Bellegarde would tell you that that young Perreaux kid sported an orange moustache (from orange pop) just about the entire summer. It was kind of my trademark I guess.
When Bellegarde hosted the event it was always a full community effort to implement everything from the entry gates, to the horse rides, to the vending shack or even the sound booths for the diamonds. The regular contributors could always be counted on; the fathers of many of my best friends from childhood always answered the call. It was community spirit that put these things on. Looking back I realize how very special it was to be a part of a small town like that.
I feel that I grew up with the community watching me, looking out for me so to speak, there was never a house in the hamlet that I couldn’t knock on the door of and be welcomed by whomever be on the opposite side, though my shy nature hindered it. Me and my pals always pitched in and did our part, usually to little reward other than the fact that we spent the day with our Dad’s and friends helping out where we could. Truth be told; a few refreshments may have been shared among us.
By the time I was 12 years old we lived in the hamlet itself and our house was about 200 feet from the ballpark. It was an easy journey to get there for whatever time we liked and we could usually beat the traffic in. By the time we had arrived the cars were starting to roll in; a few volunteers had arrived and were fussing about with their designated duties. In the excitement I almost didn’t realize that the weather looked far less promising than I had imagined it would be. The rain started about 30 seconds later.
It just so happened that this was my father’s baby, he was the head of the committee that year (the men took turns at the helm organizing and tasking the duties), and I remember the look of disappointment on his face when the local radio news announced it: “The Bellegarde Sports day has been cancelled due to rain”.
Little Jeremy’s orange moustache would not develop that day, and of all the sports days ever held in Bellegarde; this one I remember most, because it never happened.
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4 comments:
I think it would have been funnier if you had said that there "wasn't a house in town where you couldn't knock on the door and ask for the use of the facilities for an emergency cruncheroo..." Which leads me to ask, did you ever... ?
(This is probably not the comment you wanted on the first post after your coming out party below... oops)
Well, allow me to field that one...
Once while playing in the schoolyard, the proverbial prairie dog was peek a booing and I had to make a mad dash to the nearby home of the nuns. They welcomed me in, I made my business and ran out without even a word. I had deposited pure evil into the gentle pristine porcelain of some holy women, I have never in my life spoken of it, not ever... until now.
Oh for the love of simpler times eh buddy. My own personal memory from the fabled Bellegarde sports day occurs at a slightly later age, say 16 or so. Bellegarde sports day has evloved to include my youger brothers hardball team, of which i spent a few seasons as a coach. Now my memory is somewhat fuzzy on the details of the "how" end of things, since i wasn't actually there when it happened and i didn't actually find out about it until the next morning. I seems that our hobit like principal had experienced some vehicular misplacement issue when his "Geo" metro had been moved from the street, to right smack in between his house and the neighbors hedge. Best part? not running parallel to said house and hedge, no, but dragged(lifted) sideways to form a beautiful aerial "I". Little Frodo was quite unhappy and on this, the last day of school, he and his little hands we're out to ring someone's neck. Mine specifically. He had a list of "facts and witnesses" that he said proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that i was, not only the mastermind, but sole perpotrator in this evlish scheme. 4:00 he thundered,(well as much as the little guy could anyway) that was the time of my crime, witneses, ranging from the neighbors to a local farmer who drove by, to the child who lived cross the street. As I sat and listened to the accusations I bega to laugh. For all his "facts and Witnesses" ready to hang me, all i had was a ball team(I was coaching at 4:00), a 2nd base umpire(the farmer that drove by) and the child across the street(he was pitching that game). I left his office laughing while he kicked his little feet in a tantrum. But as I left i couldnt help but wonder, who? Who was the master schemer who had put this brilliant plan together. I needed look no further than out the doors of the school, where I found my answer. Bob, Bert, Killer and yes, you're Happy Gapper there, drinning from ear to ear, knowing what had transpired, knowing that I had an airtight alibi and knowing that until that very moment, I had no idea that they we're to blame.
Yes many things happened at the Bellegarde sports day, but my favorite memory is the one that served to start my nickname is some parts.
Geo.
I hae no connection the above mentionned events, nor do I condone the manual parking of tiny vehicles driven by garden gnome like Pricipals with his funny red beard what with his storming around the yard the morning after discovering the precarious parking job of their family vehicle done with only the best of intentions for the sake of security.
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