My grandpa signed Chris, Brad, and me up for baseball. My grandma
hated the idea, because it would cut into our Kingdom Hall time if we
had a game or practice or Tuesday or Thursday. I really appreciate my
grandpa doing that because I loved baseball. But up until that point, I
had never played on an actual team before. We would have to go to a "try
out" to see what team we would be picked on. In Oil City, there is only
one park with three baseball fields to play on, unlike large cities that
I'm guessing have several dozen. There were three groups for placing
players, excluding the T-ball kids. H you were 13-15, you played Senior
League on the big field. If you were younger than that, you played in
either Little League or in Minor League if you weren't quite as good
to be on Little League yet. You could be the same age as Little League
kids. But in the Minors, every other inning, your coach would pitch to
you instead of an opposing pitcher. In Little League, it was just straight
kids versus kids, and that's where I was destined to be. I was really good
at neighborhood baseball, and I knew that once I was given the chance,
I would shine in Little League.
    The day of the tryout my brothers and I were excited to go out and
show what we had in the few brief seconds we got. All the coaches from
both Little and Minor Leagues were there, and how it went was basically
the Little League coaches would pick all the standouts and if they had a

much room for activities. ''You can swiiiim and play basketballllll and go
to the gaaaaame room," I said, with each last word drawn out for that
extra little emphasis on how fun it was. The day he decided to take us, I
was watching MTV (back when they played videos), and he said, ''Well,
lets go see what this YMCA is all about." I didn't want to get up right then
but he made me.
    Later on that summer we were once again signed up for the week
long summer camp. When we got there Chris, Brad, and I all went to the
same camp site and got a tent together. Mter we got settled in we went to
find the first thing to do. We ran into my friend David Stover and invited
him to be the fourth member of our tent. All of us then decided to go
down to the canoes and paddle around the giant lake for fun but also
for cash as well. There had been a rumor going around that there was a
turtle in the lake with a red "S" painted on its shell and that if you caught
it and brought it back to shore you would get five hundred dollars. We
all talked about what we would spend our cut on, and my choice was
simple that year's Street Commandos. I just knew those shits would be
hot. Not, I was getting Jordan's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. David and
I grabbed a canoe, strapped on life jackets, got our paddles and we were
off. We paddled in perfect harmony as if we did this on a regular basis
and were making great head way.
    The other grandpa thing to do was save money on bills anyway he
knew how. Turn off lights in the daytime. Unplug stuffwhen you're not
using it. By far the weirdest one was what got to become our daily shower
routine. Adding five kids will make a water bill go up, I guess, and he
was determined to put a halt to that. He thought we took too long for a
shower and so he would come monitor us from outside the tub. "Time's
up," he would yell, letting you know you were done whether you were or
not. When that wasn't enough, he upped the ante by timing us with the
water on and we would then get wet and get the washcloth soapy. Then
he would actually reach in with his hand and turn off the water. It's weird
to be showering and see a hand suddenly come through and fumble
with the water handles, cutting you off like someone who bombed at the
Apollo. We would have to wash with the soapy rag, and when we said we
were clean, he would turn the water back on to rinse off for maybe thirty
seconds or so, and then it'd be shut off again. Again, it was not so funny
then, but is hilarious now. He was a great man.
    There was an old gravel and sand pit just above our house called the
"Sand Banks." This area was used for digging and dumping sand and
things in the 1970s and also used for riding dirt bikes and four-wheelers
if you were fortunate enough to have one. We used it as a means to ride
bicycles down and to play war in and around. In the winter, the snow
covered the hills enough to have a steep sled riding place. Right beside
our house was a gas line that was kept up maintenance wise by the city
until Scott got the genius idea it was his land too and began cutting it
with our mower. An especially dumb move since the grass was very tall
and full of large rocks. My grandparents' plot was right next door and
we would often play football and tennis ball in the open yard, which ran
beside our driveway as well as the driveway that the old house once had.
It would usually be a two on two with Joey and Chris always taking on
Brad and myself.
    I was by far better than all of them combined at that particular time
so, of course, we never lost at anything. The playground which served as
the birthplace to my "Catch" alongside Damien a few years prior was right
down the street about two minutes away. We would go to the playground
and along with Joey, John Stone, Mike Wilson, Rick Copley, and a few
others we would play basketball, football, or tennis ball in the open field
that was beside the court. Scott worked as a machinist in the town of
Pleasantville about fourteen miles away and every night without fail he
would say "Connie, I have about twenty-three hundred pieces that need
done by tomorrow, now I have to be up and out by four in the morning."
Every last time, we would be awakened and sent outside about seven
or eight, and he'd still be in the bed asleep. School was approaching,
and we would now be going to I-Iasson l-Ieights Elementary instead of
Seventh Street Elementary.