SPORTS

Competition awakens the animal from its sleep. Jesus rose from the dead because he refused to accept defeat. I grew up on the sandlots. We moved with the seasons. No matter the numbers, we could split ourselves into teams and play football, basketball and baseball.

Basketball was the easiest. Some of the greatest confrontations were one-on-one showdowns. It soon got around whether or not you could play ball. One-on-one was difficult in football and baseball, but two against two more than sufficed.

In football we created narrow but long fields that demanded all of one's running, passing and tackling abilities.

In baseball we had a variety of two-against-two games that included fast pitch against a wall, but our favorite required the batter to hit the ball out of the infield on a fly for a single. The teammates pitched to each other. On the opposing team one player played a deep short while the other played left field.

All fouls and balls hit to the right side of second base were outs. Each team had six outs per inning. A ball that rolled to the fence was a double, off the fence a triple and over the fence a homer. It was nothing but hitting and fielding. We played this game for hours.

These were creative solutions to appease our need for competition. Usually there were dozens of kids milling around waiting for someone to organize the games. These were neighborhood gatherings and there was an understanding that a sufficient number of participants would arrive by a certain time.

After school, on weekends and during vacations dads would be returning home from work and honk to their boys locked in their life-and-death struggles that were highlighted by harsh words and by bloody blows. One thinks of the many great athletes who as poor and working-class kids learned their craft without any organized instruction.

There was Little League, but my father didn't allow me to join until I was eleven. According to him, Little League had never produced any major league players. He had his beliefs. This was in the late fifties and early sixties. I don't know if there was any truth to his assertion at the time, but he relented. To his credit, however, his belief proved true in my case.

One made his mark in high school sports. There was no specialization. You played the big three. None of my friends picked up a golf club or a tennis racket. Peer pressure was too strong. Golf and tennis weren't masculine sports. Dad was 6'2'' although he was barely 150 pounds. He played the big three and carried a knee injury for the rest of his life from football.

I arrived in high school at 5'4" and and 105 pounds, much of the weight in a set of huge ears that caused me constant consternation. By the time I finished high school, I measured 5'10'' and weighed 175 pounds. I had earned a fair athletic reputation for myself. I started at wide receiver and strong safety, could pop twenty-foot jumpers as the number two guard and covered third and batted second.

There were several buddies who received scholarships to Pac Eight schools. I was happy when Sac State recruited me for football. I earned my stripes on special teams my freshman year and started the next three years at strong safety. I could hit with the best of them.

There are times when I wonder if the several concussions I suffered are precipitating mental problems, but I accept that we have burdens to bear and blaming football for my woes ain't the kind of thing a strong safety who thought of himself as a stud would do.