Man Child Part 3

First grade taught me many things, but one of the most important things I learned was to be aware of larger forces on this planet that can do bodily damage to you.  The man child was one of these forces.  He wasn't a mean kid or bully, just a big ole burly bull of a guy rumbling through life.  It was best for the fat little kid like me to avoid the potential damage he caused.  Being in close proximity to the man child was like running across a battleground or trying to give a pedicure to a rhinoserus.  Through my first couple of years I learned to watch my step and avoid pain during recess.

When third grade rolled around... things changed drastically at recess.  The school combined the third graders with the fourth graders for outside play.  This was a good thing, in that it placed the man child in an environment of kids closer to his size and strength.  Okay... I admit... high school kids would not have been closer to his size and strength, but combining the grades seemed to help the situation.  Football pretty much became outlawed by our new PE teachers.  The whole tackle football thing was getting way out of hand.  The best thing they would let us play was kick ball.  So we all made the most of it.

Need I say... the man child, with legs that somewhat resembled Steinway Grand Piano legs (only with hair) excelled at kick ball.  Kick ball was played with those big pink rubber balls typically used for dodgeball (also outlawed), because you could kick them farther (yes... a juiced up ball was important then just as it is now in baseball, golf, etc.) even I was putting 'em into the outfield.  The man child was putting his kicks into orbit... rounding the bases while we chased the ball across the street and into nearby vacant lots across Hankerson Street.  I'm pretty sure one of his kicks bounced through the vacant lot, over a fence and into the parking lot of Der Wienershnitzel (now known a Wienerland).  When the man child would kick the ball, the compression of his foot hitting the ball would make this pinging sound.  Then the ball would take off like it was launched from Cape Canaveral.  No matter how far back we put our outfielders... he still kicked it over them.

During one kick ball game I found myself being the server, which is the same as a pitcher in baseball.  Only... in kick ball the kicker has the option to request a certain type of roll (smooth, bouncing, etc.). 

As the man child strutted up to the plate he pointed at me and ordered... "Roll me a Baby-Bouncer!".  I gulped... realizing this meant he was really going to launch this last kick of recess.  Also... I was only 25 or 30 feet away from him.  So I obliged, serving up a near perfect Baby-Bouncer.  Unfortunately the ball rolled a little toward first base.  The man child typically pulled the ball to the left side.  As he attacked the ball there was an unbelievably louder pinging sound than I have ever heard.  In a milli-second the ball became bigger than life launching straight toward my face.

As the ball hit me in the face I somehow managed to get both hands up on it.  Actually I'm pretty sure my arms were pushed up because my feet were lifted off the ground and I was once again parallel to the earth with a three or four foot cushion of air under me.  I landed several feet back... orange dirt fanning up from under me... with the ball possibly permanently affixed to my face.  But... I had held on and kept the ball from hitting the ground... the man child was OUT!

Silence covered the kick ball field.  Half the kids were amazed that I had actuall caught one of the man child's kicks... the other half were pretty sure I was dead.  In today's world three kids would have already dialed 911 or Lloyd James Funeral Home on their cell phones.  I got up realizing I was alive... and seeing the man child's amazed response of being out for the first time in his life... realized I had just done the impossible.  As I brushed the dirt off, a fourth grader finally broke the silence and said... "Hey... nice catch, Fats!"

This event seemed to break my string of bad luck and injuries from the man child.