Large and In Charge

Originally posted in mid-July, 2008.

Some of my favorite stories are told by my Dad, Steve. The stories he tells about his childhood, and his old neighborhood have a wonderful "Little Rascals" or "Sandlot" quality about them, but a bit more harsh. It's easy to listen to his stories with little to no thought of the repercussions or injuries that may have occurred; to just enjoy them for the humor.

This story took place sometime between 1967 and 1970, in our home town, Alton, Illinois. My Uncle Jim is about a year older than my Dad, so I'd guess they would have been about eleven and twelve at this time. To this day, my Uncle Jim is, without a doubt, the large-and-in-charge man of the family.

After a baseball game, a neighborhood baseball game... so we would have been, me and your Uncle Jim would have been... I don't know, eleven, twelve; twelve, thirteen, I'm not sure. This was in the old house over on East Doerre, the house we grew up in. We always played baseball with Darryl and Denny Hibbs, and you know, different people in the neighborhood. I think this particular time, a couple of the Surrey brothers, Karl Surrey, and... what's the older one's name? But, anyway, baseball game: quite often they would have a tendency to get heated up because someone would get into an argument about who cheated, you know, who didn't do what that should have, who threw the baseball into the ditch and didn't go get it. You know, Stuff like that.

And eventually, Uncle Jim and I went to our house and Hibbses came down, Denny and Darryl Hibbs. They had come down to the house, and somebody else was with them. I think one of the Surrey brothers was with them too, and we're having this argument out in the front yard, and the argument turned into a scuffle, you know? Just pushing back and forth, and stuff like that. Next thing I know, we're throwing punches out in the front yard.

The next thing I know, I was just getting beat up. I was like, "Where did my brother go?" You know? I was just getting beat up.

The next thing I know, they're falling off, you know? These guys are just like bmm.* They're not knocked to the ground necessarily, but they're no longer on me. And I finally look up, and there's your Uncle Jim standing there with his baseball bat, and he's just swinging this baseball bat around. He'd gone in the house and gotten his bat, and he was just swinging it at these guys.

But anyway, the fight ended with Darryl Hibbs kicking my bicycle. With that, I grabbed a hold of the baseball bat that your Uncle Jim had, and I started smashing spokes out of his bike. He hit my fender and put a big old dent in the fender of my bike, and I took out the spokes. But anyway, the cool part was Uncle Jim. It's like, I'm thinking, "Where in the heck is my brother?" You know? I'm getting the crap beat out of me. Next thing I know, these guys are just dropping like flies, and there's your Uncle Jim standing there with his baseball bat. Bmm! Bmm! It was pretty cool. Like I said, he just shows up. There he is: large and in charge.

I would love to one day hear this story from the perspective of any other person involved.

* "Bmm!" This is a noise that frequents my Dad’s stories. It is somewhere in between a "thud" and a "boom," but sounds more like a very short "pbum." I can think of no better way to describe it. It's placement in stories ranges from items and people falling over, to objects hitting people or other objects.