Sports

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Making good time going home
​from a good time

We took no vacations.

We had to make good time going home from a family gathering because we didn’t have a good time
taking vacations.

My father drove. My mother rode shotgun. I sat in the backseat, as a free-range child not constrained by a seatbelt because there was no seatbelt there. I counted things I saw out the window — cows, dogs, tractors and pheasants. I tried to see out-of-state license plates. I hoped all that counting would keep my mind off other concerns, but it didn’t.

“I’m hungry,” I whined. I wasn’t only the baby of the family, I was once the world’s youngest boy. I didn’t wear that crown long.

“Your mother made emergency sandwiches,”
said Dad.

I’d already eaten them. I said I was hungry in the hopes we’d stop someplace where I might use the bathroom. You can’t get anywhere if you don’t start somewhere, and life’s rules are vague.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” I didn’t want to get his nose out of joint. I tried to be shut-mouthed, but I couldn’t. I’d been on an all-expenses-paid package tour to Algona, Iowa, to an aunt’s house where I’d expressed awe of her automatic card shuffler. She gave it to me as a lovely parting gift, saying I’d be the first kid in my class to have one. I had drunk as much red Kool-Aid as possible at my aunt’s house. A recipe for disaster. Nature calls are distracting, yet concentrate the mind. There might be a cleanup required in the backseat aisle if we didn’t stop soon.

“Just hold it. There’s an outhouse at home,” he
replied sweetly.

That wasn’t comforting, waiting to use the dreaded back house, little house or biffy. My “holding it” skills were rickety.

“You should’ve gone before we left,” he added. He could be narrow-minded about things.

That would have put me in a humiliating light. “I’d have had to ask to use the bathroom. Everyone would have known what I was doing.”

“OK, at the next stop sign, get out and go.” Rest areas were cornfields in those days.

That wasn’t the answer I’d hoped to hear. The conversation began to loop. I still find it difficult to whittle the world down to the things I need.

“Don’t worry, we’ll all look the other way. You can take the flashlight.” Our flashlight was afraid of the dark.

It was raining. I watched raindrops roll down the rear window as the wipers screamed in agony on the windshield at the other end. My mother took my side and pleaded my case.

Dad was a good father. He always got my name right. Even a wonderful father is still a father, and fathers have their ways. Dad was a skillful driver, too. He could parallel park our land yacht of a Pontiac on the first try. I’m still attempting to complete my first try. My father refused to speed no matter how many cows required milking at home. He obeyed all traffic laws. He stopped, he yielded and he signaled his turns, even when his was a familiar, local car and everyone knew where and when he was turning. He obeyed traffic laws for the general welfare of everyone. The car had only enough power to run one of the two rear turn signal lights, held in place by vise grips.

The car could ride a little rough. It didn’t take potholes well. Neither did I. Dad successfully missed only one, the one so deep they held a fishing tournament there each year. It’s not a true pothole unless you can dive into it. 
 
You’d think a big car would have had a restroom, but it didn’t. I didn’t kick the back of Dad’s seat, but I considered using Dad’s beloved Stanley thermos bottle for something other than its designed purpose. I didn’t, for there be dragons.

I watched the cornfields we passed. They looked inviting.

We finally, finally, finally stopped. I used a gas station with its door locked and the key attached to a 50-pound anvil that had to be dragged to the door to open it. The restroom had just been cleaned 12 years earlier and was lit only by the ember of burning toilet paper. There was no line to the facility. Dad had to buy some snacks and a fingernail clipper to cover his perceived cost of the bathroom usage.

Did my father stop because he was full of concern for his baby boy?

​No, it was because his bladder was full. Dad had to go.

© Al Batt 2020

1. What pro football hall of famer amassed 14,101 rushing yards in his career with the New England Patriots and New York Jets from 1995-06?

2. Robert De Niro and Michael Moriarty starred in what 1973 film adaptation of a 1956 Mark Harris sports novel?

3. How many consecutive passes did Iowa Hawkeyes quarterback Chuck Long complete in a 1984 game vs. the Indiana Hoosiers to set an NCAA record?

4. What sport did Uruguayan teacher Juan Carlos Ceriani create in 1930 as an indoor, five-on-five version of soccer?

5. At what university did the NFL’s Watt brothers (J.J., T.J. and Derek) play college football?

6. What U.S. archer won two gold medals at the 1996 Summer Olympic Games in Atlanta?

​7. Former NBA player Cliff Robinson appeared on the 28th season of what reality TV competition series?

1. Curtis Martin.

2. “Bang the Drum Slowly.”

3. 22.

4. Futsal. 

5. The University of Wisconsin-Madison.

6. Justin Huish.

​7. “Survivor.”

© 2020 King Features Synd., Inc.

It feels wonderful to say Iowa football is back. We hope it’s back for the planned nine game season. The medical community and lingering COVID-19 will decide, in the long run, how much football and basketball will transpire. For now let’s think positive and hope for the best.

Here are some general thoughts as the Hawkeyes prepare for Purdue at West Lafayette on Saturday, October 24.

There’s a brand new quarterback in town. California kid Spencer Petras has a big body and a big arm connected to it. He broke most of Jared Goff’s passing records at Marin Catholic High School in the San Francisco Bay Area. Goff is doing quite well with the Rams these days and Petras has thrown ten career passes as a backup to Nate Stanley in two seasons. Petras has a lot of confidence packed in that 6’5”, 230 pound frame. Stanley threw for over 8,000 yards and 68 touchdowns primarily from the pocket. Petras can throw and run, move the pocket, get on the edge and take off if necessary. He can make all the throws and selected Iowa after decommitting from Oregon State due to a coaching change.

He loved the Hawkeye’s facilities, QB coach Ken O’Keefe and everything else about his visit. Growing up on the west coast allowed him to watch plenty of Big Ten football Saturday mornings. He has an affection for the legendary players and sold out stadiums of the conference and is excited to start his Iowa career after bunkering in all spring and summer as a “social hermit.”

Petras will have a gifted set of receivers to throw to, led by preseason All Big Ten and All America pick Ihmir Smith-Marsette. The Hawkeye’s defense will be solid again despite losing four starters to the NFL, most notably A.J. Epenesa. Tackle Jack Heflin, a grad transfer from Northern Illinois and the Mid America Conference defensive player of the year will help fill the void left by Epenesa.

Kicker Keith Duncan returns for his senior year as the country’s top field goal kicker and should be instrumental again in tight, end-of-game situations!

Go Hawks and game on!

​Speaking of game on, catch the Hawks at my new bar in the Millwork District. Gary Dolphin’s Iron Bar is just off the main lobby in the Novelty Iron Works building, 333 East 10th street. We’re scheduled to open Saturday October 24th. More on the historic building and the game plan in next months issue.

The Little Town We Couldn’t Find!

Maury, this is another one of those “crazy” things that happened to your Grandpa because of baseball. It’s about how we couldn’t find the town where the game was to take place!

We played approximately sixty games that summer and the only two day games were the 4th of July, (you remember- when we almost missed the train!) and this one – scheduled for a Sunday afternoon – in a little town called Festina. Semi-pro baseball was “wide open” in those days and the size of a town meant nothing as to how good their ball club might be. “Imported” players were very common and this little town had a real fine team.

As usual, Grandpa was driving the last of three cars to leave Dubuque. Festina, IA was a two-hour drive directly north. After driving for approximately two hours, Tom Schlueter (we called him “slush pump” because he played the trombone), our right fielder and “map reader,” informed us, as we entered a town, that we were too far north because this town was north of Festina on the map – by about fifteen miles! We immediately turned around, headed south and after a short time, expected to see a sign saying “Festina.” But, guess what, Maury, – we drove past the town for the second time! We did an abrupt U-turn and headed north again! It turned out this little town was about five miles east of the highway and, the county black top road leading there was marked by a ‘’very small” sign!

Tom, our left fielder Midge Delaney, our first baseman Merle Mathis and Grandpa arrived just minutes before game time, but we finally found that “little town!”

Interestingly, Grandpa visited recently with someone familiar with that area today, and I told him this story. And guess what, Maury. He said, after all these years the sign reading Festina, is still rather small and could easily be missed!

​Hope you enjoyed this.
Love, Grandpa.

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