"Play Ball"

Neighborhood ball games were once as universal as neighborhoods. Traveling extensively throughout different parts of the world, this writer has personally seen, in almost every corner of the world, gangs of neighborhood boys and girls playing sports of some kind or another. Soccer, football, baseball, cricket, basketball, field hockey, and softball, to name just a few.

No matter how poor or backward the culture, playing ball seems to be a part of the human bloodline.

In modern times, particularly in America, organized ball seems to have taken over. Fancy sports complexes, professional grade uniforms and equipment, and trophies for even the lowest achiever on the team have become all too commonplace. Aeons ago, it was only the neighborhood kids that got involved in the "pick-up" games. But, with organized sports, entire families become absorbed. A good friend recently spoke of a Saturday she spent shagging balls in the outfield for the softball team of her eight year old grandchild(ren) (which sounds, most sincerely, like a wonderful way to spend a Saturday).

Some ball teams get so serious about their past-time that they travel hundreds of miles to compete in grueling all-weekend tournaments. And, if this were not enough, many parents count on grooming their kids through ball as a possible ticket to an athletic scholarship.

One would have to admit that the old neighborhood ball game has now evolved into a really big business.

In years gone by, however, the process was much simpler.

Every neighborhood seemed to have a place to play. A yard, a field, a spare lot, a driveway or even the middle of the street. The necessary equipment always seemed to come from somewhere. Balls, bats, gloves, sticks, or whatever else was needed - somebody always had.

This writer's father grew up in the 1920's in a farming community in Northwest Atlanta. An old corn field was their stadium. No one had gloves. A strong hickory limb was fashioned as a bat. Old socks, rags, and flour sacks were bound tightly and stitched by hand into a makeshift baseball. Pieces of cardboard, wood, tin, garbage can lids, or even old throw rugs were used as bases.

When the sport was basketball, the "court" could be any flat surface, whether driveway, street or yard. The backboard was a sawed-off piece of plywood that was nailed to the front of a garage, or nearby tree. The rim did not always have a net, and was sometimes bent and rusted. In some cases, the basketball that was used was full of holes, which were plugged with tire inner tube patches.

In addition to one-on-one contests, these half-court basketball games included shot-making contests known as, "H-O-R-S-E", or its abbreviated version, "P-I-G." There was also, "Around the World," and other made-up-on-the-spot games.

When baseball was the focus, any number of variations were fair game. For instance, one neighborhood boy in Riverside had a "dog lot" on the back of his parents' property. This fenced area was approximately seventy square feet. It was just big enough for a small baseball diamond to be fashioned. There was not enough room in the dog lot for infielders or outfielders - only the pitcher and batter. A wooden bat, the players' personal ball glove, four pieces of tin for bases, and a tennis ball were the only pieces of equipment needed.

Any ball hit within the dog lot had to be fielded by the pitcher. If the batter pounded a single, double, or triple, the pitcher fielded the ball and tried to get to a base before the runner. If the runner safely reached base, he loudly declared, "ghost man!" He then returned to the plate to take another turn at bat. Most of the time, the only two possible results for an at-bat were either a home run, knocked far over the dog lot fence, or a strike-out.

The neighborhood boys took turns playing the winner of the previous dog lot ball game. At the end of the summer, the two boys who had the most wins played the, "Dog Lot World Series."

This writer has a DLWS Championship "Ring" from one of these unforgettable years.

The dog lots and sand lots and back yards and community streets are often the initial training ground for promising, young athletes. Sometimes, that training is "taken to the next level" and made even better later on by the intervention of a great coach. This is an even greater blessing when it happens early in a young person's life.

Mr. S.D. Hendrix (the initials stood for "Spright Dowell") taught 7th grade at Chattahoochee Elementary School on Peyton Road in Riverside during the 1960's-70's. In those days, there was no Middle School or Junior High in the Atlanta School System. There was grades K-7 and 8-12. Period.

7th graders were the big, bad, "Seniors" of the Elementary School scene. They served in lofty positions of responsibility, such as the cherished work of being a AAA Crossing Guard. These students, usually male, wore white harnesses and badges that identified them as "official" AAA Crossing Guards. And, they "directed" traffic at major thoroughfares where school children crossed. Looking back, it is amazing to realize that the world was, then, humane enough to allow a 7th grade child to actually direct traffic at busy intersections.

Mr. S.D. Hendrix and Mr. Paul Mathern were the only two 7th grade teachers at Chattahoochee Elementary. Which meant that they were also, by default, the coaches of any sports teams fielded by the school. Mr. Mathern was younger and more athletic than Mr. Hendrix, and was left handed. He could throw a football through a tire from about fifty feet away, and did so with great velocity. He performed this feat many times at the school's annual Halloween Carnivals - just to show off.

When afternoon recess came to Chattahoochee Elementary, Mr. Hendrix and Mr. Mathern rounded up the boys for a ball game. The girls would play kick ball, or swing on the monkey bars. Usually, one of the female teachers from a lower grade would oversee their recess time.

Mr. Hendrix and Mr. Mathern would choose the teams. There was football from the Fall through the dead of Winter, and softball the rest of the year. Mr. Hendrix and Mr. Mathern would be the opposing quarterbacks during football, and the opposing pitchers during softball. They were excellent motivators, and fierce competitors with each other. At some point during one of the football games, Mr. Mathern would allow one of the students to spell him at quarterback, so that he could run a few pass routes. Or, Mr. Hendrix would come in to bat during a softball game. For about forty-five minutes each afternoon, these two fine gentlemen became 7th graders once again. They often had more fun than the students.

Too, these were teaching moments. These two outstanding men taught the players how to run pass routes, how to block an opponent fairly and without causing injury to either, how to throw particular pitches with a softball, and how to hold a bat for bunting, hitting chop singles, or for an all-out, clearing-the-bases, home run swing.

It was Mr. Hendrix that took this priceless mentoring to an even deeper level. He was the one who coached the Gra-Y football, basketball, and softball teams.

The Gra-Y Sports Program was an extension of the local YMCA. They provided equipment and other amenities to elementary schools for the establishment and sponsorship of inter-school competition. The YMCA assistance was very basic, and certainly did not provide salaries, expense reimbursements, or other remuneration for those who coached or organized teams at the local school level.

Thankfully, men like S.D. Hendrix did not do it for the money. For him, there was, evidently, a much greater reward.

Mr. Hendrix drove a red Mercury Comet. He would go around to each boy's house whose parents could not provide transportation, and pick up his players. Mr. Hendrix was constantly ferrying car loads of 7th grade boys to ball fields, gyms, and other locations where these contests took place. "Buckle Up For Safety," was a farce when you were transporting ten 7th grade boys in car the size of a Mercury Comet.

After the games, Mr. Hendrix would take the car load of boys by a local convenience store and buy each one a "Slush Puppy," or "Slurpee," before depositing them safely back home at the end of the day.

Thank you, Mr. Spright Dowell Hendrix, for the time and attention you so unselfishly gave to all the young boys from Chattahoochee Elementary who played ball for you. You were our our teacher, our coach, our mentor, and our friend. You never got a trophy for your efforts. But, you never expected one. You made all the boys who played for you feel special. You taught us lessons that we'll never forget - just as we will never forget you.

Men like S.D. Hendrix and Mr. Paul Mathern were, and are, great examples to the young lads they taught. They were, and are, the epitome of what a neighborhood or school sports "program" should be.

These should be, first and foremost, a way to have fun. They should teach life lessons like sportsmanship and fair competition. They should help form a bond of friendship for players and coaches alike. And, should be done under the careful and caring eye of someone who has the betterment of his fellowman at heart. Winning would just be, "gravy on the biscuit."

Mr. Hendrix, you were all those things and so much more. You left an enduring memory in the hearts of many young men who came through your classes.

May God grant you His rest and peace.


"Well I'll Be John Brown"

- David Decker
  March 1, 2011