I limped into my annual physical yesterday, and my answers to a few of the doctor’s questions left him shaking his head. Don’t worry; this story really isn’t about my physical. It’s about Briarwood High School, home of the Mighty Buccaneers. So how do you connect the two? Why, with an ankle, of course.
Confused? Not as confused as my doctor. When he asked how I injured my ankle, I told him, “I didn’t. Bubba Hanks did.”
Then he asked when the injury occurred. My response, “About 40 years ago.”
When he asked how the injury happened, I said, “I was trying to get my picture into the newspaper.” That’s when the doctor asked a nurse to come in and bring a big shot with her.
Bubba Hanks was the biggest kid who lived on all of Flamingo Street. Some say his size was because of a kidney infection in the first grade. It put him in the hospital for a week and home in bed for three months. But I know the real reason for his growth: his love of sticky buns. Eat sticky buns from the first grade all the way through high school? Trust me; you too will be one of the largest kids around.
Strong side tackle was Bubba’s position when he played for the Flamingo Street Raiders, our street football team. After reaching Briarwood High School, home of the Mighty Buccaneers, Bubba continued to play strong side tackle both on offense and defense.
His records during his five years on the varsity football team are legendary, unmatched even to this very day. But one statistic doesn’t show up in any record book, nor was it written about in any of the many newspaper accounts of his crushing tackles, quarterback sacks, or Herculean goal line stances. The statistic? How he took out one of his own teammates. That would be yours truly.
The last football game my senior year was against the Headland Highlanders. Okay. Stop laughing. That’s what their name was, and their mascot wore a skirt. Sure, we all knew it was called a kilt, but to a bunch of high school kids, skirt was funnier.
The Highlanders had trounced us Buccaneers the year before, and now it was finally time for payback. And payback they did. We got trounced once again. They still had their entire first string in at the end of the game. Guess they really didn’t take too kindly to all those pre-game skirt comments they could hear from our locker room through the air vents.
It being a huge rivalry, a reporter for our local paper was on the field taking pictures. He had taken tons of Hank “The Tank” through the entire game, and on the last play I finally saw my chance. Their quarterback took the ball and faded back. I broke through the line, chased him down, jumped up, and blocked the pass. I was surely going to be in the paper. Except he never threw the ball. He tucked and ran in for a touchdown. Leaving me crumpled on the field with 250 pounds on top of me.
Seems right after I jumped up, so did “The Tank.” When I landed, Hank did too and rolled over on my ankle. I didn’t get my picture in the paper, but I was on crutches for two weeks. I limped around for another month afterwards, but not because my ankle was still hurt. You get a lot of sympathy from girls being a big injured football player.
Funny, it’s girls that have helped my old injury to come back again. Taking care of our granddaughters has been physically taxing, to say the least. They may be small, but they out number me two to one. And after babysitting them, I feel beat up more than when the entire offensive team of Highlanders piled on after I recovered a fumble in that last game.
With all the adventures and misadventures I had growing up on Flamingo Street, somehow I still survived my childhood. But Big Papa here may not survive our granddaughter’s childhood. At least my ankle won’t.
If I’d known then what I know now — trying to block that pass would have me limping around 40 years later – I wouldn’t have attempted it. Then again, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve said, “If I’d know then what I know now,” I’d be rich.
Of course, if you count all the hugs and sugar received from Little One and Sweet Caroline, our two granddaughters, I’m already rich. And what if you add all the hugs and kisses I get from The Wife? Why, that makes me the wealthiest man in the world.
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories since 2001. To read more of Rick’s stories, visit his blog: storiesbyrick.wordpress.com.]
