My illustrious second-rate sports career

As long as I can remember, I’ve done quite a bit of physical activity – from riding on the back of somebody’s bicycle at 3 or 4 to lots of snow shoveling this winter.  The first-named led to a bleeding ankle; the last-named led to a sore back.  Not all my physical activity has led to injury, but there have been quite a few “incidents”.

In between I’ve climbed trees, sledded, rode bicycles, played pickup games of baseball, touch football, and basketball, canoed, hiked, and a few organized sports.

In the summer of 1952, nine or more of the boys I hung out with formed a Class F Baseball team.  I sometimes pitched, sometimes played third-base, and maybe sat on the bench.  The most memorable incident was that I pitched a 0-1 no-hitter.  The other team got their run by a combination of walks and stealing.  This “feat” made it to the Cleveland Plain Dealer, but they misspelled my name as Melvyn MacGree.

Class F baseball still exists in Cleveland and is still sponsored by the Cleveland Baseball Federation.

In my first year of high school gym, I ran a “mile” in 5:12 and 5:19.  The coach suggested I join cross-country team.  I never made the cut for the seven that counted, just part of the crowd that might push some in the other sevens down in finish ranking.  In one race I did slow down to help one of our seven who had been hit in some way by an opposing runner.

I also joined the cross-country team in my second year of college.  But I didn’t do so well as I developed “shin splints”.  I got some therapy for them, but they plagued me now and then.

I did take a fitness class at a Y in my forties.  That included gradually increasing running distance.  I was proud of myself when I ran a mile in about eight minutes.

Now it’s a big deal for me to walk from my house to UMD.

A high-school classmate recommended that I join the wrestling team.  I did and managed to be the 133 lb. wrestler for a couple of years.  There was no one else in that weight class.  If there was, I generally won the wrestle-off for a meet.  I had a miserable record.  I was often taken down in less than a minute.  The coach selected five or so wrestlers to go to state, none me, of course.  Every year at least one of those guys won a state title.  My last year I had a better record, I think 4-3.  It should have been 5-2, but being a January starter, I graduated the night before my last allowed match.  Guess what lots of high-school graduates do.  At least, I lost on points rather than by a takedown.

I practiced with the Case Institute of Technology wrestling team.  I wrestled in intramurals at 147 for a fraternity I didn’t join.  The first guy was a well-muscled rock.  That was how he behaved.  When he had the down position, I could not budge him.  I even sat back on my heels to give my opponent a chance to move.  He didn’t.  When I had the down position he gripped me tight but made no move to get better control.  The score: 0-0!  I won a referee’s decision for being more aggressive. My second was with another team freshman.  This was a much more interesting match: 4-4.  Again, I won on referee’s decision.  The last match should have been the hardest.  I won 7-2.  However, I never made the cut to wrestle in a team match.

After I flunked out of Case, I went to Ohio Wesleyan University.  I wrestled once in the intramurals at 154 as an independent.  I really don’t remember any of the matches, but I won all of them.  I had practiced with team, but I never made the cut for a match.

I took up skiing in the early sixties.  I took a week off work to learn at Buck Hill.  After the class I did snow-plows on my own.  On one run I was heading straight for the lift.  My best tactic was to fall.  One ski came off, windmilled, and hit me below the knee.  My four-dollar ski pants have a hole in them!  There’s blood in there!  I’ll spare you more details, but the doctor put extra-padding on the stitches.  I did learn enough that week to move beyond the snow plow.

I do have many more ski stories, but I’m running out of space.  In the spirit of my “second rate” career, let me tell a bit about my amateur racing.  At Spirit Mountain, I qualified for going to the NASTAR nationals.  Why?  The top three in each gender-age-speed category qualify.  Since there were never more than three male racers in my age and speed category, I qualified five times.  I went to Park City in 2004 where I was 21 out of 23 and to Steamboat Springs in 2007 where I was 14 out of 15.  My times were about twice those of the winners!

I still have a season pass at Spirit Mountain, but I’m getting wimpy about when I go.  If the temperature is not above ten degrees Fahrenheit, I’m not too interested.

So, other than sporadic visits to the Essentia Fitness Center, my exercise is some woodcutting, some lawn-mowing, and some snow-shoveling.  Now I have a sore back from all this season’s snow shoveling.

Hey, when my back doesn’t bother me, I can do over 30 pushups!

How many people have you forgotten?

A few weeks ago an executive of an alumni association of a school I attended left a message when he was in town. He later sent me email about getting together and thought we had an affinity because we received degrees close together in the same subject. I responded that I was not interested.

He responded that was OK and asked if I had contact with any of my classmates. I replied that I had only sporadic contact with a couple of people who were in the same high school as I was and started at that college together.

That got me thinking about all the people we've known throughout our lives whom we've lost contact with and have even forgotten. Sometimes if we drop an old acquaintance a line they may or may not respond.

I sent an email several years ago to a classmate who had gone on to be president of the college in which we started together, congratulating him on something of other. He never responded. I sent an email to a classmate at another school who I often hung out with at the student union. He was a professor at another school. He never responded.

Of course, there are a few who have responded but the follow-up is sporadic. I worked with people in various groups for several years. I can't remember the names of some in the group. Of those whom I remember, the correspondence is often a few emails about someone who died and then it lapses.

I think some people make an almost mystical attachment to old acquaintance, especially from high school or college. But it is not shared by others. Often I think the staff of classmates.com puts more enthusiasm into people getting involved than many members of any given class. I know members of my high school class rarely post anything on the message board. I know that I've posted a couple of news items and have had no follow up messages.

One of the most poignant was my memory of a dance. When my date for that dance came to the registration table at a high school reunion, I said, "Ah, my favorite date!" She looked at me and said, "Who are you?" When I gave my name, she said, "Oh!" and walked away.

I think you can get a good sense of how few people share an attachment to their past by looking at donations by percentage of graduating classes in alumni magazines. I've rarely seen it over forty percent. Or if you are interested in family history, how many relatives are even willing to respond to requests for the names of other relatives?

The choir I am in will soon be singing a song with the words, "The past is behind…" I think this is the attitude of many people. They are focused on either the here and now or the future.