There was a group of us that would show up on a regular basis and try to challenge Jack, and on the days Jack didn’t show, we would copy his run and try to swing like him.  The days he did show, we wanted him to think we could hold our own.  I say a group because we weren’t really a gang, just a bunch of us that liked to hang out with each other.

Dave Hickman was the peace maker, and we really didn’t have a nickname for him, just called him Dave. Dave was always good smelling, well-groomed and kept good keep of his clothes.  He was the strong, nerdy type and his thick, bold glasses always seemed to rest just at the tip of his nose. He was a fairly decent ball player, but deep down we all knew ball wasn’t his thing.  Probably was a statesman of some sort, always acting as the go-between, and liked making sure we all got along and played fair.

Robert Nevins, we called him “Nev”, was short and round, kinda like a bowling ball. He would waddle back and forth to-and-fro, always cackling about something, as if life never seemed fair to him. But as far as friends would come, you couldn’t ask for a more loyal person. Nev would always try to out-do Jack, out-run Jack, out-hit Jack, he tried any and everything just to beat Jack. One day he challenged Jack to a game of checkers….and well, we all know how that turned out.

Petey was fast…almost fast as Jack, ‘cept never wanted to race; always had a reason to not run.  I had met Petey years earlier when I first started at the school, and didn’t know much about his baseball ability, but yep, sure was fast.  Petey, lived in a house with four other girls, so he just liked to hang out with the fellas, didn’t really matter what we did, he just liked hanign’ with the fellas

Then there was Richard “Richy” Smallwood and he was the exact opposite of Nev; he was head and shoulder above us all and looked like he hadn’t eaten in months and always full of energy. Richy had two scars that started from one ear to his opposite cheek. With each question asked about his scars, came a different answer, so we just stopped asking, besides Richy didn’t pay it no mind and neither did we. Richy, and Jack were longtime friends that met through church. Their parents belonged to Calvary, the local Baptist church, and we’re always at church doing something. Some that knew Richy, also called him “Rev”, because he was always quoting scripture and things.  We knew one day he would be a preacher, and we were ok with that.

Then there were the Pittman brothers.  The Pittman brothers always arrived late. These two were spittin’ images of each other, and if you didn’t know better, you couldn’t tell one from the other. The Pittman’s stood as stout as two bulls and bow legged to boot. They had the appearance of a man that had grown a great deal in a short period of time, and boy were they good athletes, almost as good as Jack, but maybe not as bright as Jack was—if you know what I mean. Never understood why they always shaved their head bald. We all thought we’d be watching them play up the road for the good ole’ Tigers one day and were rootin’ for such.

Hambone would show up out of nowhere.  Real name Reggie Davis.  Deep down inside we all liked Hambone, but our folks didn’t want us hanging out with him or his brothers. Hambone was nice and all, but we all had seen hambone smoke a cig a time or two, and every time he’d swing and miss, he’d spit out a slew of cuss words. It was all a good laugh ‘til we could see Pastor Ricky’s joyous face turn stern. His customary warmth would fade quicker than a hiccup, and at those moments, we all knew it was time to stop the laughing. Our expressions would grow pale, and besides, we all knew better than to be cussin’ in front of Pastor Ricky, but I guess Hambone just wasn’t raised that way.