February 23, 1980 -- Not A Big Story, But It's Mine
We needed two points to get to the state finals. We had our best player, Dave Hortman at the line, shooting a one-and-one. A normal player would have found the situation too stressful, but not "Horts." Had he been 6'7" or 6'8", he would have been a power forward on a major college team, because his intensity, basketball knowledge, and skills would have been a huge asset to anyone. But because he was 6'2", he was with us at what essentially essentially was the junior college college.
I stood right behind him as he took the free throw line, so I had a perfect view of the basket, and those who were standing just beyond it. Ohio University-Chillicothe -- our biggest rival -- was waiting in the wings to play its state semi-final contest against Ohio State University-Lima. We had played Chillicothe twice that season, losing both times by narrow margins. A normal player may not have remembered that, but Horts sure did. He wanted another shot at Chillicothe.
So he made like Babe Ruth before his first free throw.
He pointed in the direction of the Chillicothe players. "We want you." And then he calmly sank the front end of the one-and-one.
He did it again a second time, as if they needed the reminder. "Yes, you." And he sank that one, too.
The moment gave me chills. And would forever.
We made it to the finals.
...
AS IT TURNED OUT, Chillicothe made it to the finals as well, setting up what we thought was the big showdown of the entire season.
But we didn't do many things right that day. Chillicothe won rather easily.
So there's no powerful ending to this story.
Just a thud.
...
THIS WAS MY second year playing basketball for Miami-Middletown, and I'm glad I played. I wish more than anything I would have been on the basketball team our senior year at Franklin. Even if I would not have started, I would have been part of a great group of guys who enjoyed a great experience. And, because we won so many games so handily, I probably would have played a lot.
MUM provided me a second chance, or perhaps a fresh start. I remember one of the first days of practice my freshmen year when Tom Vessley, our assistant coach who had previously been the head coach at Franklin, asked me where I went to high school. "Franklin," I said. And he got a twisted look on his face, saying. "I watched Franklin last year; I don't remember seeing you."
When I told him I chose to sit our the season because 1) we were so good, and 2) I wouldn't have played much, he gave me a compliment that meant a lot to me.
"I like the way you play," he said. "If you had gone to any other high school, you would have been a starter or at least one of their top players off the bench."
So playing at Miami-Middletown gave me a chance to sort of make up for that.
That's the powerful ending to this story.
...
May 10, 1980 -- A New Chapter
It was a time of transition. I had just finished my sophomore year at Miami-Middletown and was looking at going to the main campus instead. And after two years of chemistry, calculus, and that science crap for pre-med (I wanted to be an orthodontist), I knew I was have to change my major.
We were the host team for the ORCC conference tournament, at Weatherwax. I was playing just okay, shooting 40 on the front nine (Woodside) and then four over again on the back nine through eight holes (Meadows). My drive on the eighteenth was in the middle of the fairway, leaving me a 7-iron in. After such a "ho-hum" day, I was settled on shooting 80. But I knocked the 7-iron to within three inches of the hole, giving me a 79. For reasons I will never be able to explain, 79 sounds a whole lot better than 80.
That night we hosted a hayride (a la Urban Cowboy) at our gym that evening, which was my first date with Cheri McKenzie. Everyone wore cowboy hats and had a great time.
The next day I shot 78 and we won our conference tournament, something we had not done the year before when we actually won the state tournament and everything else we played. Check out the photo -- no one wore hats, and everyone had persimmon woods.
Good stuff.
...
December 6, 1980 -- Writing On Deadline
I had written a few stories for the student newspaper, but how in the world was on the sports desk at The Middletown Journal on a Saturday night? Behind me was legendary sports editor Jerry Nardiello, who had been with the paper for decades -- most notably back in the 50s when Jerry Lucas made Middletown a national basketball powerhouse.
Somehow, I got the job, sitting there for four-and-a-half hours until we put the Sunday sports section to bed. I had a typewriter, and anything we wrote had to be sent downstairs to the typsetters. And I have no idea what all happened from there.
I figured I would give it a shot for a while.
But I didn't expect much to come from it. As it turned out, my career as a sportswriter was only beginning.