Eldred Township Elementary- One Person, Two Perspectives

My Elementary School-  NOTE- Friday morning. I received a large number of comments about the essay on the Township School. I was reminded of how many aspects of school I had forgotten and it was interesting how many names connected to siblings, relatives and friends that I knew and teachers we had in common. I tried to answer as many comments as possible and I hope some of the readers look at them them because there's a lot of information from ex-students ranging from the 1950's to the '80's. I wish we had the picture-taking capabilities that are in today's world.

Something that was common when I went to school and then later taught was how excited kids got when we read "The Weekly Reader" and when the paperback books we ordered arrived- Big Day. Someone reminded me of those early years and the use of clay and paste, also the mimeographed coloring sheets, the first grade cupboards where we put our lunches. Many teachers were mentioned, ex-students recalled what an impact some of them had in their early years. I even found out where some of my ex-second grade classmates are now. 

It was a real treat for me to read all the different experiences and the connections we had, either through us or brothers and sisters. Lots of comments about the first grade room and the gymnasium. Thanks and I'll keep trying to answer the comments. It's nice that so many of us have strong and pleasant memories of a real landmark in the Eldred area.    Jim ('61-66)

NOTE: Another late addition- I coached the Eldred Little League for four years,  two or three of them during college summers and the last time was during the time I was teaching at the Twp. There never were many Twp. kids who tried out for the team, but I really encouraged them to come to the open tryouts at the Eldred Park. 

I took one of those writing tablets that the kids received every six weeks to keep track of kids, thinking maybe we might get 40 or so with the Borough and Twp. kids combined. We had 106 for the opening tryout! Half of the kids were from the Township and it was great. Several of them made the LL team and many of the others played on our farm teams that played numerous games throughout the summer. I was really happy with the turnout, 106 kids with one coach kept me hopping, but it was a wonderful experience seeing so many kids playing organized baseball for the first time and having fun doing it. Never will forget the cars just rolling in the day of tryouts-non-stop. 

Report cards every six weeks and receiving that new tablet and pencil.

Those blackboard writing devices that held three or four pieces of chalk and drew multiple lines to practice cursive writing and how letters had to rise exactly to the right position on or near those lines. No room for errors!

Squirt guns on the last day of school each year. Reading comic books on the bus and discovering and wanting those advertised "X-Ray Glasses." I don't think they were authentic!

Alan Shepard was the first American in space. Russian, Yuri Gagarin was the first man and the 'space race" was on.

No bases on the playground ball field, but large dirt spots where they should be- all the traffic around each base area.

field trips- Did you go to the Buffalo Zoo?

Prologue 

The one person is me. The two perspectives are from the eyes of a six to an eleven-year-old and a 24-25 year-old. Those are also me. 

I started and completed elementary grades at the Eldred Township school and 12 years later came back and taught for a year and a half.

I've drafted and started this piece many times in the past two weeks and always found myself digging a hole too big for me to climb out.

The phrases, "I think," or "I don't think" seemed to begin almost every sentence as I didn't trust my absolute recall. I'm working solo on this project; no answers from friends or family, no newspaper clippings, no yearbooks and the only photos were taken by me through the years. 

I eliminated that issue by simply eliminating those phrases. I decided to just give it my best shot knowing there may be some inaccuracies or errors, but for the most part I'd be okay. I do apologize for any errors/mistakes. They are completely unintentional.

When the thoughts began to roll, they were unstoppable. The wake-up and breakfast routine at home, the daily bus rides and the names of all the roads and all the kids we picked up along the way were just a beginning. The names of all my classmates, my teachers, the daily schedule, the inner sanctum of the building-classrooms, rest rooms, the mystery of the teacher's lounge, the cafeteria and the playground also came to light.

That was just a sample of my "kid" period. I found that seeing the school as an adult created a counter viewpoint, but not as dramatic as I would have anticipated. There were new teachers and now  transportation to school was provided by car that now could be parked in the "teacher's lot."

I actually saw what was "secretly" inside the teacher's lounge and I didn't have to raise my hand as much.

Finally, I have not lived in Eldred since 1982. I visited every year, sometimes several times, and always saw my folks and long-time friends. I never felt out-of-touch despite the distance between us. 

This is the first year I haven't returned home in 38 years and combined with the cavernous gaps through all those years, I didn't feel it was appropriate to use a style and technique that always has been a part of my writing about topics from my home area.

I've always attempted to include as many names of local people as possible, primarily because I knew most of them well and I had such fond memories of their involvement in my life through the years.

I don't feel comfortable mentioning names and identifying people who I have not seen for so many years, although my memory of those earlier times is quite clear. I do not know what has composed the last three or four decades of their lives and including their name or picture might be upsetting to a family member or friend.

Since this is in a blog format, I can update this daily and if anyone wants to contact me through FB and/or messenger, please do. If you have personal stories, events, or people you'd like to mention and are certain it would in no way be harmful, I'd be glad to add it as quickly as possible.

I hope you will understand my reservations. I still think I might be able to surface some memories that some might enjoy. I know I did, but I had to cut down my novel-size material to fit in to a much, much shorter blog.

Those Early Years

The bulk of this essay will take place inside the school building and on the playgrounds, but I'm personally obligated to state a couple of valuable items.

I began school as a just-turned, six-year-old. My brother, Bill, was 14 at the time and already a seasoned veteran of the academic and social road.

My mom was adamant about breakfast; cocoa (never called hot chocolate) and toast on the cold days and cereal in the early fall or spring (the warmer days?)

I ate Post Cereal, primarily for one reason. They had a baseball card series on the back of the boxes. I used to seriously observe the back of the box every morning, looking at the player's photo, statistics and in the early years-trying to pick out words I could read.

When the box was empty, out came the scissors and I tried to follow the lines and cut them out as neatly as possible

Two examples of Post Cereal cards. 

This is not an error in photography, just the cardboard back of a Post card. It was a neat place to write any important and necessary information about the card or player.

We lived on the Larabee Road, between the Viko and the Larabee Y. We watched out the living room window (I don't know the reason we called it a "picture" window). When the bus went past our home toward the "Y" it signaled that we had less than five minutes to get down to the end of the driveway to meet the bus after its turnaround.

This is the front of the Pransky home and you can see our front window where we watched for the bus.

We lived about six miles from the Twp. school, but after trips up Canfield and Slack Hollows it was usually a 45 minute ride. Almost every student rode a bus to and from school, some having nearly a 60 minute journey.

I intentionally left out the Indian Creek portion of our morning route simply, especially as a kid, I didn't really understand it although I'm sure there was a sound reason. I just wasn't included in the discussions.

The school was on our left and we drove right by and continued up and down Indian Creek Road. It was like being on an overhead interstate road, seeing your destination down below, but unable to find an exit. 

Regardless, I really don't think a lot of kids complained too vociferously about the travel- we all had to do it.

Okay, now we are at school and it becomes more of a list of remembrances and some questions that a little guy might have.

This is my first grade classroom. I took this photo when I took my mom over to visit my old school after it had been converted to the "Olde Schoolhouse" (I believe that is the correct name). My mother and I visited between 2005 and 2010, my first time in the building since 1980. I don't know if the business is still in operation there, but it was a nice walk-through and they had many antique and gift items. 

I went to this room first, not only because it was my first classroom, but it was a GREAT room. The room's entrance is on the left and the door with the sign on it was the "cloak room." I was not wearing a cloak during those years.

It was a huge room, especially from the vantage point of a six-year-old and it had a step down reading/story telling step-down area in the back that looked out on the playground. 

All of my elementary school teachers were women. I do remember all of their names. I recall the daily structure and routine and I don't think it varied much through the grades. They were self-contained classrooms and I always enjoyed the water breaks, lunch in the cafeteria (I had a yellow school bus lunch bucket in grade one) and of course, recess. We stood in straight lines a lot, often keeping social distance in the 60's by standing on assigned floor tiles.

I almost forgot that once a week I left our class to have a session with the district speech teacher. I wasn't afraid to talk, but some of the words didn't always come out right sometimes. 

We also had a school nurse and I'm quite sure we did not have one when I returned as a teacher. 

More straight lines for fire drills and there were a few occasions when we had to conduct a do-over because we had surpassed the allotted time limit.

We received our first class picture with our teacher's photo in the upper left corner. I have my second and fifth grade class pictures. One of the girls in my second grade photo still has a blue ink tracing around her picture indicating she was my girlfriend although I don't think I ever spoke to her before.

It's possible there have may have been another time or two, but the only time I remember getting in trouble was for some kind of incident on the fifth and sixth grade playground. That led to outlining six chapters in our history book. 

Steve Jackson lived a half mile from me in Larabee. His parents and two brothers and sister were good friends. Steve's father, Frank, helped my parents build their home. Steve's mom used to babysit me, once taking me on a train trip through the area (my first train ride). Steve still lives in Larabee, about a mile from his old home. We played ball together and despite his Pittsburgh Pirates' loyalty, we have been good friends for years. What I remember most about Steve is how wonderful he and his wife were to my parents, especially my mother in her older years. A great friend and a wonderful family. One of many friends on that stretch of Larabee road-lots of stops for our school bus going down that road.

Randy Stebbins-and despite shaking hands with ex-Dodgers' manager, Tom Lasorda, Randy loved the Yankees. Many Eldred area people know Randy because of his success as a girls' basketball coach at O-E and his guidance counseling position. I knew Randy as a grade school kid who lived across the road from our home in Larabee. Years later, he and his wife, Wanda lived there as their first home. Randy was a few years younger than the guys in our neighborhood, but loved to be a part of our activities. He was an outstanding coach and a better person. He passed away from cancer in the early 2000's, fighting each and every day. He loved working with and coaching kids- a wonderful example for all.

In the early years, I was a whiz at two important skills for a youngster. Shooting baskets in the gymnasium/auditorium and flash card multiplication tables.

Standing in line (of course) under the basket, you shot until you missed and then you went to the back of the line. I guess I had a lot of practice prior to my school years because I usually made quite a few baskets before the other kids yelled at me to miss and I obliged.

Speaking of the gymnasium/auditorium, these are two of the adjoined seats we used to sit in for assemblies, Christmas shows, etc. They sit downstairs in my home now. They are still in excellent condition. The legs are still there-they're just hidden by the camera angle. They remain a prized possession.

The flash card contest was one person standing behind five or six kids who were seated. A multiplication card was quickly uncovered by the teacher and if you said the correct answer (4x5=20) you continued standing and moved down the row. An incorrect answer forced you to a chair.

Memories

1. Taking the cafeteria count downstairs in the morning.

2. Not making the chorus. I thought I nailed "America" (My Country 'Tis of Thee), but I was edged out.

3. There was a long steel/iron ladder in the boys' rest room that was attached to the floor with four or five rungs to the top of the ceiling-maybe sort of an attic. I never saw a kid try and climb it and it always seemed that the temptation would be just to great to ignore the opportunity.

   Trying to desperately stay away from "when I was a kid" lingo, but I believe most of us were well-prepared for the disciplines and the rights & wrongs of school from our parents' guidance. You listened to your parents and teachers. It was kind of a general understanding. Oh, there were challenges from some of the kids, but I have to believe fewer than now. 

Times are different. Different doesn't necessarily mean better or worse. It simply means, well, different. Time changes things, but it also can provide continuity.

4. Valentine's Day could be a sometimes embarrassing day for various individual reasons. I tried to avoid others viewing the cards I received.

5. The almost annual Clyde Peeling assembly- the guy from Williamsport with the snakes. I can still hear the screams.

6. The day I sat in the middle of the classroom and could not read the assignment on the blackboard. Everything was a blur and I remember thinking it occurred for the first time that day. Obviously, my nearsightedness had been on-going so I began wearing glasses in third or fourth grade.

My optometrist was in Coudersport and my dentist was in Smethport. Those were some of my longer journeys as a little guy until we drove my brother to the University of Cincinnati for his freshman year. It could have been Ecuador as far as I was concerned-the longest trip a nine-year-old had ever taken.

7. Some vocabulary and definition errors. I came home from school and proudly announced at the dinner table that my school was hosting a "brassiere" the next day. "Bazaar," I believe, was the correct term. 

One day in fifth grade we received a flyer for all boys who were interested in playing Saturday youth league basketball at the Borough School. Listed were items to bring, including an "athletic supporter." I thought that meant your mom or dad.

Christmas at the Pransky's as an eight or nine-year-old. Those are "Rock and Sock'em Robots."

I told my wife years ago that I played with them as a kid and I now have a set in a display case downstairs. Oh, I'm donning a nice ball cap also.

8. The boiler room, between the third grade classroom and the cafeteria.
9. Listening to the radio in the classroom when John Glenn orbited the earth.

10. Seeing our teacher cry when she announced to the class that President Kennedy had been shot.

11. The gigantic playground encompassed almost completely by link fence. If a ball went over the fence on the side of the school furthest from the main road, it was lost. Forever. Like in the "Sandlot" F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Nobody knew what lurked on the other side of that fence through the thicket of trees and swamp-like surface.

12. Recess time. Red Rover, Freeze Tag, Dodge Ball and along with baseball/softball games we played "500" (a flyball was 100, a line drive 50....) and the politically incorrect, but that's what we said then, "Indian Ball"-one player hit a ball towards a group of kids. The hitter then lay the bat flat on the ground and the person with the ball rolled or bounced it in. If the ball hit the bat, he became the hitter.

13. Practicing 'taking cover' under our desks- just in case.

14. A "major change" occurred in our last elementary school year as the sixth graders from Rixford came down. The Duke Center kids may have come down to the Borough at the same time. 

It was a highly anticipated move that I believe turned out great for us as we moved up the timetable on meeting all these kids we were going to meet in high school the next year. 

15. My strongest memory of the Rixford kids was the band that three of them formed; a drummer and two guitar players joining forces with two female singers, maybe one of them on tambourine. They brought a school assembly crowd to its feet with a cover of the Monkees,' "I'm Not Your Stepping Stone."

The crowd yelled for more (they did not use matches or lighters), but the band informed them, "That's the only song we know." 

When my mother and I visited my old school in the 2000's the only two rooms that had not been filled with antique items and goods was this room (the library) and the room that adjoined it (door on the left) The room next door was my sixth grade classroom as a student and also my room as a teacher when I returned. Although the furniture and the design of the rooms had changed some, it was a special feeling being there again, both as a teacher and then as a long-time vacant visitor.

These rooms were the one's closest to the basketball court and several steps from the parking lot (closest to the road).

I remember as a student there was a movable ladder that reached to the highest stack of books and again, I never recall anyone goofing around with that ladder. 

I always liked to read and it was that library that provided all the Chip Hilton and Bronc Burnett series' books that I read all the time. It was the inspiration for me (25 years later) to write and later have published my own five part fictional sports series with Mickey Baker as the principal character.

These were great books. I still look for them in used bookstores. We also had the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Bobbsey Twins (Nan and Burt with Freddie and Flossie), etc. It was a wonderful library as a kid and as a teacher.

When I returned to the Twp. as a teacher, I was one of four men who team taught fifth and sixth grade. They were all good guys and helped an almost "rookie" every day.

I got in to the teacher's room. There was no secret code or handshake, but there was a huge safe inside and then just a lounge to have some coffee or lunch. As a kid, I thought it was like the Batcave. 

Now there was before and after-school bus duty. Recess duty, but again, we had a giant area for the kids to run and play organized games of touch football, basketball or softball. 

Both as a kid and an adult, I rarely remember "snow days." I'm sure liability issues have changed the course immensely and we probably have more than I might recall, but we sure went to school and later went home in some miserable weather. Kudos to our bus drivers. They weren't easy drives in good weather, let alone with wet and icy roads.

I took my own "snow day" once as a nine-year-old, feigning an illness so my aunt had to watch me all day. That afternoon I listened to the Cardinals-Yankees World Series game. No night games until 1971 and the only televised ones were the weekend games. The Cardinals won that '64 series in seven games.

Also, as a teacher, Clyde Peeling and his snakes came back in to school again. Maybe it's just a recurring nightmare.

Eldred Borough Drive

The gentleman who was the janitor, custodian maintenance man, lunch server and a friend to all kids when I was a Twp.student had the same role when I taught a year at the Borough School-working just as long and hard and almost always with a smile.,

I recently found the flyer we picked up while visiting the "Olde Schoolhouse Village Shoppes"

I usually don't dedicate these writings, but along with saying thanks to those teachers who taught me and those who I worked alongside for seven years total in Pennsylvania and Florida, love and thanks to my parents, Tony and Helen Pransky for allowing me to grow up in a wonderful community. 

And this is for my mom who went to Roulette High with this guy:

Don Hoak's Brooklyn Dodgers' card circa '57-58. Upper right hand corner lists date of birth and hometown.

If you's like to pass along any Township information or memories that you'd like included in an update, just send them to me on FB comments or messenger. Thanks. How long was your bus ride?

NOTE- I'm not sending this essay out to as many groups as usual, but I'm sure there are some Twp. alums in some of the area towns.

Eldred Township Elementary School

The sixth grade goal- Otto=Eldred High School 

Playing in the Big Leagues

 My mother's parents were George and Emma Nicklaus. My grandparents owned a dairy farm in Burtville, Pa. My mother had eight sisters and most of them lived within a half an hour from my grampa and gramma.

My grandparents' home in Burtville.

As long as I can remember, my parents and I would visit my grandparents every other Sunday. There was a huge family reunion every summer, but because many other relatives were still in the area there normally were family members present every Sunday.

A ball game would inevitably take place with my grandfather watching after an outdoor meal on a grill plus numerous desserts and dishes. His chair of choice usually sat in the shade of an apple tree which provided a good scenic point to observe the baseball action.

I heard him tell my parents on several occasions, "that boy is going to play in the major leagues." 

My grandfather loved watching Saturday night wrestling out of Buffalo and any baseball game he could find on his three channel (at best) black and white screen (but, mostly gray) television set. It was almost impossible to see the characters with a heavy grainy tint to the entire screen, but he was a vocal viewer.

My grandfather, George Nicklaus.

Okay, I didn't exactly "play" in a major league game, but for one day I sure felt like I did.

I was a professional baseball scout for 25 years. I started my career with the Houston in 1992 and spent six years with the Astros.

I joined the Athletics in 1998 and worked with Oakland for eight seasons including the "Moneyball" year (2002 draft). "Moneyball" is a book written by Michael Lewis and later made in to a movie (starring Brad Pitt). The focus is Oakland's general manager, Billy Beane, highlighting his ideas and attempts at revolutionizing the evaluation and acquisitions of baseball talent.

 Note: 1998- A's manager, Art Howe, general manager, Sandy Alderson and then assistant G.M, Billy Beane

During my first year with Oakland, I was fortunate to have a dual role. I scouted until early June and after the free agent draft had finished, I served as the A's hitting coach for our short season (76 games) club in Medford Oregon, the Southern Oregon Timberjacks.

I had a similar position with the Astros in the summer of '96, coaching with the Quad Cities club in the Midwest League (full season, 140 games). I joined the QC team after the first half of the season. Our manager was ex-big leaguer, Jim Pankovits. Another former major leaguer, infielder Joe Pittman, was the hitting coach and Donnie Alexander was the pitching coach.

The opportunity with the Astros was my first time on-the-field professionally and although I had been a college coach for seven years, working with Jim Pankovits was a tremendous learning experience. His ability to teach and his knowledge of all aspects of the game were outstanding. His game management was the best I've ever seen, at any level. 

I actually saw Jim play in 1967 as his Little League team from Virginia lost 1-0 against Japan in the finals of the LLWS in Williamsport. Our coach and parents took our Eldred Little League team to the game.

I looked forward to coaching again, this time in Medford. In this new position, I would have a larger daily role and the balance of our players would be making their professional debut, many of them coming directly from the '98 free agent draft.

Southern Oregon Timberjacks' hat.

Since I had just joined the A's and was going to coach that summer, I was allowed to miss ten days of scouting and travel to our spring training site in Phoenix. Spring training is broken up between the major league and minor league camps. I was assigned to observe for a day or so and gradually work my way in to the drills and participate in some of the activities with the minor leaguers.

The second week of minor league camp had just started when I arrived and no games had been played yet. The days were set up to be on the field by 7:30 a.m., break for lunch, and then resume workouts until mid-afternoon.

I was glad I arrived in good, general physical condition and had taken a few weeks to throw and swing a bat before going to camp, just in case I was asked to do any "hands-on" work.

That work began the second day I was in camp.

I was assigned to the Double A club for the morning workout. That team was managed by Jeffrey Leonard, a MLB veteran of 14 years (1977-1990). He hit .266 in his major league career with 144 home runs and was a two-time National League All-Star.

Leonard was a large man with a big, booming voice along with an intimidating scowl that he appeared to carry most of the time. I hadn't made a very good first impression the previous day when I was putting on my shoes before leaving the clubhouse.

I had brought black shoes with me, totally forgetting that all A's on field personnel wore white shoes. That was an Oakland trademark and it had taken me less than 30 minutes to get ripped by Leonard. There was a slim chance he might have been laughing a little inside, but he made his point and I would not make that error again.

Leonard informed me that I was going to throw batting practice to the second group of hitters. Players usually hit in groups of four, rotating after seven or eight swings, taking up to four or five sets during their allotted BP time.

A key in throwing good batting practice is to put the ball in an area where the hitter can get good swings. In other words, throw "centered strikes." Fortunately, because I've done it for so many years (and still doing it-occasionally), I'm pretty solid at this task.

I hadn't done it in a while, but my set went well with no complaints and when I came off the field Leonard grunted something at me which I interpreted to be a positive review.

The following day I reported to camp in a relaxed manner. I was feeling more comfortable in my surroundings and had just passed the one test I had anticipated with some trepidation, throwing batting practice to professional hitters.

Keith Lieppman, our player development director, approached Curt Young and me and announced the major league camp was short batting practice pitchers for the morning workout. Curt pitched part of 11 seasons in the majors, winning 69 games with a 4.31 ERA. He played for the A's for eight seasons and later coached in the minors and eventually the big leagues with the organization.

Lip asked if we could help out and throw to some of the major leaguers and ML candidates.

We both said yes, but my mind was racing. The previous day had gone well, but this was ML camp. What if I hit one of the key players? Some of these guys were making well over a million dollars even back in 1998. I wasn't even sure I could throw on back to back days,

Curt drove us over to big league camp, only a couple of miles from the minor league facility. Although I didn't want to show any emotion, I did mention I never had thrown to ML hitters before. Curt understood and calmly stated that it was no big deal (yeah, for him).

He drove his truck behind the backstop screen, about 50 feet from the batting cage. The first player I saw hitting in the first set of players was future Hall of Famer, Rickey Henderson. At least, I wouldn't have to throw to him. With that crouched stance, he had a strike zone about as big as a postage stamp.

We were told that Curt would throw to the fourth group and I would throw to the fifth. As is customary, we jogged out to the outfield to help shag balls with the rest of the guys.

Standing alone in right field, I began to feel the anxiety build. I was thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

Finally, it crossed my mind that this was what I was supposed to do. Like so many youngsters, I wanted to be a major league player like Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris.

I was a good player, but did not have professional playing ability, like Port Allegany's Brian Stavisky and Josh Kinney. Bradford's Ben Copeland and Austin's Mark Corey would join that group along with some other Big 30 players.

 I did, however, have the ambition to make baseball my career. I actually had the opportunity to be on the field with major leaguers . It wasn't exactly what my grandfather had pictured, but I was on the field with them and was actually going to make a contribution, however small, to their daily efforts.

The field was almost vacant when I ran in to throw to my group. Ron Washington, the ML third base coach and in later years the manager of the Texas Rangers, was the only development person left to observe.

It was 22 years ago, but I still remember the three hitters I faced like it was yesterday. Two of them actually had short stints in the majors, Cody McKay and Jorge Velandia. the third hitter in the group was an invitee from Japan.

No issues throwing to McKay and Velandia. The Japanese hitter, a lefty, would be my final hitter of the day.

The unexpected then occurred. It caught me totally off guard. The hitter was swinging and missing most of the pitches I threw. It was so bad that I was actually trying desperately to find one area where he might have some success and even then, he made only soft contact. I threw the same four seam fastball I always threw and at the same velocity and he just wasn't hitting it.

After 20-25 pitches, "Wash" called an end to the workout and all there was left to do was to gather the balls on the field and put them in the buckets.

As we were retrieving the scattered balls, Cody McKay came up to me and said thanks and Ron Washington gave a nod of approval.

When Curt and I arrived back on the minor league side, I played it cool when I was asked how it went with the "big boys."

Minutes later, I raced behind the clubhouse to a pay phone and called my wife. Excitedly, I reviewed for her what had just happened like a youngster telling his mother about his first youth league home run.

The next morning I was reading the sports page and underneath the column "transactions" where they list the teams and any player news, I glanced at the Oakland heading.

I saw that the Japanese hitter I had thrown to had been released. His dreams of playing big league baseball had ended.

I guess the organization felt if he couldn't hit me, he never was going to hit big-time pitching. Releases are an everyday part of spring training, but I couldn't stop thinking that my special day was one of his worst.

I ended the summer coaching in the Northwest League with the Timberjacks.

I'm two places left of the bear. It was one of the hottest summers on record in Oregon. The scoreboard would note the numbers and there were some 100 plus days. I'm not sure how hot it would be a in a bear costume.

There were four young players on our mostly rookie squad who eventually made it to the major leagues and it's nice to know that I played at least a minor role in their development.

Two of our players who became major leaguers: first baseman, Jason Hart and outfielder, Eric Byrnes

Those two players, all their teammates and all the people I met in spring training never knew what a large part they played in my baseball maturation. The memories they created will be with me forever, especially my one day in the big leagues.

A plaque from the Medford Boosters' Club