HIt the john when you have a chance
I was young, but I was doing what I loved.
Late 70s, southeast Missouri -- I was the play-by-play voice of the fighting Sikeston Bulldogs. Wow, someday before I die I hope, for a brief moment, I can recapture the joy I felt doing that job. I doubt I was any good, but I sure had a good time.
Sikeston's big rival was nearby Charleston, a smaller town about 20 miles away. I think it's possible those two schools have played each other in football more often than any two high schools west of the Mississippi. Maybe anywhere. There were years, when opponents were scarce, that the Bulldogs and Bluejays played each other 3 times. I've lost count, but I'm sure they've met on the gridiron more than 120 times.
Ah, but this story is about basketball. Well, sort of about basketball.
Charleston's won about 10 state titles, goes to the state tournament every year, has likely taken 80 out of the last 82 meetings with Sikeston -- and it all started in the 1970s. Calling Sikeston's basketball efforts in recent years inept would be more accurate than this SHS alum is comfortable with. About a decade ago a good coach named Fred Johnson took them to the state tournament, but not much success since.
Doing basketball play-by-play, I was a one-man show. I carried the equipment, hooked the equipment up, made sure the broadcast was working, did play-by-play, basically did color, too. I didn't really have conversations with myself -- well, not as far as you know.
This cold midwinter night in Charleston the athletic director placed my phone hookup and my tiny table right in the middle of the Charleston fans. He had a sense of humor, I guess. My station had gone on the "cheap" and quit buying telephones for game broadcasts. We just had one of those old four terminal phone boxes on the wall, about the size of a book of matches. You connected the bare wires to the terminals, did your voice check at a preset time, ran down to the pay phone, called the station and asked if everything was "okay." My pal Al Cummings back at the station said, "Fine."
The game wasn't pretty. I think Charleston led at one point 37-7. They would win about 79-45. A few minutes before halftime I thought, I'd better catch a moment in the bathroom. At half, I would give the leading scorers, then we would take about a 7 minute break. While I took a bathroom break or bought a coke, they played commercials and a recorded ABC newscast back at the station.
People who know me, know I like to talk. On the way to the bathroom I got caught up in a mostly friendly conversation with some Charleston fans. By the time I got the the bathroom, the line was too long, so I went back to my broadcast booth/table and got ready for the second half.
Well, two minutes into the second half, I knew what a horrible mistake I'd made. By the end of the third quarter I had my knees pressed nearly to my chest, my elbows tucked in and I was in excruciating pain. I had to go. No, really. I mean I HAD TO GO!
The fourth quarter was a nightmare. I'm not sure how I made it. At one point I decided I was just going to have to pee on myself. Thank goodness, the game was such a blowout, nobody was really calling any timeouts.
At the final buzzer, my normal 10-minute postgame show lasted about 25 seconds. I said something like, "Sikeston loses 79-45, next game Friday at Kennett. That's Bulldog basketball on KSIM. Good night, from Charleston!"
I raced down the steps, pushed through the crowd and spent about three glorious minutes in front of a urinal. Ahhhhhh! Better than sex (as I vaguely remember it).
When I was finished I went to the nearest pay phone, called Al, and said, "Could you tell how bad I had to pee in the second half? It was terrible. I thought I wouldn't make it."
"Huh?" Al asked. "What're you talking about? We lost your signal at halftime and never came to you. We couldn't call you. I didn't know what to do, so, I just played some music."
Gee, I wish I'd known that....
posted by Dale Forbis @ 8:51 PM
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