Big Man-Little Ref

In the 1980s when I lived in Baltimore I tried my hand at news journalism and occasionally went to cover high school basketball. I concentrated on the summer league games since most papers wouldn't send a reporter to those and I might have the whole story to myself if something interesting happened. On one occasion I covered a game where an interesting incident did take place but I didn't submit anything for the next morning's edition. In fact this is the first time I've written it down.

Beer Graduate

I started drinking beer when I was 16 and I spent the rest of high school in hot pursuit of the foamy beverage. Because I was too young to be served in a bar, my friends and I usually bought six-packs from the groceries and markets which were known to sell to just about anyone over 5 feet 9 inches. We then drank can after can in somebody's parents' car or basement when the adults were away. It usually ended with some foolishness, uncontrollable laughter and often, vomiting. 

Loads of fun.

Top Draft Picks at Druid Hill Park

One of the rules in pickup basketball is first-come, first-play. That is, those who show up to the
basketball court first are the first to play. Generally there are a lot more players than there are courts to accommodate them, especially in urban areas so some method has to be arrived at to allocate the scarce resource.*

One day back in 1991 my friend, Don and I went to Druid Hill Park in Baltimore which had a reputation for some good basketball being played. We went on a Sunday just after lunch and the action hadn't really heated up yet. In fact, no games had started and that meant Don and I would get at least one game in. Had we shown up when there were games already in progress, the activity at Druid Hill Park is so heavy that it's likely we would have had to wait two or three games to get into one ourselves--if we succeeded at all.

Just a Label

[Note: I will use a certain term below which is offensive to many blacks. Of course, I don't mean  to inflame any negative emotions or to taunt anyone but I merely use this term to illustrate an odd situation that  happened to me playing basketball one day. I mention it because I would like to lessen the severity of the objectionable term and hope that this may contribute to that end. If the reader wishes to avoid seeing this term, which is a mutation of the Spanish and French terms for black, negra, then they are urged to discontinue reading now. I have italicized this term in the same way that foreign language terms are italicized under normal editorial guidelines.]

One day in Baltimore I was involved in a game with nine other black guys; in other words, I was the only white guy on either team. And on this particular day, it so happened that I was having a fantastic game. It's something that at some point happens to just about everyone who has a hobby or other game they enjoy wherein practically everything happens exactly as it is supposed to. Almost everyone experiences this: golfers and bowlers and probably bridge players, too and it's nothing more than dumb luck. I am by no means a better player than the nine other guys in that particular game in Baltimore that day, but it just happened that every one of my shots hit the mark--even the most awkward and off-balance of them.

Jackson-Jackass, National Bo

In my neighborhood as a kid, there was a kid whose father was a real pistol. He was of the no-nonsense World War II generation and he had trouble seeing the foolishness that the second half of the century brought us, particularly among us teenagers. He made quips about popular culture and people in it some of which I carry to this day.

For example, he called Michael Jackson, "Michael Jackass" and thought he was real cute about it. This man watched Michael Jackson grow from a small boy into what he considered an eventual freak. He loathed almost anyone who was famous but had real some pet-hates that he wouldn't leave alone. Michael Jackson was one of them. 

I was at the age where when he said, Jackass instead of Jackson, I took it and ran with it. Everyone became fair game: Phil Jackass, Samuel L. Jackass, Bo Jackass and even president Andrew Jackass. 

It's awful of me to write this and I'm sure this term unfairly describes those mentioned above and the world population of Jacksons. I wouldn't say this to any of those I've listed above but I only include them here as examples. I never say it aloud but only mentally but it is a compulsion owing to my acquaintance of this particular schoolmate's father. Maybe writing this blog about it will rid me of the nasty habit.

The compulsion I had with repeating everyone's last name this way reminds me of another compulsion with substituting a word. I went to college in Baltimore in the 1980s and at the time the locally brewed rotgut beer was National Bohemian. This was in the days before micro-brews and artisan beers. National Bohemian and its sister brand, National Premium, were brewed and bottled en masse on the outskirts of the city. 

We referred to it so frequently in my day that we shortened it from the Baltimorese, "National Bo" to our local, "Natty Bo." 
Sometimes after an especially bad hangover, you'd call it Nasty Bo.

But the enduring name with me was Natty Bo. I became a habit and I began extending it to everything with National in its name. The pro-baseball's Natty League. Natty Aquarium. But then I got a job at the Smithsonian where almost every edifice is named the National Museum of  . . . (Natty Museum of . . . see? I can't resist).