The Slow Twitcher!

The last team I made was the fifth and sixth grade basketball team at Emerson Grade School.  I was short -- real short - five foot tall when I got out of the eighth grade.  I was known as a diligent defensive player.  My offensive career game high was four points, so you can see why I was a defensive specialist.   The primary reason I played good defense, as my father pointed out to me after watching me play from his seat above the floor of the old YMCA in Marion, was that I guarded my man at all times - even on offense.  When the coach told me to stick to my man I did.  I was and am good at following instructions from the coach - Mr. Mack, the grade school principal in regular life.

We actually had a pretty good team.  We won in the city championship.  We played the final at the Marion Coliseum before a Marion Giant game.  It was a big thrill.  We played Horace Mann Grade School from West Marion.  Many guys on Horace Mann would later become some of my best friends in high school.

From the Marion High School class of 1955 prophecy.  “Sam Arnold broke his own record in the 100 yard dash -50.1”  Unfortunately, that was not far from the truth.  Later I learned that I was a victim of slow-twitch muscle fibers.  It really is in the genes.  A slow twitcher can be an athlete, but no matter how hard a person works they will never be a more than a journeyman jock.

In junior high school we had a “decathlon” competition in the spring semester in connection with physical education class.  Points were earned on a scale based on how well you did as an individual in each event.  Theoretically, based on increasing strength and maturity, a student should win a bronze medal in the seventh grade, a silver in the eighth and a gold in the ninth.  In the late winter months we would do sit-ups, push-ups, chin-ups etc in the gym.  As the weather got better in the spring, we moved to outside events, 100 yard dash, standing and running broad-jump, pole vault etc.  It all culminated with an all-school field day where you took your final outdoor test to earn points.  The decathlon was the basis of the class prophecy statement.  I never won any medal in any grade.

My lack of athletic ability did not deter me from my overall love of sports and it didn’t stop me from trying out for baseball and basketball teams right up until my sophomore year in high school when I went out for baseball.  That was the last team I tried out for.  Naturally, I never survived the first cut in any sport I attempted.

I guess every boy passes that day when they realize there are others that are better.  One of the hardest times I had as a parent was to see your child come to the realization that they are not very good in athletics and that they were taking early retirement from team sports.  Both of my sons were cursed with the slow-twitch.

Tim loved basketball.  Tim continues to be an avid sport’s fan.  He is a real student of most all sports.  He was and is short.  He tried out for the sixth grade team at Saint Vincent’s Grade School in Fort Wayne.  When it came time for the final cuts, Tim didn’t make it and everyone in the carpool and his buddies made it.  It was difficult for him, and at least as difficult for me.  It was his first lesson in understanding that there are disappointments in life.  At the time though it was the most important thing in his life.  He went on to play association basketball in Fort Wayne and later in Yorba Linda, CA and then he too retired. 

Another sad time was in “Y” basketball in Fort Wayne.  They had a pretty good team.  His Grandpa and Grandma Arnold came up to seem him play.  Tim’s team got killed.  There is no other way to put it.  I don’t remember the final score, but I think they were behind twenty points before they scored their first basket.  He was totally embarrassed and even cried.  He was mad at me because I joked with him about how bad they played.  He didn’t see the humor in it.  I guess no kid would that was looking to show Grandma and Grandpa his best.  He had a pretty good shot and at least he participated.  He hung them up for good after the eighth grade.

Mark loved baseball.  He was a die-hard Cub fan.  He played little league in Yorba Linda and again in Eden Prairie.  He also had the curse of the slow-twitch.  He couldn’t field too well, was a weak hitter and above all slow as molasses.  At the start of his second season in Eden Prairie he gave it up and quit.

Tim has continued on in his love of sports, while Mark has moved on to movies, computer animation et al.

It is tough when, as a boy, you realize you don’t have the talent.  What is important is that you continue to search for something you enjoy and can be at least average.  I found that in golf.