David
Heiller
A stop at Bissen’s Tavern the other day made my old brain click into action.
 |
| David never considered himself the star. And he never considered not playing. |
The Minnesota Twins had just lost another one-run game,
and the answer, at least a partial one, sat right there in front of me.
Gale
Kletzke.
If you grew up in
Brownsville in the 1950s and 60s, you are starting to tremble right now.
Gale was a softball
force then, and I have no doubt he could still put wobble
legs on a Major League pitcher.
He batted let
handed, which gave him an advantage on the Brownsville School softball field.
For one thing, he could knock the ball into the maple trees that grew there.
More often though, he just knocked
them onto Main Street and past Erma Bissen’s pump. Gale would lumber around the bases, head
down. No showboating in those days.
Once in a while he would get that Kletzke look, a glint in the eye, a bit of a
smile that tigers have when they eat raw meat. Then the Colleran house was fair game.
Kids sitting along the first base line would scramble
behind the backstop,
and Mrs. Colleran would come onto her front porch in the vain hope that Gale would change his mind. Then a missile
would streak through the air and into her bushes or living room.
OK Gardy, remember
that name. Kletzke. Just the sound of it should he enough to score a few runs.
But that’s not all. I have three more
suggestions.
Pete Scanlan: Pete was all muscle. A slugger like his cousin, Gale. He
looked like the proverbial brick outhouse, And he was fearless on the base-paths.
I remember one time, Pete hit the ball in the infield, and there was a close
play at first. My brother, Danny, was playing there, and he made the mistake of
not stepping out of Pete’s way. Boom!
Danny flew through the
air and landed on his back. He sat up,
and for a tense second we didn’t know what would
happen. Softball games could get pretty competitive, and no one had ever been
dumb enough to get in Pete’s way before. Then Danny fell backward, arms
out-stretched, Like he was dead. It was funny, and a rare smile crept onto Pete’s
face. It was a lesson I’ve always remembered: a little humor can go a long way.
• Larry
Boesen: Gardy, this guy is probably eight feet tall by now. He was a foot
bigger than everyone in his eighth grade class back in 1963. He had a little
hitch in his step, and he looked like Walter Brennan when he ran the base-paths.
But once he got a head of steam, he was like a freight train.
• Shirley
Ideker: I hate to say this, because Shirley played for the German Ridge
school, and they were our archrivals. But she was good! Big, muscular, solid.
In other words, an Ideker. She threw like a boy and not like other girls, whose
arms seemed to come out of their their shoulder sockets when they tried to
throw a ball.
| Go Twins |
What
I most remember about Shirley was how she played first base. That is the key
position in softball, because so many throws go there. Shirley never missed a
throw. If you hit the ball in the infield against the German Ridge team back
then, you were out, Thwack! I can still hear the sound of the ball hitting her
glove. A very discouraging sound.
And Shirley never aged. Every spring, we would
look to see if Shirley was still on the team, and Shirley would be there. I
think she got special permission throughout high school and college to return
to Brownsville for those softball games.
So there you have it, Gardy. Boesen in center,
Scanlan at third, Kletzke at DH, and Shirley Ideker at first. Problem solved.
Go Twins!
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