As in 'Ronnie' our Town's 50% Native Indian...and the fastest runner you ever saw.
Growing up in small town ...well actually village - Ontario in the 1950s and 60s we did not have computers nor cell phones and the like and, if we were not on our bikes, we'd be playing sports: Hockey, Football, and Baseball mostly.
I personally preferred Baseball and for most of those formative years played Softball. But in the early 1960s that was to change...thanks to Harry, the High School Principal, Hardball was introduced to us aspiring athletes.
And I remember well our first coach, 'Loser' Ed and not because Ed was a Loser rather it was because he simply liked to lose or more specifically, for some reason he did not want our fledgling team to win any games.
So for the two years under his stewardship we lost and boy were we good at it.
When the dust settled on the final out, Coach Ed has us all lined up to congratulate the winning team...not us, on their great victory over us. It was something to behold.
If any of the guys played well...he was pulled, if our pitcher seemed on the verge of winning...he was replaced. I remember more than once being scolded for 'stealing' a base, why you would have thought I was committing a personal affront toward the other team.
Loser Ed had it down pat.
For Ed, one could not be a good sport unless they had lost.
In our Third Season, Ed was replaced by Coach 'King' for Kingsley and unlike Loser Ed, King liked to win. It was an entirely new concept for us.
Our first game of the season took place in Trenton a community 5 or 6 times bigger than our own. The league's age group was 12 to 14 year olds with each team being allowed two overage players of the ripe age of 15. I was one of the two.
Coach King's winning spirit had rubbed off on us and despite our losing record from the two years gone by, we had high hopes for our inaugural game of the year.
These high hopes lasted for part of the first inning after which it was a total and complete route.
We got hammered. The score board did not have sufficient numbers to record the other Team's output.
Even Loser Ed would have bowed his head in shame.
As we left the park with our bats between our legs ...so to speak, we had but one and only one thing on our minds...this was a home and home series, so in game two we'd be playing these self-same destroyers once again.
While driving home, Coach King asked me if I had any suggestions for the return game...you could see the terror in his eyes.
"As a matter of fact I do." And to my surprise, he liked it.
The following Saturday afternoon was soon upon us and a grand day for baseball it was.
It was quite apparent as we were about to begin battle that one of the teams was entirely different from the one that played a mere week earlier. Instead of of 12 to 14 year olds, our team was now composed of 15 and 16 year olds, including Coach King's own son Randy who never missed a ball at short.
I was ready for a howl of complaint from the Trentonians but ne're a peep was made.
And here is where Newt came into things. Ronnie played Centre Field but with his fleetness of foot he could and did cover the entire outfield. He ran, somersaulted and caught anything and everything that had the temerity to enter into his realm.
You can just imagine how upset the Trenton Team was ...
But you would be wrong. They cheered louder for our Newt and his antics than we did ...his own team-mates. We of course had seen Ronnie in action over the years but this was their first exposure and they were mesmerized.
It did not matter that Ronnie and the rest of us were over-age, the Trenton guys were simply pleased to have played a team that was not a pushover for them and that we did it in such an entertaining and enjoyable way.
Coach Ed was right, there are more important things than winning...even though we won that particular game so many years ago.
As I see it...
'K.D. Galagher'
