Oh how I miss the sound of that red dodge ball as it bounced off the head of some poor soul fool enough to pick up one of the loose balls the coach would randomly throw in.
Punch and kickball in the school yard. The after school fight behind the 5 and dime. Ringalevio at night with 50 neighborhood kids, dirt bombs and itchy balls optional.
The bicycle daredevils who set up the ramps and tried to jump garbage cans, at least once a month a limb was broken, or stitches required. Every sport played on concrete, no helmets lest you be called Mary.
We climbed trees, fell out of them and the emergency room at the local hospital knew all the local kids by name. The trauma doctor that coached my baseball team told me to rub dirt on it after a nasty slide ripped my leg open. Then he called me Mary.
In the winter we played sled derby on the snow covered hills, someone always getting cut up or maneuvered into a tree. We went from neighborhood to neighborhood to play football and hockey against other teams.
A broken finger was fixed with hockey tape and an ice cream stick. A bloody nose was stopped by shoving something up your nose, Stitches during games was done by the dad who was the medic while in Korea. (usually my dad)
That’s what being a kid was about.
I remember dodgeball....
The kids were ruthless,lol. Head-hunting galore.
Thoroughly enjoyed your memories of a time when boys were taught young how to be men. Reminds me of my childhood when me and my dad were fishing at the bay shore. Someone else casting got a triple-hook caught in some poor kid's leg. My. dad pulled out his pocket knife, sterilized the blade over his zippo lighter and then dug the hook out of the kid's leg. Kid grimmaced but didn't cry.