Not quite! A few near misses and stumbles marked my early athletic career.

I was big guy. At one school sports day for all schools in Fort Wayne I was able to participate. And participate I did. First I threw the shot put–only 8 pounds in those early days. I felt ‘good’ while I was ‘warming up’. I hefted the shot on to my right shoulder cradled in my open hand. I took the required number of circles and thrust my shot high into the air…just missing a passing student.  At the same event I was  again ‘warming up’ but in the centre of the track. I was sure that everybody was watching me. So I bounded toward a low hurdle which was standing in the centre grassed area. Gracefully I took off showing my mastery of hurdling, caught my foot on the top of the hurdle and gracefully plummeted myself and the hurdle over onto the ground. The demonstration of my skill was more extraordinaire because the hurdle was  facing the wrong way with its feet facing the direction I was running.

When I rowed for Burbeck College I was part of another sports scene extraordinaire. This big guy rowed number 4 in the boat. We practiced for the Head of the River race day. The varsity crews of Oxford and Cambridge raced in the afternoon. We were given boat numbers in the sequence of participants There were 126 boats that day. despite our enthusiasm, one of our crew arrived at the boat house–late. We couldn’t take our place–our number had already passed. So we were given the last boat place in the race.  The crews rowed up river on the outside. Then they turned and raced down the centre of the river. We were progressing up river when  we suddenly came to the shore. The stroke had broken his oar on the rocks. He had a friend in this boathouse , ran up to borrow an oar and we continued–later than ever. What’s more our stroke decided to row up the centre and we received many angry shouts from the referee boats.  We did turn around. We did row like there was going to be no tomorrow—and came in as 126th best boat. What laughts we had when we regaled our heroic story over a few beers.

Next I was able to play tennis.  Ray Disch and I played together for a year at Teddington Sports area. I had a wicked serve which I couldn’t control. 6’3 Ray had an altitude advantage At the end of our season he had won 131 sets and I had won 13.

My real sport is golf. I love it and really regret that I cannot play anymore. My parents and I played many wonderful courses in America. One course had a mountain facing each hole. One hole had a mountain that looked like an old man on his back. When it snowed he aquired a white beard. At Baniff golf course the first hole teed off to a green 85 feet below.  Then Boccaraton in Florida had an amazing club house, but my favourite was Hots Springs, Virginia. To play the ‘Goats course’ on the side of a hill one needed one leg shorter than the other.  The Homestead  was a colonial style building with valley views, a cinema, a dance floor and lots of black staff to look after our every need.

I played golf from the age of 9 on the Country Club in Fort Wayne. Another lovely club house with restaurant, swimming pool tennis courts, a bar and a golf practice area. My parents were part of a Saturday Bridge club which met each week at someone’s home, set out four tables and played bridge, changing partners and discussing the finer techniques of playing. Their children and I made a group who partied, swam, played tennis and golf together. Lights in the pool made great evening swimming in the Summer.

One day I was playing with Phil Anabus. Not the brightest day . He was smaller than myself, but he was a better golfer and won tournaments at the Club. However, his game was not going as well as he wanted on this day. On the 7th green he missed hi s put. He putted first and then it was my turn. I took my putting stance, set my putting grip and started to bend over the ball when–wham–a putter dropped out of the sky and only missed my head by inches. Phil had lofted his putter in anger without realizing where it might land. It was a very near miss. I never played with Phil again!!

Still I continued to love golf requiring lots of individual skill on infinite ground positions and  guessed distances, into the wind, with cross winds, etc. At Pebblebeach Golf Course , Californa there is a short hole that tees straight toward a small green in the sea. What a challenge!  Many professionals miss the green and drop into the water.

This gives some idea of my sports prowess. {?} Next time  we’ll return to ‘Culver and beyond.’