Written by Garret Mathews, author of Baseball Days: Recollections of America’s Favorite Pastime, available at Amazon.Com
I’m embarrassed to admit this. I know I’m NOT the only person who did such a thing. So I hope this will result in sports fans coming in from the cold and saying, “Me, too!”
For openers, I talked to myself when I was growing up. Nothing unusual so far. Lots of fifth-graders are their own best friends.
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I invented my own baseball and basketball teams.
I had my own imaginary athletes.
I had my own imaginary statistics.
I had my own imaginary playoffs.
And now for the big reveal.
I lay on the bed and tossed a bedroom slipper, all the while talking to myself about the exploits of my star player and his teammates.
Before you think I’m completely crazy, my father was a high school coach. There were enough balls and bats in the house to stock a sporting goods store.
I learned to count by watching a basketball scoreboard. I almost never missed one of Dad’s games. By the time I was 8 years old I had been to more towns and cities in southwest Virginia than a geography major.
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The bedroom slippers helped fill the void between games. I found out that I could talk to myself better when I was throwing something.
I tried a tennis ball, but I liked the way the slipper went end-over-end. I also wanted a challenge. The slipper left black marks on the ceiling. So, if Mom caught me, I was in big trouble.
I also need to tell you that I was a big fan of the Chip Hilton sports books written by Clair Bee. Not only was he Coach Rockwell’s best player, Chip was perfect in the classroom and perfect with girls.
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I wanted to be just like him. But until I could get older, Phil Stone – my alter ego and hero of my sports teams – would have to do.
I’ll take your questions.
QUESTION: “Let me get this straight. While the other kids at William King Elementary School were enjoying normal lives, you were tossing your bedroom slipper and pretending to be a jock.”
ANSWER: “That is an accurate assessment.”
QUESTION: “Are the black marks still on the bedroom ceiling?
ANSWER: “Yes. Mom finally gave up scrubbing.”
QUESTION: “Can you provide a sample of your monologue?”
ANSWER: “My team’s chief rival was Valley High. I wanted them to be as despicable as possible, so I made their coach a shameless braggart and their best player a candy bar thief.”
QUESTION: “Was Phil Stone’s team always the champion?”
ANSWER: “Of course. Real life is a rocky road. Slipper-tossing life should be rosy.”
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QUESTION: “What were Phil Stone’s baseball stats?”
ANSWER: “He never hit less than .600. In his crowning achievement as a pitcher, he struck out the Valley High coach who sneaked himself in the lineup during the playoffs.”
QUESTION: “Did you have a problem with family members listening in on your slipper sessions?”
ANSWER: “Yes. My younger brother would sneak down the hall and sit motionless by the bedroom door. I’d be in the middle of the title game when I’d hear giggling. I’d interrupt my commentary to beat the tar out of him. Naturally, Dan would tell on me. If my father was in a good mood, he’d ask how Phil’s team was doing. If he wasn’t, he’d take away my slippers.”
QUESTION: “Do you have any regrets?”
ANSWER: “Yes. Phil Stone never made the Hall of Fame.”
