It has been brought to my attention there are far more regular readers of this weekly, and more specifically this column, than I ever imagined. Therefore I am going to make a concerted effort to step up the quality of narratives produced. Starting with this one.
Who would have ever guessed that some would be taking bets on which Green brother, Tom Green or Tim Green was the State Representative responsible for hitting me on the back, repeatedly, with an aluminum baseball bat. No way! Had you paid close attention to the teaser, I stated from “Florrisant.” Both Green brothers are originally from Spanish Lake, although Tom now makes his home in beautiful St. Charles City. Timmy still represents the Spanish Lake area, only now in the Chamber across the hall from the House. Tommy had his seat stolen this past November; his opponent, and her party used some of the most unethical, and possibly illegal campaign methods I have ever seen used. But I digress. No, it was not either of the Brothers’ Green. Although separated in age by a dozen years, I did graduate from the same grade school as both brothers. Between the years of 1968 and 1980, St. Aloysius produced all three of us. It is now closed; there is no correlation between the two, thank you.
No, my story deals with, at the time was one of the most powerful and influential politicians in the State. It all started, innocently enough, at a softball game at a park in Berkeley. The teams involved were “Dave Godat’s Auto Body” and “B.J.’s Bar and Grill.” The exact year I am not sure of, yet I suspect it was between 1978 and 1980. At the time I was a “lean, mean fighting machine,” with very little common sense and even less good judgment (funny how some things never change). The position I was assigned to play defensively was catcher. My duties were simple enough: catch the ball from the pitcher and return it to the pitcher. I could do that. Of course I took it upon my self to step up my job description a tad. Should there be any play at the plate I was going to block the plate as efficiently as I could – collisions worried me not. As fate would have it there were not one, but two “collisions” at the plate. The umpire gave me a gentle warning after the first, a more formal “if it happens again you’re out of the game” ultimatum after the second. No problem, I knew when to lay low.
I was clearly “fortune’s fool.” I lead off the next inning and reached base with a hit. Somehow I ended up at third base and one out. The batter sharply hit a grounder to the second baseman; I was sure I could beat the throw to the plate, and I almost did. Funny how things seem to go in slow motion sometimes. It was if it happened yesterday. I remember racing to home plate and seeing the catcher catch the ball. There he stood, ready to cleanly tag me out. I remember the umpires warning too. “If you nail another person at home plate you are out of the game.” Ah, but he was speaking defensively, and I was in an offensive position. Naturally, I threw my body at the catcher in an attempt to dislodge the ball from him. Heh, that’s how they do it on television! And it worked; I knocked the catcher back about 5 feet or so and separated him from the ball. The umpire had no choice but to call me safe. Wrong! Not only was I called out, I was thrown out of the game. I felt terrible. As I walked back to the dugout, head hung in embarrassment, our captain went out to argue his case. My ejection meant we no longer had the necessary number of players to complete the game; we would have to forfeit. I really did feel terrible.
I knew I had to try and plead my case to the umpire, so I ran out to the discussion being held at home plate. As soon as I got there, our captain had obviously had enough discussion as he proceeded to throw a punch at one of the players on the other team. Fortune’s fool! This was entirely my fault, and I knew it, so I had to do the honorable thing, I threw a punch, and landed it on the opposing teams biggest player. He went down, I went down, and unlike the brawls you see on television involving baseball players, this one was for real! It was ugly. Suddenly I felt a rather sharp, stinging sensation in my back, unlike I had ever felt before. The feeling repeated itself again and I realized someone was hitting me in the back with something. It was uncomfortable enough it took my attention away from matters at hand – as it was designed to do. There was this old man (probably 50, as I am today) standing there with an aluminum bat, challenging me, and telling me to get off his son. I did as he instructed, not because of the instruction, but more because my back was hurting so much, and even more so I had every intent to remove the bat from the gentleman.
Everything happened so quickly, or so it seemed. Before I could get to the gentleman with the bat, Berkeley’s finest showed up in full riot gear, no kidding. After things were sorted out I was asked if I wanted to press charges. Me, press charges? Hell, I started the whole thing, why would I press charges? “Do you know who that guy was who was assaulting you?” asked the officer. Sure I knew, it was the biggest guy on the team’s dad. Even I figured that out. It seems the gentleman was the owner of the sponsoring franchise, “B.J.’s Bar and Grill.” My new friend was none other than the honorable James “Jay” Russell.
Strange as it may seem, I was contacted repeatedly by the old Globe-Democrat, to confirm the story. I didn’t even have to tell them what happened, just confirm what they had heard had happened. No way man! This man was one of the leading Democrats in the state; not that I was afraid of him, hell, he had already assaulted me with a bat – no, this had to do with respect for a man and his position. Until this article only those present knew what had happened.
A few years later I was working for the railroad and was transferred to Jeff City. One of the local drinking establishments was a place called Madison’s Café. The front was a restaurant, the back was a bar. Most, no all of my time was spent in the back. I made friends with some of the locals, almost all of whom worked in State Government. One evening I spotted someone who looked familiar and asked if anyone knew who it was. “That’s Jay Russell, one of the most powerful and influential men in the entire state,” I was informed.
I walked up to him, asked him if he remembered the time he hit me in the back with a baseball bat, and both of his colleagues (no kidding now) reached into their coats, just like on television. As it turned out he did remember, and he bought me a drink or six.
Why tell this story? I don’t know. I think it has a theme – and the theme is loyalty, I think. No way I could turn on what I considered to be “my party,” no way in the world. Interestingly, The Post never contacted me. Funny how their perspective on things has changed so drastically. At least here in St. Charles they seem to cater to “the other side” now. Just thought I would share that with you.
