Bob

Reflections form #10 - BOB

124 Owasco Street-The Greatest Sports Complex Ever

The mammoth red Victorian in which I grew up was constantly  filled  with  love and activity. Walking in from the front door, you had an entrance hallway, that was in a sense for myself and my brother Peter an indoor playground. While most homes have the customary side yards and swing sets, when anything is do e in a Ringwood way, its approach is sometimes unorthodox and/or unusual. Case in point, the swing set was used for obvious reasons; to entertain the young kids, but it also was utilized as a mechanism for which to tie Brother Bob to, along with trees. Bob growing up was a little high strung. He liked to wonder off whenever the chance presented itself, one time being rescued by Ted Graney near the corner of Owasco Street and Lake Avenue. There are pictures of Prince (our loyal and smart German shepherd) meandering around the lot free, while Bob is tied to a tree or the swing set.

But the great thing about growing up in the big, red house was there were so many rooms to wonder  off  to  and  hide. It also provided a perfect forum to play so  many sports. While l am always so awe stricken every time I hear about the various forts and games my older siblings played while living there, and this was before Grandmother Bernie came to live with us, I hope they can appreciate how inventive we (Paul, Dave, Pete and Bob) were in our younger days.

The set up of the outside "stadium” was as following: facing the front of the house from Owasco Street, side yard on the left next to the Quinn's grandmothers apartment, driveway up that side of the house to the garage, parking areas on right, in front of Dad's garden and on left. Big red garage, with  an attic, just beyond the end of the driveway. Back yard, directly behind the house, off of Bernie's back porch. Not necessarily off limits, but this was the area where outside furniture was set up and where the family ate many a summer meal. And then there was the side yard on the right hand side of the house near the Spences home, off of one of Bernie' s porches. For someone, who just moved in, Bernie quickly occupied two porches. This side yard was also off the front of the house near the big white swing just off of  family room.The inside stadium was focused for the most part to one general area, the front hallway and front stairs.

The activities, were many both inside and out, frisbee, golf, football, baseball, basketball,fumblitis, whiffle ball, tobogganing, hockey, dodgeball and snowball wars. My earliest recollections were playing frisbee with Brother Mike in the-side yard. We were both quite good at tossing that thing to one another. The thing about Mike that puzzles me to this day is this, god knows how old Mike  is , but the fact is or was that Mike was out of college while I was still a little runt and yet here .is.my big brother-F with that thing under his nose (mustache), who was so willing to find the time to play with his kid brother. At his wedding dinner rehearsal, while happy that he found Marilyn, I was perplexed to ask, " Who is gonna play frisbee with me?"

Enter Brother Peter. Peter and I were combatants in those early days, but I am glad to report that we are true comrades to this day. Peter assumed the position of Mike, upper portion of the yard near the garage, me back to the street. As smart as Peter was, he also was a very demented young boy because Peter liked to throw the "bee" well beyond me into the street and on coming traffic to see if his brother would go fetch it.,It  sad to admit, but yes there I would go after the flying disc oblivious to traffic. I must be a cat, for I am certain I have lived nine lives. I spent more time in Owasco Street than I did in the side yard. The objective from our two vantage points. were, see if Bob is stupid enough to chase after the "bee"  into Owasco Street (he was). For Peter, send him into the back trees/bushes that aligned our property with our evil nemesis (the Aversa's,.why. nemesis, cause they had a pool and were generally unfriendly) and or the red barn just behind our garage. Bee is just but one sport in which we spent countless hours playing. There was your assortment of football and baseball as well. Football, first. Brother's Paul, Dave, Pete and Bob practiced in the side yard for the annual Punt Pass and Kick (PPK) contest. Peter was the superior athlete in this regard, having qualified to compete at half time at a Bills game in Buffalo. I can recall competing and finishing 2nd on one occasion. The quirky thing about the competition was that is was sponsored by Ford so the local competitions were ·held at the dealership. The competitions were conducted on pavement and yet it seemed unusual that they·  held either at Holland Stadium or the Y field. I think the whole point of  the competition was to get parents to look and hopefully purchase-a new car on Ford’s part. However:, the best thing about the PPK was the awarding of the trophy, a  solid gold,  metal football player with a goal post in the background. None of the plastic crap you see today. These things were solid. The side yard on the dining room side was perfect for football, with the edge of the left end parking area of the driveway one goal line and the two big trees on the other end serving the same purpose. Until the yard was re-sodded, there were a number of tree roots you had to avoid in the middle of the yard. One game remains in my memory to this day.

Pete and I  are playing one on one; of course Pete is  kicking the pants  of his younger brother. However, at one point with the game decided in Peter's favor, he kicks off to me in the upper part of the yard. With the two trees on the other end of the  yard as  my site of destination, and Owasco.Street just beyond, Bob throws fake move on Peter and races down the.side end of the yard to score untouched.  Unbeknownst to me is the drill sergeant (Dad) observing from his perch in the dining room, a great room with multiple windows for him to observe the action on the field. There in front of him, he observes his two youngest boys run past the goal line, past he sidewalk and directly into Owasco Street without even looking  for on coming traffic.

When Prince ever got into trouble with Dad, and often times he did  for he had a penchant to chase both motorcycles and busses, Dad would yell at him and  Prince knew by the  tone in Dad's voice that he was going to be disciplined in some manner. He would then creep up the side yard to postpone the spanking that would soon their follow.Thus, after crossing Owasco 'Street and landing in Smitty's front yard; a weird old timer that lived across the street from us, little time passed before the words were bellowed and heard throughout-the neighborhood '' Peter and Robert, “Get.in here' Being referred to as Robert by either Mom or Dad was never a good sign and usually meant I was in trouble. Dad was upset and had every right to be for what was a pleasant afternoon, could have ended with tragic results.  The only Memories following the words were the sojourn up the side of the yard, like Prince, and crossing Dad’s path in the kitchen and literally getting kicked in the tush and probably grounded for a period of time.

The teams for baseball were Pete  and David against team numero uno, Paul and Bob. Going deep was challenging for the yard was surrounded with trees through out. The best offensive scheme was trying to hit a shot down the first base line that skipped off the driveway, into Dad’s flower garden and hopefully into the backyard for a stand- up homer.

Everyone at some point was involved in the sports activities at the Owasco Street Stadium. Grandmoher Bernie (a huge Muhammad A1i and Reggie Jackson fan) served as umpire from her rocker in the dining room, siding with Ringwood boys against the Quinns. There was the softball game the family played in which Dad pitched to Mom, with Mom wearing a batting helmet. For a youngster eye's it was an experience  to  see Mom  play.  I  personally  never thought she was capable of doing such things as playing softball. Bowling yes, but softball?! I  recall Dad beaming Mom in the arm.

Tom was forever playing hoops in the driveway, perfecting the art of the hook shot, Jack (the Bob Cousy fan) developing his one handed, underhanded bowling shot, rough house 21 (a great game where basketball and football are combined, fouling is encouraged and if a shot is made you are rewarded with two points and a free.trip to the free throw line where you are allowed to shoot for an additional one point until you miss, first one to 21 wins) and, who will forget the half court shot that Bob nailed that cost Dad $10, made from just beyond the back door.

The driveway was an  oasis for me in my young pays. Basketball in the summer, spring and fall, hockey in the winter and games that were developed as we went along. Peter and I developed ed a unique version of handball that involved either a racquetball or tennis ball. The point of the game was to bounce the ball off the backboard, catch it either on the fly or on one hop with the ball landing inside the basketball lines. Inability to do this led to a point to the other competitor, first one to '12 wins. In high school years and the evolution of the dunk, the vertically challenged were demoted to utilizing a heavy steel box used for storing fire wood that was used as a spring board for the purpose of dunking. It’s amazing the back board never came off the garage, however on moving day in May/June 1987, it was fitting that David brought it down officially ending an era.

Golf, yes golf  was  and is a passion of the  Ringwood Family.   There was a driving range in the attic (heavy duty blankets hung from the ceiling allowing irons to be struck off a driving mat) and a putting green (resodded grass formulated into a green) and sand bunker (large mound of earth dug up) off to the left of the garage where the dead apple tree used to reside. The two side yards provided numerous opportunities for a shortened course, nine irons only, such as Hole I, tee just between 2nd and 3rd base to the pricker bush at the end of the driveway. Hole 2 was located from that pricker bush to the bush just before Spences, front right hand corner of side yard on Bernie’s side.  There was a multitude of other holes as well used in all three yards.

As our games developed, we got daring, which included hitting flop shots from the side yard on Bernie's side to the back yard. Of course there was the day a neighbor from across the street [Teresa can you help me out here with names?] that charged our front door and accused Sweet Pete of breaking his back window. Dad's retort, "How could my son have broken your back window ?" This was a window facing the Owasco outlet, that we as youngsters, had no access to whatsoever. The reply, "Well maybe his shot ricocheted off a tree." As bad of a golfer I would like to think of Peter as being, that shot was virtually impossible.

Of course, friends were a part of the picture. The Hogan's were always up to something when they teamed up with the Ringwood's. The Hogan's, another gigantic Irish Roman Catholic family with 12 children, were and are dear extensions of our family. Grandmother Bernie absolutely loved the Hogan's, Pat and Joe in particular, because they treated her as if she was their grandmother. Every time they came over they would always go see Bernie and disrupt her daily viewing of Kung Fu (no TV remotes in those days) and lay a kiss on her cheek.·One time, Patrick came over to screw around and after checking in with Bernie he proceed_ed to go in the cellar, grab a bunch of golf balls and a club, marched to the side yard and started hitting golf balls not over, but at, Smitty's house across the street. While the structure was constantly on the verge of being condemned, I had to run out and remind Hoagie that Smitty hadn't died yet and that the premises was still occupied. The Hogans were always good for laughs too whether it was playing acey ducy (poker- a New Year's eve ritual sleep over game that was financially supported with paper route money) or golf. As Peter always said, the Hoagies always get off to a good start but their luck eventually runs out. One time in particular I was at Skaneateles Country Club where Pat Hogan and I played in Monday morning league play. Hoagie played the first five holes quite well, then took a  huge  number on  either  hole 5 or 6  which led Hoagie  to make a drastic change to his game, divots anywhere and everywhere, driving with his putter and putting with his driver.

Bernie's side yard was the next outside location utilized. Why? Because it had grass and was a much safer playing surface to dig up, especially for fumblitiz. This is a game where one player runs with the ball and is chased and tackled by all other participants , and upon being tackled, the ball must be fumbled. Wiffle ball and badminton (if it was an Olympic sport I'd be a champion) were fond games played here. Wiflle ball action had the same teams of Dave/Pete vs. Paul/B ob. The challenge here was that facing the backyard you had  two sets of  thick bushes in right and left field, which were great for games of jailbreak. However, you had a clearing up the middle of the brush, which took you to the backyard. Fly balls landing in the bushes were considered foul balls, so the best bet was to hit a line drive up the middle into the clearing, which was in play. David, always one for theatrics much like his heroes of Bart Starr and Johnny Bench, was always willing to dive into the bushes for catching balls before they landed were  still outs. This trademark David handed down to Bob:

Then there was the wacky games of  dodge the hippity  hop,  which  Jack loved  to play with  his two youngest brothers and of course snow balls. I always considered snowballing an offensive minded sport, for it involved the art of developing the perfect missile, the accuracy of the throw and then the fun part of the chase, running from those that were used as targets. Again, Bernie's side of the house was the perfect trench to engage in war. You had coverage with the bushes but enough light to indicate when cars were forthcoming.

There was the time when Mom was out (Mom was always "out" on such occasions) and Paul, Dave, Pete and Bob were to tend to themselves for dinner. Paul has many nicknames in the family (Mr. Christmas, Oshe Moto, founder of the Auburn Chapter of the Julio Inglesis Fan Club, Mr. Great Race, Mr. Owasco Club, Greg Brady, Johnny Bravo and Big Jerk). Anyway,Paul always had     Control l of his temper and on this night, Paul acting in his supervisory ordered everyone to clean up the kitchen. As this duty came to a conclusion, the boys were wondering what to do with the leftover potatoes What else, lets go throw them at cars. I am going to save the Jack/Peter "Jack did it." story for another time. But I will share this other snowball story  which involves,  Peter, Bob, Tom and Dennis Quinn. Still too  young to know better, we were peppering cars from the driveway . Incidentally Peter ended  up hitting a woman on the side of her face, who for reasons  unbeknownst to us, had her window down while driving. The screeching of the car coming to a halt led the boys to a mad dash. Correct me if I'm wrong, (Mom will) but 1 am of the belief that if you decide to drive in the wintertime with your window down, you deserve to be pummeled by snowballs. I can recall, trying to run up the driveway and falling on every step since the driveway was caked in ice. Laughing my head off, l knew it was only a matter of time for the car to pull into the driveway. I ended up having to get in the yard to find snow and more importantly traction. I was the last to catch up with my fellow hoods in the back corner of the back yard by Spences garage, which was used as a cut-through to Augustus Street. We could hear the woman discussing the situation with Brother Paul and her informing him that she was going to call the National Guard on us. Paul ended up getting in a shouting match with her (temper lost). He probably called her a "big jerk". He sent the Quinns home and directed us to come inside, but Mom was not apprised of the matter.

The other time was when I discovered that the best place to throw snowballs from the best possible vantage point was the roof of the house, off Paul's bedroom. It was optimal because it  provided camouflage and an excellent point of view to see cars on Owasco Street heading towards Lake Ave.  Boldly, I managed to finagle my way up to the highest point of the house where you were literally over Owasco Street where snowballs literally could be dropped onto unsuspecting drivers.

Last but not least there was the Tracey incident. Peter and I had a paper route that included lower Frances Street, Bradford Street and Owasco Street. On our way to Frances Street, where we would leave the papers on the top of the street, we would always come across a young boy, younger than I, who I believed to be named Dick Tracey. This little runt would always mouth off at Peter and me. He lived near Frances Street where the verbal confrontations  ensued on a daily basis. For some reason, on a winter's day we came across him on Owasco Street. This little punk was always smart enough to station himself across the street from us knowing a pounding was coming his way. On this day, as Tracey's mouth started to run off, Peter and1 put our newspapers down and Peter ordered me to throw a snow ball up high over his head. Not understanding why, I obeyed. So I proceeded to loft one up high and as the little weasel's eyes followed the trajectory knowing shot number one was off, he was caught off guard, unaware shot number two had been launched and was incoming at his face. Peter had reared back and threw a cannon, a missile, Tracey's way.

I  never liked the terminology in the movie Field of Dreams, "Dad do you want to have a catch?" Don't get me wrong, it's a tearjerker of a movie, right up there with  Brian's Song. But the term should be, "Do you want to play catch?" Anyway, "playing catch" with Peter was always a chore because it always led to a throbbing left hand. Peter knew how to put zip and heat on his throws. I sometimes resorted to wearing a golf glove to relieve myself of the pain or attempted to catch the ball in the web of the mitt. Peter had a gun for an arm. I remember in a Pony League game at Farrell Field Peter put a fellow competitor in a sling, accidentally beaming him. Peter was a dominant pitcher because most batters were just too frightened to step into the batters box with him on the mound.But, back to Tracey. Tracey catches Pete's bulletin flush in the eye with such force that he is airborne collapsing on his back with both legs taken out from underneath him. It was a direct hit. Immediately, Peter and I run to his aid. He lived, but since that day, I can guarantee you that he has a twitch in his eye resulting from the injury he sustained. However, since that day, Tracey never mouthed off to us again.

We had a snowmobile that I bet lasted all of one day when Tom took me for a ride in the backyard and made a pass for the clearing to the front yard that led to my falling off. "Too dangerous!" Dad pronounced.

Then there was the modem day Forum that was the front hallway, which served multi-purposes, including basketball that was really was basketball, hockey, and  golf The door to the dining room served  as the  basket  since  it was  never closed so there  was a small opening where it was attached to the wall in the hallway. Hoops in the hallway and numerous dunks and body checks led to a huge indentation of the doorknob banging into the hallway wall. Mother was none too pleased. Basketball played in the front hallway led to many delays to the commencement of the paper route. The linoleum floor by the front door under the chandelier was where the ball was taken out. The beauty of the room was that there was a ledge from the entrance way from the hallway to the dining room that served as a hanging device for the purposes of dunking. Tennis balls, racquetballs and or nerf balls served as the basketball. The nerf balls were especially  fun since goal tending was allowed and rewarded. The nerf balls floated in the air forever and were so easy to reject. Putting contests were often held with the old metal round circular mechanisms that had the little inclinations just before the center that would send balls back if not stricken with enough authority. We used to putt in the same direction in which basketball was played. However, we also would go in the reverse direction, with the linoleum floor serving as a water hazard. Dad would participate too at times. Hockey also was played, even though no one played competitively in the family we left that to the Hogans. Peter had to defend the larger      of the two goals, near the front door by the linoleum floor.  I had the entrance way to the dining room. "Kick save and beauty" were the calls of the day. Of course Mom didn't share those words when Peter sent a racquetball over my head into the dining room, taking out a glass candle chandelier cover on the dining room table. The other game and not typically associated as a sport was Bowling for Soldiers, not to be confused with Bowling for Dollars. Peter and I would assemble our men at opposite ends of the hallway and then would proceed to roll a golf ball towards the opponent' s army. If the ball knocked over a standing soldier, he was dead. Peter would always win cause he would always position his laying down sniper carefully situated behind his tanks, making it virtually impossible for me to take him out And we can't forget bobsledding on our tummies down that magnificent front stairs to  the bottom  of  that  unique curving  staircase.  Can  you  say rug  burn? We  were  also adept  at  sliding down the stair railing as well.

The big white swing (a modem day trampoline) on the front of the house off  the family room was another unique component of this fun house I was fortunate enough  to  be  raised  in. The plan of attack was to get as many people on that swing and swing them as  high as  possible,  over the pricker bush to the side yard. I was never there, but there are stories of the swing coming unattached to the roof with neighborhood friends sent flying into the yard. Pete and I were fond of placing our first niece and nephew, Kelly and Patrick on the swing and providing them with some serious hang time.

The back yard was the area of our house that was used to host wedding receptions and photos, family reunions, laundry detail, barbecues during the summer months and birthday and high school graduation celebrations. But most importantly, the sole purpose of  the  backyard  was to report to Dad, Mom, Bernie and our brothers and sisters the results of our various sports activities that had taken a place on the numerous ball fields throughout Auburn and what had occurred during the course of our day.

As I look back on my first twenty years of existence on this earth, my heart is quite heavy when thoughts of the big red house come into play. There is an old song that reminds me of my youth by the group, Chicago, entitled ""Old Days" with a line that goes, "Old days, good times I remember, fun days, days I'll always treasure... " The same is true when I reminisce of 124 Owasco Street.