Courage to Live The Good Life

I want to tell you a magnificent story about human courage and love. The story is about my father. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, no! Not another “my father’s great story” Well…in a way it is a story like that. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not ashamed about bragging on my father. Every son should think that his father is the greatest. Unfortunately,that’s not always the case, but for me there is nothing more true. I believe that I am a very objective person. I’ve been all over this country and I’ve had the opportunity to visit a few others. I’m sure I have met thousands of people, but I can honestly say that I have never met a man as great as my father, and I have met some truly great men. He’s a beautiful, wonderful human being. Always positive,smiling and always moving forward. He’s a doer, not a dreamer: a listener, not a talker: a leader, certainly not a follower. Honest, hardworking, intelligent and powerful, he’s simply an awesome force. He’s everything that I ever want to be.

The story I am about to tell you has nothing to do with the love and devotion I have for my father. Rather it reflects the love and devotion my father had for another man - a black man. It was over thirty years ago that the events of this story took place. If my memory serves me right, I was five years old. At the time my father was one of the best softball pitchers (fast pitch) in America. That’s not a proud son talking, but rather the record book speaking. In the years that he pitched, his winning percentage was well over ninety percent. It was nothing for him to strike out sixteen or seventeen batters in a seven inning game. And when it came to no-hitters, I doubt if anyone in the nation (with the exception of the great Eddie Fegner) had more. In one season alone he threw 21 no-hit games. Not surprisingly, at the beginning of each season my father was deluged by teams who wanted him to play for them, and it was routine for other teams to “pick him up” to play in weekend tournaments. He was just that great.

If there was one pitcher in the entire state of Pennsylvania who had a chance of beating my father, it was Odie Threadford. It’s rather ironic because my father had a hand in Odie’s pitching so to speak. In fact, Odie was quite open about the fact that if it wasn’t for my dad, he would never have gotten into pitching. It might be noted that a pitcher of Odie or my dad’s calibre could make some pretty good money (under the-table)

Well as the story goes, in one weekend tournament both Odie and my dad were �picked up’ by the Allentown Patriots. The Patriots were a softball powerhouse, as they still are to this very day. Anyway, in the first game my dad pitched a one or two hitter for the win. That was followed by a similar performance by Odie. In all candor, with my dad and Odie, the Patriots really weren�t challenged by the other teams.

After the second game was over, the entire team went to the picnic area to eat lunch. When we got to the pavilion, everyone sat at the tables except for Odie, my dad and myself. We sat out under a large oak tree and ate. After we finished our meal, Odie got up and walked back to the ball field to watch the game that was in progress. A few minutes later after Odie had left, one of the ballplayers from our team walked over to my dad and spoke. �We all know Odie�s a good guy, but he needs to learn his place. It�s one thing for a nigger to play with us, but that doesn�t mean he has to eat with us.’ I�m not positive if that was the exact dialogue, but be assured it was on that order, and I am positive that he used the word �nigger’ because that was the first time I had ever heard it. I might not remember exactly what he said, but I do remember exactly how my dad reacted. Basically he went from a zombie to a flame-smoking asskicker. First, he let the ballplayer know in no uncertain terms that he wasn�t going to listen to that kind of talk.He also informed him that Odie was not only a great pitcher, but a great person and that he was honored that Odie considered him a friend. My dad then walked over to the pavilion and informed the rest of the team that Odie wasn’t just a good friend, but a man that he admired and loved, and that if that caused a problem, he would be glad to get his things and go home.

At the time I was too young to realIy appreciate what was going on. Years later, looking back on the situation, I was able to understand the significance of the event. First of all, I believe it took a lot of guts to do what my dad did. It would have been easy for him to just ignore the player’s comment Odie would never have known, and he would have remained in good graces with the rest of the team. That wasn’t my dad though. He realized that by saying nothing, his silence would be interpreted as condoning such hatred, prejudice and destruction. More importantly, he realized that his actions would have a profound impact on the way I would think and act later on in life.

Ever since I can remember my father championed the rights of others. Believe me, I heard his little lecture on human rights and dignity a few thousand times when I was growing up. Still, it’s one thing to talk about loving and caring for others and another thing to live your life in that manner. Like I said, I think it took a lot of guts to do what my father did, especially when you consider the day and time. I doubt seriously if many men would have had the gumption to stand alone against a whole team on such a sensitive issue. Amazingly though, just about everyone on the team apologized to my dad and insisted that he stay with the team.

There’s two other things I remember about that day After my dad’s confrontation with the team, he took me aside and told me not to tell Odie about what had happened. I didn’t tell Odie but I can honestly say that I realIy don’t have a clear grasp as to what had transpired. As it turned out however, someone did tell Odie. On the way home after the tournament, which by the way the Patriots won and my dad received the MVP, Odie turned to my dad. I remember exactly what he said: “I heard what you did today. you know you could have gotten killed. Worse yet, you could have gotten both of us killed. You’re crazy… No, you’re the best Inny. I agree with you Odie. He was the best.

My father died on May 18, 1986. A wonderful husband, a fantastic father, and a great human. He has everything that I ever want to be.

I miss and love you, Pop.

Article Source: Iron Curtain Labs