WASATCH WILD CATS and OTHER FIFTH GRADE HIGHLIGHTS

EXPELLED FROM SCHOOL

Wasatch Elementary School. Provo, Utah.

    Fifth grade was coming to an end and leaving behind some great memories. I hadn't started out in Mr. Walker's class. The school had intentionally separated me from my pals and hooked me up with Mr. Scofield. My mother made such a fuss about me not having any friends in my new class that Principal Denham conceded and moved me into Mr. Walker’s class with Dick Thomas and company. I’m sure he was thrilled to see me!

        It didn’t take long before Dick Thomas and I were expelled for a day because Mr. Walker "Couldn't take us anymore!" Our constant chattering about things important to us was interrupting his teaching. Despite his warnings we couldn't help ourselves. Baseball WAS more important than his boring lessons. Oops! We had crossed the line. It was the last straw. We had stepped on the one and only nerve he had left! He yelled, "You're both expelled. Go straight home. I'm calling both your parents."

    That was it? Go straight home? We were free for the rest of the day? Whoopee! We would go home alright, straight to Dick's house. His mom was working and wouldn't be there for hours. We could play Indian Ball to our hearts' content! With a broom stick and a whiffle ball we played all afternoon. We had a blast! But it wasn’t long before Dick’s mom came home and I was sent home. Our parents weren’t happy, not one bit. We both learned how to spell “GROUNDED” and our behavior? Well, in baseball terms it went from a strike out to a grand slam.

LOUISVILLE SLUGGER

Genuine Louisville Slugger Baseball Bat.

        Any boy growing up around baseball knew what a Louisville Slugger was. A hardwood bat made for slugging home runs. I was considered somewhat of a baseball expert among my 10 year old peers seeing how my Dad was our Little League coach. So, one day at recess I was teaching a small group of future power hitters how to swing with ultimate gusto when “KAPOW”

I was blindsided by a muscle bound fifth grader practicing his swing. I think the Louisville Slugger insignia is still tattooed on the back of my skull. I stumbled back to the classroom with a giant goose egg and a splitting headache. And what did Mr. Walker have to say you ask? Not a heck of a lot! I think I detected a sly grin as he peeked out from behind his reading book.

THE BIG FIGHT

    There was the fight I had with George Taylor, the recognized fifth grade “tough guy!" His team had made a mistake. They had kicked their ball too close to me as I wandered across the playground. I picked it up and was giving it a quick inspection -- you know, room number, teacher’s name. When I heard, “Hey, kid, give us that ball!” – Well, if they had asked politely. But since they’d shown me no respect, I booted it away from them as far as I could. “Get him George,” his team screamed. George hit me like a pit bull on steroids. 

 

      We fought wildly until teachers stepped in and broke us up. George's nickname, The Terrible Termite, was well deserved. He was only 10 years old, but strong enough to have fought midgets in the WWF. The year rolled along, and by basketball season we were best friends. 

WASATCH  WILD CATS

5th Grade Wildcats Basketball Team. 1956.
[Front Row] Francis Rogers, Mickey Muhstein, Bruce Coles, David Beck, George Taylor:
[Back Row] Steve Summers, Jerry Sutherland, Van Simmons, Coach Max Rogers, Dick Thomas, Les Brown

    By far the best part of 5th Grade was our Wasatch Wildcats basketball team that was coached by my Dad. With the help of George Taylor, Les Brown, Dick Thomas, Bruce Coles, and Dave Beck  we had destroyed the competition and were set to play the Joaquin Giants for the city championship. They weren't called the Giants for nothing. They must have all slid down the "Beanstalk" to go to elementary school!

    At the end of regulation time our teams were tied. It had been a hard fought battle! Now we were face to face at center court, ready for a sudden death fight to the finish. The first team to score would be the champs. Looking up at their five starters left little doubt who would win the tip. Sure enough, they grabbed the tipped ball and were on their way down the court for the winning basket. Their shot went up, bounced from rim to rim and finally rolled off, only to be snagged by another Giant who launched it back up. This time the ball rolled around the edge of the hoop and tumbled off, again into the arms of a tall Giant.

    But Dick Thomas was determined that this ball was not going up again. He snatched the ball away from the would-be-shooter and tossed it out to Bruce Coles who was well on his way to our end of the court. Now we could take our time, get the best shot, and win the game. So we thought! Bruce had other ideas. With visions of heroic glory he streaked down the sidelines followed close behind by an angry herd of charging Giants. We all knew what was coming. His sky hook from the far corner. He rarely made it. In unison we all screamed, "Nooooo!"

     But there was no stopping him. The ball was launched. It floated high above the basket, began its downward arc, and then swished through the hoop touching nothing but net! WE HAD WON! We had won! We had beaten the unbeatable Giants! The Wasatch Wildcats were the city champions, and Bruce Coles' winning shot would be remembered by every Wildcat forever!

March 27, 1956. The Provo Daily Herald.