LEWIS THE ATHLETE

Do you hate stories that begin with a digression: NAAAH, me neither.

Lewis' brother, Buddy Butler was a real athlete. In fact Bud played as a high schooler when he was in the eighth grade. I remember seeing him and Tommy Jellicourse, Ara Phelps, Jim Eatherly and several others play sports in the ‘40's at good old Smith County High. Even after this group had graduated, they played on a regular basis in a pick-up game.

There was a traveling, professional female basketball team who advertised that they would whip anybody's "pick-up" team, in any town. The Arkansas Readheads came to Carthage.

The Carthage amateurs had played together all through high school and thereafter because the school gym was left open to anyone who wanted to use it. These guys could shoot and guard, they knew each other's moves. They had speed and strength sufficient to block out the Redheads. About two-thirds through the game the ladies stopped the game and complained about how things were progressing: they were behind. No one said anything in rebuttal. The game continued but the ladies were frustrated in their performance and humiliated by being defeated in this little "hick-town"! The Arkansas Redheads never returned to Carthage.

I did not follow in my brother's footsteps. I went out for basketball in the fifth grade and "played" through the eighth grade. I was on the team because anyone who "came out" was given a spot on the team.

There were eight or ten kids on the team and during these years, competition for playing time was not an issue! My classmates were earlier developers than I; in fact they had strengths and agility -- “moves” –I would never have. Mac Pelham and I were the "subs." Since we were excluded from the practice scrimmages, we occupied our time by playing marbles, making jokes and paper airplanes. When Mac and I were put into the game you could be sure the game was on ice.

We were so far ahead of Brush Creek on one occasion that the coach's instructions to the team were to let Lewis and Mac do all the shooting. The opponents were of diminutive stature and we were cruising. It was my first chance of the season to play. I took the in-bound pass and dribbled down the court on the right side. I crossed the center line and let the ball fly. It was a one-hand push shot that was actually heading toward the basket! Sometimes you know its going in, you just know it! I knew it was going in this time.

The brown rubber orb was launched in a near perfect arch with a moderate backspin. What a beautiful sight it was speeding toward the back-board seemingly in slow motion. The gym grew totally silent and the crowd became motionless in anticipation of the string music in the Carthage Elementary School Gym. A quiver of anticipation went through the crowd. Every 'pucker string' was cinched-up tight. There was one lady who, in wild anticipation, momentarily lost control of her bladder..................... (One may ask how I could have been aware of all these things during the brief time of this basketball shot:............... just hold your head down until the felling passes!)

This in not a "Casey at the Bat" story: The ball banged into the backboard and went through the hoop. I knew it would, and I was "back-peddling" to get back on defense. The bench went wild with laughter; I wondered why, and the coach was red-faced and was shouting something unintelligible!

The few years of my basketball career yielded either 6 or 8 points..................... That's all ............................Eight points,.................................... it was eight, ...........................................OK?