King of Curve Balls

My father, Thomas Tillman, was never really a "sports guy." He didn't watch football or basketball or scour the sports pages of the Pine Bluff Commercial. In fact, Dad could barely participate in the routine sports blather that was exchanged among the wrinkled old men at the Wildcat Dairy Dip. Dad was more of a 'highlights guy' when it came to sports. He overheard sports trivia and regurgitated just enough of it to sound like he followed sports, but never did. So, he didn't know much about baseball either. But he did know how to throw a curve ball.

Dad was left-handed, which meant his handwriting was horrible, but his curve ball was a thing of beauty - especially to a 12-year-old version of me. Left-handers throw a 'natural' curve they say, meaning that it comes naturally, like the physical advantages that tall, lanky guys have when dunking a basketball or when short guys like me...pick blackberries and find arrowheads. It’s easier for left-handers to throw curve balls; I was short and right-handed with stubby little fingers. Curve-balls were always a mystery.

On a few occasions, I goaded Dad into pitching a few balls with me and my brother Ronnie. Admittedly, those moments were tragically infrequent. For whatever reason, we didn't follow the "leave-it-to-Beaver" norm. And that's not a whiny complaint as much as it is a sad realization. If he were alive today, I'm sure Dad would wish he'd done things differently - especially if he realized how important those moments were to his boys. I guess that's the reason I'm reflecting a bit these 50-odd years later. Those times mattered, but back then all I thought about was learning to throw a curve ball and it mattered much more than just playing 'catch.' That was my hidden agenda. The physics of a thrown ball that curved was magical to me at a time when my world needed more magic.

So, I thought that if I could just throw a curve ball, even a mediocre one, I'd be cool. And, with an added layer of coolness, I could be king of something.  King of Curve Balls?  Maybe. In 1970's Rison, to be king of anything was a bonus. Stan Sadler was King of Ping Pong. Mark Cathey was King of Cool Hair. William Miller was King of the Grid Iron. Steve Pate and Ira Moore were Kings of Cool Cars. King of Curve Balls would have suited me just fine.