EVERY SELF-RESPECTED CHOLO HAD TO BE CURRENT ON THE FINE INTELLECTUAL READINGS OF LOWRIDER MAGAZINE – OK, MAYBE NOT SO MUCH THE READING, BUT MAYBE, ACUTELY VERSED ON THE ANATOMY OF THE FINE FEMALE CREATURES ACTING AS HOOD ORNAMENTS.
The moment the Senators had been waiting for had arrived and it came at the end of practice – they found out when they would be getting uniforms.
“Senators, I have two announcements to make – one, Gilbert here will be our new assistant coach and two, I have some news about your uniforms.”
“The Milpitas Rotary Club has agreed to sponsor us and we will all be meeting after practice on Tuesday next week for pizza at Mountain Mike’s and uniforms.”
“Make sure to write your sizes down on my list and the number you want – there is no guarantee you will get either, so let’s just hope for the best ok!”
Coach Deanda was kidding right? “No guarantees on either,” what in the heck did that mean – “no guarantees on either!”
The Kid took his turn with the clipboard and at first wrote down “size large” and then nervously scratched that out and wrote “x-large” with the number choice of 44 – ala Reggie Jackson.
The Kid needed a ride home and he threw off the rest of the catching gear as fast as he could so he could beg a ride from Steve the Giant and his brother Gilbert.
“Steve, do you think your brother would give me a ride home since I have a little bit of a problem with my bike over there?” The Kid begged.
“HAHAHA, C’mon, I’m not sure I can even get a ride home with Gilbert. Grab that end of your bike and I’ll carry the other end and we’ll just put my bike and your piece of **** in there before he notices.”
Gilbert was packing up his aluminum bats and was talking with Coach Deanda as The Giant and The Kid made quick work of shoving the two bikes into the back of the old camper.
There was just enough room in the back for the two bikes and two covert stowaways who happened to stumble upon Gilbert’s latest edition of Lowrider Magazine.
The Giant did the honors of flipping through the pages as the two boys gawked at the huge, ummm…tires, when suddenly they heard the driver side door to the camper creak open.
“Shut Up! The Giant motioned with his mouth and finger as Gilbert climbed into the camper’s driver seat and ripped out of the parking lot in his normal B-A-D A-S-S M.O. (Modus Orangutan).
The camper drove down the road for about half a mile before The Giant and The Kid couldn’t help but burst out in laughter at a cartoon in the magazine illustrating a fat Cholo character farting in a swimming pool and claiming the bubbles were from a non-existent Jacuzzi.
DID YOU SEE THAT ANGRY CHOLO DRIVING A CAMPER ON THE ROAD THE OTHER DAY!!!
The Giant’s brother Gilbert rolled into the school parking lot in a beat up camper truck just as Coach Deanda was explaining to the Senators that a “Squeeze Play” was NOT a move executed on one’s girlfriend while she wasn’t looking.
The door to the beat up camper slammed shut and everyone instantly “made eyeballs” on a fast moving and pissed-off-looking Cholo in a “beanie cap” carrying a couple of aluminum bats over his shoulder.
Gilbert was a B-A-D- A-S-S in every definition of the word.
Rumor had it that he had learned how to drive his dad’s camper at age nine and that by the age of twelve, he had won over thirty some odd after school fights – all of them ending in a bloody mess.
Gilbert was also a track and baseball star athlete with the local high school – he was lightning fast and could hit just about anything.
Maybe that’s why Steve the Giant trembled.
Gilbert walked straight up to The Giant, who was instantly dwarfed by his six-foot-three older brother.
“Dad and me had another fight and I took off with the camper. Instead of kicking you’re a-s-s to make me feel better, I decided to take it out on your sorry a-s-s little league team.”
The Senators also had never seen Steve the Giant ever smile – yet The Kid detected a small crease on The Giant’s upper lip that pointed to centerfield.
The Giant walked up to Coach Deanda and told him that Gilbert knew some practice drills the team could practice and before you knew it, The Senators started to resemble a real team.
The Kid would soon learn what the connection between Steve the Giant, his Cholo older brother and The Kid’s baseball glove with his mother’s name etched into it with a soldering iron was.
THERE’S A REASON WHY THERE WERE NEVER ANY CHUBBY, OK, FAT CATCHERS IN THE BIGS – THEY NEVER GOT ANY BIGGER THAN JOHNNY BENCH!!!
Coach Deanda finally got the Senators to participate in their first semi-solid scrimmage game.
The Kid got recruited to play catcher because his belayed arrival meant that he got chosen to play the most undesirable position of them all.
“Umm Coach, I don’t know if you have noticed or not, but I’m kinda big and I’m not sure I can squat longer than one pitch, so maybe Mike over there is more flexible and all.”
Mike was already comfortable at first base and he shot the Kid a “I’m gonna bean you in the head with the baseball the first chance I get” kinda look.
“Chale (Coach loved to use Mexican-American slang – Chale meant “**** No!”), I want you to be a big target for Rudy so just try your best ok!”
The Kid’s cup had been destroyed by his mishap with his crash landing and he tried another avenue with the coach to escape “catching duties.”
“Coach, I can’t play today because as you can see, I crashed my bicycle over there and when I crash landed, my cup got messed up, so I can’t play today already.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Coach Deanda reached into his equipment “bag of tricks” and produced the elusive “mythical cup” – and let’s just say that it wasn’t something a bunch of gringo Knights of the Roundtable would traverse the earth to find for King Arthur.
The cup did exist, and it looked like it had been used and abused – the Kid thought that “the cup” might have been passed down through the Deanda generations because the contraption was a mere bunch of plastic shards held vaguely together by a bunch of elastic threads.
“CHALE!!!.” The Kid repeated to the coach after looking at the coach’s “iron maiden.”
“I’m gonna take my chances with my own cup!”
The group of Senators anxiously waiting for the Kid to suit up in the catchers gear laughed and dubbed the Kid with the moniker “NO CUP.”
The Kid reluctantly suited up with the catcher’s gear and squatted down behind home plate with a big chocolate covered back end, compliments of his crash landing and his smashed package of Rolo’s candies.
———————————————————————————————————————–EVERYONE LOVES KUNG-FU FIGHTING BUT WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE PLAYING BASEBALL HERE!
The Kid laid there behind the backstop for a good solid five minutes with his eyes rolled back as his belly performed what only can be best described as a sort of involuntary muscular hydraulics.
Oblivious to what had been happening on the practice field when he had arrived, The Kid gathered up enough strength to raise his head off of his heaving chest just enough to catch glimpse of what looked like a bad Bruce Lee movie being unwillingly directed by Coach Deanda.
Larry the ADD kid was swinging around his sweaty Zip tennis shoes he had tied together like a pair of numchucks as four other Shaolin Senators high-kicked through the air and cried out a multitude of “Hii-Yaaaw’s.”
Coach Deanda was in the center of the debacle trying to get Larry the ADD kid to put his shoes back on and corral the other kung-fu warriors back into their positions on the practice field.
It usually took a couple of years for a good movie to be shown at the town’s Serra Twin Theatres and it was even a more rare occasion for two good action movies to be played back to back.
“Kung-Fu Mania” had hit the town with force and for a mere dollar fifty, you could watch Bruce Lee in “Enter The Dragon” and then hit the lobby for a second tub of popcorn and a pop and be back in time for Chuck Norris in “The Good Guys Wear Black.”
What The Kid had witnessed from beneath the wreckage of his treasured bike was a combination of both movies being acted out on the field simultaneously.
Larry the ADD kid was re-enacting a scene from “Enter The Dragon” while the others were high-kicking through an imaginary car windshield from a scene in “The Good Guys Wear Black.”
Coach Deanda on the other hand was making his own independent film that was a lot like the movie “Blazing Saddles,” complete with cowboy boots and curse words, only everything was dubbed in Spanish.
“MADRE DE DIOS!!!” cried Coach Deanda as he hit the turf from a massive “slip and slide” maneuver that was a result of pairing Mexico’s finest cowboy boots and America’s over-watered school practice field.
———————————————————————————————————————–CESAR’S PALACE – DOES THAT RING A BELL? IT CERTAINLY WASN’T THE SNAKE RIVER – PARACHUTES ON ROCKETS ARE FOR SISSIES!
The most famous “ham sandwich” eater of all time, Evel Knievel, had already thoroughly chronicled the travails of the insanely stupid stunt tricks for the posterity of millions of television viewers with the indelible image of “The Rag Doll Landing.”
EVEL KNIEVEL LOOKED LIKE A RAGEDY ANDY DOLL IN HIS LANDING – THIS LANDING WAS MORE LIKE RONALD MCDONALD’S BUDDY GRIMACE TAKING CHA-CHA LESSONS UPSIDE DOWN!
If you want to know how much the landing hurt – just grab a sheet of paper and pencil and do the following mathematical calculation:
Multiply the force of Evel’s landing by a factor of ten to the tenth power.
Next, substitute one crazy red white and blue helmet and leather suit wearing Elvis impersonator for a fat kid with a “bent cup.”
Now add one hand me down baseball glove hanging from a set of mangled handlebars of Sear’s best imitation motocross bicycle.
Then, subtract one Rollie Fingers baseball card that broke away with the “rear fuselage.”
And finally, add the resultant figure to a thorny patch of “sticker plants” and a roll of a perfectly squashed package of “Rolos” in The Kid’s back pocket that ended up resembling Willy Wonka’s “Chocolate River.”
Umpa, Lumpa, Doopity Do…The Kid Solved A Riddle And Ended Up Covered In Poo!
OK, it was chewy carmel covered in chocolate, but The Kid had a hard time explaining “the skid” to his teammates and to Coach Deanda when he showed up late to practice, painfully dragging two sections of his bike before collapsing in the grass behind the backstop.
———————————————————————————————————————–THERE IS CERTAINLY ONE ADVANTAGE OF BEING CHUBBY – OK, FAT, AND IT IS ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT IMMUTABLE LAWS OF PHYSICS – FAT KIDS CAN FLY!
The Kid made the harrowing descent of the Jacklin Road overpass with his curly locks flapping in the jet stream like the Flying Nun’s habit, oblivious to the patch of broken glass situated at the bottom of the narrow path.
By the time The Kid noticed the speckled mass of glass shards glinting in the distance, the unstoppable choo-choo express had but one choice to make – and that was to attempt a “bunny-hop” over the impending “death trap.”
They say that when faced with a life and death situation, the human body is capable of exhibiting super-human strength.
It had to be super-human strength that lifted The Kid’s bike and his massive frame over the glass – there could be no other explanation!
Gym class had always been the sad testament to The Kid’s physical shortcomings and everyone knew that he had yet to produce a single “acceptable” pushup for the former Merchant Marine of a P.E. teacher named Mr. Mills.
As The Kid performed the most perfect death-defying bunny hop at 20 miles an hour, he could hear Mr. Mills in his head saying, “Fat kids don’t belong in the air and I’ll tell you why. It’s because Mother Nature and Gravity make a ham sandwich that a fat kid won’t want to eat!”
Yet there he was – flying in the air with the greatest of ease – the amazing young man and his flying machine…
HAM SANDWHICH? – WAS THIS SOME KIND OF MUMBO JUMBO CODE FROM THE DERANGED MIND OF AN OLD P.E. TEACHER – I GOT YOUR HAM SANDWHICH MR. MILLS – I’M FLYING!
With certain doom avoided and hanging for what seemed like an eternity in the air, The Kid suddenly deciphered the “Mills Riddle” mid-flight as he realized that it was going to be landing at 20 miles an hour that was going to make him – EAT IT!
———————————————————————————————————————–FARRAH FAWCETT WAS A BABE AND THERE WAS NO DENYING IT – BUT WAS SHE WORTH A SHOPPING BAG FULL OF TWICE READ COMICS IN EXCHANGE FOR HER BIKINI CLAD POSTER?
As fate would have it, The Kid ran into the fast-talking, bucket-hat-wearing and probably future scam artist “Moyer” at the top of the Jacklin Road overpass.
The Kid stood hunched over his bike recovering from the effects of “altitude hypoxia” and picked at a few stray strands of “ice plant” stuck in his bike spokes.
“I saw that you were wearing the Farrah t-shirt the other day and I noticed that it’s starting to peel away at the bottom,” Moyer said as he raised his right eyebrow.
“BUCKET HEAD” WAS RIGHT; THE FARRAH T-SHIRT HAD BEEN THROUGH THE DRYER ABOUT MILLION TIMES AND SHE WAS ALMOST ON HER LAST LEG – LITERALLY!
“yahh-umh, umnhh,” The Kid responded under labored breath.
“That’s too bad, you know that t-shirt is hard to find in the stores. JCPenney’s had them for two days before they sold out.”
“The Farrah poster is also hard to find, but luckily, I bought the last one the other day and it’s still in its plastic covering. I’m more of a Cheryl Tiegs fan myself but heck I’d be willing to swap the poster for say – some of those old comic books you brought in to arts and crafts class the other time.”
This was no “mercy trade” as was the case with the “Johnny Bench” baseball card trade; no, this was a “major league deal.”
It’s funny what hormones will do to a kid but in a transaction that pre-dated the invention of “Junk Bonds”, The Kid agreed to swap his classic issues of Silver Surfer, Spiderman and The Fantastic Four for the Farrah poster.
It wouldn’t be until several days after the trade was transacted before The Kid realized that he had been HAD.
The Farrah poster was not only NOT sold out, it was in every f-r-i-g-g-i-n-g store – from the mall to the drugstore!