Sports thoughts

He was maybe 5-foot-5 with his cowboy boots on. He weighed about 115 pounds, and 12 of those pounds had to be from the enormous rodeo belt buckle he wore. He didn’t win the buckle, just wore if for identification, like a strong beacon from a lighthouse. The designers at Levi Strauss could never make a pair of blue jeans that fit properly. The cowboy shirt hung like on a hanger that had been tried on often. The cowboy hat of course was too big, and when lifted exposed light blue eyes and either slight growth between nose and upper lip or something leftover from lunch.

This was Timmie Phillips, high school senior, and manager extraordinaire. What the description left out was a heart of gold. No job was too big or too dirty, no towel washing that took too long. Always a smile and a kind word, which sometimes had to be repeated because he spoke with a lisp. The only time Tim was out of cowboy mode was Friday night. John Deere baseball cap, gray T-shirt, a towel slung over his shoulder. The thin arms often strained as he carried water for timeouts, always on cue.

Timmie never went out for football; the reasons were obvious. To see him in shorts on a basketball court required sunglasses because white glare caused one to look away. Besides, he was a face dribbler — two bounces and he got it in the nose. That didn’t stop Tim from cheering the loudest in the small gym. But baseball was a different story; he wanted on that team in the worst way.