" ... WELL THEY'LL PASS YOU BY .."

 Richard's latest post was about gumboots and, as he mentioned the Taihape gumboot statue rather disparagingly, I commented in Taihape's favour and recalled  a gumboot throwing competition I won many years ago.

Here's the thread of comments:

It's interesting that Anonymous made a call for stopping me from writing a post on throwing things as I had no intention of doing so but - I like a challenge so:

"No. I don't recall ever having thrown a gumboot before that time.
Wobblies, shit, baseballs. rocks, stones, softballs, (never sickies), cricket balls, tennis balls, basketballs, rugby ball, soccer balls, hammers, axes, paper darts, gliders etc were a given but never gumboots."

I forgot to include 'up' in that little list and there are obviously other things I could have included. In deference to Anonymous and any other miserable bastards reading this I'll limit my recollections to just two examples and select best and worst things.

BEST THINGS

I realised when I was quite young that I have a 'good throwing arm'. I'm not big or tall and while having (in past days) a slim and lighter frame, I had my father's strength and balance which made ball sports easy for me so whenever playing baseball (with the Mormons), softball and cricket (casually rather than school sports) I did well. Even with football, a 'good throwing arm' came in handy as a goalie in soccer and a centre in rugby. I could go on ... really, I could but as stated I'll limit myself to one example.

At a training seminar of senior executives - a two week live-in course at Waikato University in 1987 - we worked hard and long hours honing our marketing and management skills. It was a great team of about twenty people from around the country many of whom I have noticed progressing in politics, government, and leading corporate enterprises. It assisted in my career as well.

At the end of the course a cricket game was organised between the 'team' and educators and the university staff. This was a limited over game kind of like the One Days they do now but I think we limited to 30 overs each. As I hadn't formally played cricket at school I deferred to the 'team' members and staff who had - the usual suspects like Auckland Grammar, Kings, St Bede's, etc. - played in first and second elevens. The women of course (this was 1987) weren't considered for selection. They  provided the club sandwiches and dispensed the drinks).  As a result I was number nine in the batting order but after a couple of demonstrations showed that I could bowl pretty well. To cut a potentially 'Glory Days' long story short ....

.... sorry but I can't resist:

... I took three wickets with my bowling.

The 'team' was chasing the university opponents first innings of a pretty reasonable score and, after starting well, collapsed in the middle leaving me at number nine and another 'no-hoper' (according to the selection squad) at number 10 to try to save the game. I think that the 'team' members had given up at this stage (forgetting my four wicket haul in the first innings and got stuck into the drinks. 

I said to me partner - a great guy who has done well in business and hopefully life - "let's just go for it".

We did and bashed sixes and fours galore to quite quickly overtake the opposition score and win the match. I scored more than my partner and, because of my bowling success as well was deemed the hero of the match. The 'team' members and staff hoisted me on to their shoulders and triumphantly paraded me off the pitch and back to the clubrooms where many glasses of beer and wine were imbibed.

Now Bruce Springsteen (a great musician) might disparage other people's minor glories given that he performs in front of thousands of adoring fans, but for the average Joe, a bit of glory goes down well. I have to admit that, while being embarrassing  being hoisted away I still felt chuffed.

WORST THINGS

I have written about this before, see: THE CREEK

My older brothers and friends in our Liardet street gang* used to call on me when  distance and accurate stone-throwing was required. It was kind of like when siege machines were called on for castle attacks.

I was the man I must admit but there was a dark, well, maybe a darker side to my stone-throwing prowess.

At St Anne's primary school, when I was about seven, I remember finding an ideal throwing stone in the playground. It was smooth and egg shaped although a bit smaller than an egg. Some kid must have found it at one of Wellington's stony beaches and kept it in his pocket before losing it. I tossed it up and caught it a few times before throwing it as high as I could. It sailed up and came down at the far end of another playground where a bunch of kids were playing some games. I thought nothing more of this but then noticed a bit of a commotion and then the nuns hustled us back to class. Soon after an ambulance arrived. I could see it through the classroom window but couldn't make out what it was doing.

Now, to this day I don't know if my stone hit anyone and caused damage. I don't know if any kid was taken to hospital. I don't know if any kid returned from hospital. I don't know if any kid was spirited away to Robert's heaven. Honest. I was however more careful with my stone-throwing after this.

* Much tougher than The Garden Road Gang.