Road Apples
Oct. 10, 2005

I'm not Bob England -- I checked my yearbook

By Tim Sanders

We were enjoying Centre’s Fall Festival. Actually, Marilyn was enjoying the Fall Festival. She was in a store on Main Street, looking at clothing, and I was hanging around outside with a bag of boiled peanuts, sulking. Earlier I’d asked the lady operating one of those inflatable kiddies’ moonwalk houses if I could give it a try, and she’d told me I exceeded the weight limit. There’d been six kids in it at the time, and I was relatively sure that their combined weight was more than mine. When I tried to argue the point, and promised the lady I could cut my weight in half by hopping on one foot, Marilyn kicked me in the shin and dragged me down the street. True to my word, I was hopping on one foot.

As I waited outside the store, an elderly gentleman approached me, with a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

"I know you," he said. "I’ve seen your picture in that paper. That column of yours is right on target."

I immediately forgot all about the inflatable moonwalk incident. It was gratifying to be appreciated for your work. Here was a guy who knew good writing when he read it.

"Thank you," I said, and added, modestly, "Sometimes I miss the mark, but I try."

He shook his head. "Oh no, you got them rascals down in Montgomery pegged. They can’t get nothing past you. I told my wife just before she died, ‘Virginia, that Bob England feller, he don’t miss a trick!’ "

"Ah, you mean Bob Ingram, " I said. I was a bit disappointed.

"That’s what I said," he replied. "I knew it was you because–"

"But I’m not Bob Ingram," I said, wishing at that juncture that I was.

"You’re not ... oh, you use one of those pin names. Like when Huckleberry Flint wrote that book and signed it Marked Train. Either way, that one you wrote about eating a wad of newspapers if Bob Siegelford didn’t run for governor again was –"

"Look," I said, "Bob Ingram writes a political column, and I–"

"There ain’t many reporters would eat 115,000 actual newspapers," he said. "My little brother once ate nineteen Baby Ruths still in the wrappers because his blood was low, and it bound him up for nearly a week. You shoulda seen it when he finally–"

"I’m sorry sir," I said. "I’m not Bob Ingram. I don’t write a political column. My name is–"

He looked around furtively. "I get it,I get it," he whispered, "you want to remain unanimous. You ain’t got to worry. I won’t tell anybody, not even Virginia."

I thought Virginia had passed on, but I didn’t question him. "My name is Tim Sanders, and I write a humor column. Bob Ingram is an entirely different fellow. Have you ever read ‘Road Apples?’ "

"I’ve seen road apples, but I never read none! What kind of foolishness is that?"

"It’s a humor column. It’s supposed to make you laugh."

"Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob, but I do know you ain’t as interesting in person as you are when you write. And you certainly ain’t funny!"
"I ain’t–aren’t–AM NOT BOB!"

He scratched his chin for a moment, and then apparently decided to humor me. "So if you don’t write about politics, what kind of stuff do you write, Mister Not Bob England?"

"Well, next week, for example, I’m considering a column on coach Oscar M. "Ossie" Solem, who led the Syracuse University football team to a 5-2-1 season in 1941 using the innovative reverse center offense. It is a sports story which is also humorous."

"HEY, NOW YOU’RE TALKING! I was in high school in Chattanooga in 1941. It was the fall before Pearl harbor, and our coach Puckett, he used that very same offense! We had a center name of Bill Simmons who would hike the ball to old Charlie Hood. You never seen the like–he had his back to the defensive line, so as to flip the ball forward to the quarterback. Old Bill he had to be very careful not to leave his butt hanging back over the ball and put hisself offsides, but he had long arms, so it worked out just fine. It certainly confused the defense. You ought to write about that, Bob, or Jim, or whatever you call yourself. I can give you firsthand information."

"How did Chattanooga High do that year?"

"Which year?"

"1941."

"Oh. Funny you should ask. In 1941 we never won a game. We almost beat the Bradley Bears, which was a very strong team, but their coach he caught on to our reverse center offense and put five defensive men on the line of scrimmage and that was that. Before old Simmons could get hisself turned around to block, they run up over him. He had a very rough time, and by halftime was awful shaky. Later on the Supreme Court made the reverse center formation illegal. Yessir, them was the days, let me tell you. Now if you’re a sports writer, that would make a good column."

"Well, I suppose I might–"

"And while you’re at it, you could mention Shirley Anderson. She was May Day Queen in 1942, and voted most appropriate dresser. She didn’t never have a hair out of place, and believe me, if you’d ever seen her in her gym shorts, you’d of ... well, let’s just say she looked a whole lot like Rita Hayworth, only better. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention her to Virginia–she’s awful jealous. I think that’s why she never comes to see me anymore."

"You and Shirley dated?"

"Nossir, she liked the athletes. I did try out for the fencing club, but I got a foil run up my nostril and had to give it up because my sinuses was already bad. But I ain’t forgot her, and if you write about her, don’t you mention my name. Virginia would have a cow."

I assured him that since I didn’t even know his name, his secret was safe with me.

"It’s just as well, Mr. England. I never did see Shirley after high school. I joined the Navy in January, and by June I was a Seaman First Class aboard the carrier Enterprise off Midway Island. Ain’t no telling where Shirley is. Besides, she’s in her eighties now, and probably don’t look all that good in gym shorts anyway." He said he lived in a nursing home. When I asked him which one, he said he thought it was Crossville, but he wasn’t sure.

He asked me what I was writing about next week; obviously he’d already forgotten most of our earlier conversation. Since he seemed more comfortable with Bob England, I told him I was working on something about a well-known Montgomery lobbyist, two pairs of pantyhose, and an alpaca goat. He said he approved.

A middle-aged lady approached and said "C’mon Daddy, it’s time to go." Before he left, he insisted on scribbling my name and address on a napkin.

A week later I got a package in the mail bearing a La Fayette, Georgia postmark.  "Attn: Bob England" was scrawled across the front. It contained a 1942 Chattanooga High School yearbook, The Dynamo, with the name "Virginia" written on the flyleaf. The book was dedicated "To the men of Chattanooga High School in the armed forces of The United Nations." I remembered my conversation with the old gentleman.

Sure enough, the football team hadn’t won a single game in 1941, And yes, Coach James M. Puckett did use the "reverse center" offensive formation.

And as to Shirley Anderson, she was indeed May Day Queen, and a very beautiful girl. Whatever his name, the old gentleman had excellent taste.