Much like last time when she asked her mother directly for an answer for her Mother’s Day Potpourri post, Andrea is the only one brave enough to email her father for a story to share on Father’s Day. So here’s to Andrea’s papa, and the two kids, (her brother Adam is in the picture), who love him!
I talked with my dad on the phone in preparation for this post and for. We got to talking about when he was involved in sports back before he was just a supportive spectator for my brother and me at countless basketball tournaments, softball and baseball games, dance team competitions, golf meets, soccer games and volleyball matches. While we were talking, there was one moment that came up because I’d heard the story before and it always made me laugh. Now, you’d probably have to know my dad to fully appreciate the humor, but here it is.
My dad grew up inand went to Allison-Bristow High school. (Iowa schools are notorious for combining two or more towns into what we like to call “alphabet” high schools. Allison-Bristow, Waverly-Shell Rock, Rudd-Rockford-Marble Rock. The best is BCLUW and I cannot for the life of me tell you which towns those five letters stand for). Needless to say, even with Allison and Bristow combined, the high school was still small. ABHS had about 40 people per graduating class. Therefore, everybody even remotely athletic played every sport. My dad was a good football and baseball player, but basketball wasn’t really his thing. He said, “I was about 9th man on the team.”
So one year the team had an away game against one of their rivals, Clarksville. For away games, the team had to wear their street clothes on the buses and change into their uniforms in the locker room. Well, the AB guys got to the away site and the best player on the team, Stan Wubena, realized he had forgotten his basketball shoes. All he had were his dress shoes. The coach walked around for awhile, trying to figure out what to do and pretty soon he asked, “Who’s got size 11 shoes?” And nobody said anything. So he asked again, and started walking around looking at the guys’ shoes. He finally saw that my dad wears size 11 and he barked, “REIHER! Give ‘im your shoes!” and my dad asked, “Well, what am I gonna do?” and the Coach said, “Go out there in your stocking feet, you don’t play much anyway.” So, my dad gave Stan his shoes, and rode the pine in his socks that night.
PS: When I called my dad to get the full story, I asked him if he remembered the “best player,” what his name was. And my dad (memory like an elephant) goes, “Oh yeah, that was Stan Wubena. I saw his dad the other day.” Oh, .
Happy Father’s Day, dad!