The 5th graders loved to play “Greek dodgeball”, a variant of more familiar forms. It is played on two overlapping rectangles that allow most of each team to stand between two groups of opponents. When the ball is in the hands of the A players, most of the B team is trapped between the A ‘enders’ and the rest of the A team. An A player tries to hit a B with the ball. If he does, the B player must leave the center area and join the B ‘enders’. But if the B player manages to catch the ball, it is now suddenly in the hands of the B team and they try to hit an A player without that target making a clean catch.
The game can be very rigorous and exciting. When possession of the ball changes hands, a good strategy is to strike an opponent in the feet. The opponent is back-pedaling frantically and is not in a position to make a clean catch of a ball that strikes him in the feet. We played on a nicely made court but it was close to a fence that separated the school playground from a neighboring farm. Whenever rigorous play resulted in the ball being hit or kicked over the fence onto the farm, the gym teacher would walk to his car and drive to the farmhouse and retrieve the ball.
I sneered at such laziness. A gym teacher who drives short distances! Laughable! Pitiful! One day, the gym teacher was sick and stayed home. The ball managed to get over the fence. The kids came to me and asked me if I would get it back for them. No problem. I walked to the end of the fence, turned around it and started walking toward the ball, which I could see. As I got closer, an old woman, working near a barn, saw me and yelled something but I couldn’t make out her words. At the same time, a black mastiff that looked about 130 lbs came around the end of the barn. He was walking steady toward me and didn’t look at all friendly. I suddenly realized why the gym teacher drove over in his car and what the woman had been yelling.
I could see that I could not reach the end of the fence before the dog. I jumped on top of a big wood pile. The dog arrived snarling and growling. The wood pile was high but irregular and I thought the mastiff might be able to scramble up it to me and my skin. I picked up a short log and held it overhead to smack him if he tried. By that time, the woman arrived and called the dog off. I apologized and she seemed relieved that I was not hurt. I didn’t have to retrieve any more balls but if I had, I would have driven over there first.
