Against All Odds

By Larry Black

Against All Odds is fictional novel with a heartwarming story about Little Pete, the youngest of five children in the Scroggins family. The setting is rural northeast Texas during the late 1950s. Little Pete found a passion for basketball and was anxious to play for the new high school coach of the Little Hope Eagles, but the odds started to build against him as he lost the use of his right hand in an accident. However, with the Scroggins a strong-willed determination and drive, Little Pete developed left-handed skills to overcome the odds. As he neared the end of high school career, Little Pete was heavily recruited by a host of colleges to come and be a part of their basketball program. While the future looked bright for Little Pete with a newly defined goal of playing college and later professional basketball, life continued to deal him a heavy blow as he became paralyzed with polio. Little Pete was forced to decide between quitting and giving up on his dream and persevering and overcoming the odds.

This story is full of emotions as you fall in love with Little Pete. You will laugh and cry as the events in his life unfolds. After reading this book, it is hoped that you will view your struggles in life from a better perspective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452086705

Book preview

© 2011 Larry Black. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/16/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8668-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8669-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8670-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010914829

Printed in the United States of America

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Table of Contents

FOREWORD

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

About the Author

FOREWORD

Against All Odds is a continuing story of the Scroggins Family. The setting is in a rural northeast Texas community during the 1950’s. Tom and Doris Scroggins had five children of which the oldest was Ben (read Vengeance Is Mine and Love Is Forever for the Ben Scroggins story) and the youngest was Little Pete. This novel is the story of Little Pete. The story is fictional and any personal references that might be authentic are mere coincidental.

Little Pete found a passion for basketball and was anxious to play for the new coach of the Little Hope Eagles, but the odds started to build against him as he lost the use of his right hand.

However, with the Scroggins determination and drive to overcome those odds, Little Pete developed left-handed skills, and with much struggle and persistence, he made the team. It was this newly developed skill that made him unique. By the end of his junior year in high school, Little Pete had established quite a name and was heavily recruited by a host of college recruiters. It was then that he redefined his dream to play college and professional basketball, only to have those dreams bashed by the uncertainties of life. He found himself up against all odds, and it looked as though his dream of having a professional basketball career was nothing more than a mere fantasy.

There are a number of people to whom I wish to express my appreciation for their help with this book. I want to thank my sister, Elceone (Black) Roberts for her countless hours of editing my manuscript. I value the reviewing and encouraging words by Coach Wayne Pierce, who has inspired countless young men through the years to achieve their best in spite of the obstacles in life. Then there’s my wife Martha, as she continues to be my primary source of encouragement. She is appreciated beyond words.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my sister Elceone Roberts. She has encouraged me from the beginning to pursue writing and spent endless and countless hours reviewing and correcting the rough draft of this, as well as the previous novels. Her encouraging and positive attitude has not only inspired me to do my best, but many others that she touched through a career of public education. Thank you Sissy. Larry

Chapter 1

My Papa, Tom Scroggins, and his family were trying to scratch out a living on his eighty-acre farm located in the northeastern portion of Texas. I was the youngest kid and the only one left at home to help Papa. Ben, the oldest, was married to Mary Ann, and they were living near us on the old Jesse Wright place. Ben joined the army a few years ago during WW II, and soon after his enlistment, he was sent to the Philippines. Within a few months after his deployment, we all received the dreaded message that he was missing in action and presumed dead.

We have a very close family, and the reality that Ben would probably never come home was almost more than we could bear, especially Mama. I was only six years old when we received that message, but I will never forget how Mama mourned over Ben, and it hurt me so much to see her crying all the time. Adjustment was difficult for all of us, but time seemed to ease the hurt. A few years later we had a wonderful surprise when Ben returned home. He had been a prisoner of war, and we were all so thankful to have him home again.

The dynamics of our family changed as the kids grew up. My other brother, Lewis, didn’t join the army but went to work at the icehouse in town. He soon became the day supervisor there and seemed to enjoy what he was doing. He still lived with us, but he didn’t have much time to help with the work around the farm. He had a steady girlfriend, and we figured he would be married soon.

My sisters, Lois and Sara, lived in Dallas. Lois was a nurse at Baylor Hospital while Sara worked in the catalogue department for the Sears and Roebuck Company. Lois was happily married with two little girls, and Sara was planning to be married in the spring.

It was a hot July day in 1951, and I was working with Papa in the fields. Often I wished either Ben or Lewis were here to help me, but wishing don’t make it so. We used to have two mules, Ole Jon and Shorty, but Shorty died about a year ago, and since we couldn’t do much work with just one, Papa started looking at tractors. I was thrilled when he bought one before we started our plowing last fall. I enjoyed plowing, even though it was hot, because I liked to drive the tractor. I kept wishing we had a car to drive, but for now I had to be content with driving the tractor. Papa still preferred the mules, so I did all the tractor work. I think the real reason was because he was afraid to drive it.

Well, on this hot day, it was my job to plant a new pea patch. This was the third patch this year, and I didn’t know why we needed so many, but Papa told me to plant one, and plant one I did. I understood that the first crop came early and had finished producing. The second one was just now starting to make peas, and Mama said we should get our first picking toward the end of the week. So I guess Papa was right in thinking we needed to get the third crop in the ground. When Papa wasn’t looking, I drove the tractor a little faster than I should, but when he was around, I was the perfect driver.

Last week I prepared the field for planting. I hooked the cultivator to the tractor and used it to make some row furrows, which I later filled with barnyard fertilizer mixed with a little cottonseed mill. Papa always liked to spread the fertilizer a few days early so it could settle in. If you plant your seed in new fertilize, it’ll burn it to a crisp and you’ll never see a plant, he would say. After the fertilizer was spread, I was waiting and ready to plant. Well, actually, I would have much preferred to be swimming in the creek on such a hot day, but I knew that would have to wait until later. Work came before play around our house. There was not a lazy bone in Papa’s body, and he didn’t have much use for anyone that he thought was lazy. He taught all of us good work ethics at a very young age. But it still didn’t keep me from wishing I could be doing something else…. like fishing or swimming.

I carefully adjusted the planter to drop the seeds about every four inches into the furrows. The tractor made it so much easier than the ole mule-drawn planters we used before, but it didn’t make it any cooler. While I was planting the peas, Papa, using ole Jon, was running the middle buster between two rows of the second pea patch. He wanted to clean out some of the Johnson grass that was growing there plus kill out any bull nettles that might be growing between the rows. I was glad he was getting them out because those things sure do hurt when you step on them. I knew I would have to be picking the peas soon and didn’t want to get in those old nettles. Mama usually shelled the peas, but we had to pick them for her. Not only did she cook them, but she also canned at least a hundred quarts each year. Now that’s a lot of pea shelling! The girls used to help her, but we boys never did have to help much. I couldn’t shell them very fast, or maybe I didn’t want to, and Mama would have a whole pan full shelled by the time I had done eight or ten peas.

It was a clear day with a slight breeze blowing, but by mid morning my shirt was wringing wet with sweat. Along about eleven thirty, Papa came by and told me it was about time to knock off for dinner, so I shut things down, and we walked together toward the house. I was hoping Mama would have something really good to eat, like chocolate cake. I hoped we wouldn’t have turnip greens! We were not allowed to complain about our food and were taught to be thankful for what we had, and I was thankful, but was more thankful when it wasn’t turnip greens!

As we neared the house, we could smell the sweet aroma coming from the kitchen window. Papa said, Smells like we timed this just about right, don’t ya think? I agreed, and soon we were standing on the back porch washing our face and hands before going into the house for dinner. We used a bucket and rope to draw our water from a well. There was almost always a bucket of cool water on the wash shelf on the porch where we washed up. A dipper made from a gourd was always hanging there, and we could use it to get a nice cool drink.

When we walked into the kitchen, Mama had dinner on the table. Sure smells good, I said to Mama as we gathered around the table.

Thanks, Little Pete, I hope you enjoy it. After all, working men need something that will stick to their ribs. And I was happy until I saw a bowl of turnip greens!

Before Mama came to the table, she walked over to the cabinet and turned a small oscillating fan our direction to help stir the air and remove some of the stove heat from the kitchen. When Mama was seated, Papa offered thanks for the food and the blessings of the day before we started to eat. Not much was said, and we passed the food around the table. Things were a bit different a few years ago when there were seven of us sitting around this table. Then, there was always conversation and laughter, but now that it’s just the three of us, we don’t talk quite as much as we used to. I remember Lois and Sara always saying something funny to make us laugh. I miss them. I miss Ben and Lewis too. Lewis is here occasionally for the evening meal with us, but is almost never here at noon. While I was quietly eating, I could feel the air from the fan and thought about how many things had changed in just a few short years.

A few months ago, Rural Electric Association (REA) came into our community, and we were able to get hooked up to electricity. Papa bought a refrigerator with a little section in it that would freeze ice cubes. We could have ice every day and not have to wait for the ice man to come by and leave us a 25 or 50 pound block of ice. Even though we kept what he brought in the icebox, it gradually melted and wouldn’t last more than a day or two at the most. One of my jobs now was to pour water into the ice trays and put them back into the refrigerator. I always spilled about half of it before I could get it where it needed to be. Mama could do it without spilling a drop. One day I was getting the ice tray out and decided to stick my tongue to the back of the tray to see what would happen. My tongue stuck to the tray! It pulled the skin off my tongue and was sore for days, but I didn’t tell Mama or Papa what I had done as they would have laughed and not given me any sympathy anyway. Guess I won’t do that anymore.

Besides the refrigerator, we also now have an electric radio as well as the fan that helped cool the kitchen. But the nicest part of all is that we have a light bulb hanging from the ceiling of every room. It sure beats having to use a kerosene lamp like we used to do. Who knows what will be next? Maybe someday we will have running water in the house. I remember Ben and Mary Ann talking about their honeymoon trip to Jefferson and the fact that the hotel had HOT and cold running water.

Papa interrupted my thoughts. Little Pete, could you pass the cornbread? I obliged. Papa, Mama and I were enjoying a typical lunch. Mama had cooked mashed potatoes, pinto beans, and turnip greens, and we also had sliced tomatoes and sweet milk from our cows to drink. (I took a very small helping of turnip greens!) Papa always crumbled up his cornbread into his glass of milk for his dessert. Today, while he was crumbling up his bread, I said, Papa, I’ve been thinking.

What about?

Well, Sir, I’ve been thinking about going over to James Fosters’ after we finish in the fields and care for the livestock. What do ya think?

I think ya might be a bit tuckered to go visiting, but if ya feel up to it, I guess it will be all right so long as you’re home before dark.

James lived a couple a miles away, but I could hop on my bicycle and be there in a jiffy. What I really liked about going over to James’ house was that he had a basketball and a hoop nailed to the back of their smokehouse for a goal. I loved to play basketball. I never wanted to miss a day of school, particularly on a nice day, because I wanted to play basketball. James was in my class, and he enjoyed basketball as much as I did. He was a little taller and heavier than I was, but I was a lot quicker. When I went to his house, his two younger twin brothers, Billy and Kenny, usually played with us. They were only one grade behind us in school, so they were big enough to match up with us in a game of two on two.

That afternoon while I was driving the tractor, I started thinking about basketball. I was going over in my mind the form for shooting a free throw, how to dribble the ball behind my back, and the correct foot to use when shooting a left-handed lay-up. I wanted to practice those techniques later over at James’ house.

I started thinking about the basketball team we would have for next year in school, and since I was fifteen and would be in the ninth grade, I would be eligible to play on the varsity team. Thinking about playing on a high school team was a little bit scary, but in my mind, I was the star player and fame and fortune followed me around. I imagined that everywhere I went people wanted my autograph and picture. My rise to stardom was brought back to earth when I reached the end of the row and had to turn the tractor around.

I realized that I had been daydreaming and not paying attention to what I was doing. Quickly I looked back over my shoulder and noticed that the last four or five rows I had planted were as crooked as a snake. I realigned the tractor and replanted those few rows. They would have a double dose of peas, but at least the rows would be straight, which would please Papa, who was a stickler for the way his crops looked as well as how they produced.

The rest of the day I stayed focused on what I was doing and finished the planting about five o’clock. I walked up on the hill where Papa was plowing, and he was just about finished also. I wandered over to the shade tree where he had a fruit jar of water and took a big drink. The water really hit the spot, especially since I had been breathing the dust from the dry and sandy ground. After getting a drink of water, I sat down on the ground underneath the tree and waited for Papa. The wait was short because within just a few minutes, he was finished and ready to go to the house.

When we got back to the house, Papa went inside to see Mama while I parked the tractor under the shed where we used to feed Shorty. Once the tractor was parked, I started to feed. I put feed out for Jon and the three milk cows we had along with a little hen scratch for the chickens.

After feeding Jon, the cows and chickens, I mixed up some slop for the pigs. Every year about this time, Papa would get some pigs to fatten up until winter when we would butcher them. After I had mixed the slop in a feed bucket, I walked to the pigpen only to discover the pigs were gone! I went to the house to get Papa. When we returned, Papa noticed a place on the backside of the pen where they had rooted out. I’ll be John Brown! he said. Looks like they headed for the bottom. Come on, Boy, let’s see if we can find ‘em.

I knew I needed to help Papa, but I really wanted to go play basketball. Nevertheless, I went to the house and got my .22-rifle and went with Papa to look for the pigs. We searched high and low until dark, but never did find them. When it finally got too dark to see, Papa said, Well, I guess we might as well mosey on back to the house. Maybe they’ll turn up tomorrow. Of course by this time, it was too late to go over to visit James.

That night around the supper table, I asked Papa if he ever played basketball when he was a boy. To my surprise, he said he used to play a little in school. He went on to say, In fact, that was the main reason I went to school. My papa worked us pretty hard on the farm, but when basketball season rolled around, I tried to make it to school often enough to be able to play.

Were ya very good? I asked with curiosity.

Yeah, not to brag, but I was pretty good. I was a good jumper. I could out-jump most boys my height or taller. Jumping was important back then because you would jump at center court after each basket was scored, and the team that had the best jumpers usually controlled the game.

Did you jump center?

Naw. Willie Dikes jumped center most of the time. We called Willie Stretch because he was long and lanky as if someone had grabbed him on both ends and stretched him. Well, Stretch was our center. There weren’t many fellas taller than Stretch, so we had the advantage over most other teams.

I was intrigued with the idea of Papa playing basketball. Later that evening after supper, I had all kinds of questions for him. So as we settled in the living room, he told me about his team. I asked him how many points a team back then typically scored, and he said that twenty points was a high scoring game and most of the time, a team didn’t get over fifteen.

I asked him if they ever won their district, and he replied, We didn’t have districts like you have today, but we won the county championship each year I played. Back then just about every little community had its own school, and neighboring schools in the county played each other. County champions that wanted to do so could advance to a regional playoff, but we never were able to go. I have often wondered how we would have done had we gone. A few times the champions from other counties would come over to play us for practice, and we won each and every time. The coaches on those teams would get so mad when they could never beat us, and one time after a game, a coach started eating his hat. We all laughed and figured that he had made a bet with someone.

Why didn’t ya play for regional?

Well, the main reason was because of the distance and the time it would take us away from our chores at home. Understand, my papa, like most everybody else’s papa, didn’t care if I played basketball or not, and if I played, it had better not interfere with my chores at home. So there was no way he would allow me to be gone anywhere for a week to play basketball.

I was fascinated with Papa’s stories and how just a few ole farm boys got together and whipped all the neighboring schools, including the town schools. They didn’t even have a coach and played most of their games outside on a dirt court. They didn’t have any tennis shoes, but they played in their plow shoes. We talked until bedtime, and as I started to bed, I turned and asked, Papa, do you think I might could buy a basketball the next time we go to town?

He smiled and said, We’ll see. Good night, Son.

Good night, Papa. Good night, Mama.

I went to bed, but I didn’t go to sleep right away. I tried to imagine Papa and Stretch doing their magic on the basketball court. I just never thought about Papa in that way before. I never even thought much about him ever being a boy. Maybe tomorrow I could make it over to James’ house.

Chapter 2

The next morning I woke up to the smell of coffee. I got up and went to the kitchen where Mama was cooking breakfast. She had biscuits in the oven with bacon and eggs frying over the burners. Papa was down at the barn milking. I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table and asked Mama if she remembered Papa playing basketball when he was in school.

Oh yes, she replied. Your papa was the star of the team. All of us girls wanted to go to the games just to watch him play. He was as quick as lightning and could dribble and shoot with either his right or left hand. There was hardly anyone who could guard your papa. I was so proud when he asked ME to be his girlfriend. I respected him so much, and later came to love him with all my heart. He’s a good man, Little Pete.

About that time, Papa came in from the barn whistling, and he had a bucket full of milk, which he set on the cabinet. Morning, Little Pete, he said as he passed by me.

Morning, I replied. What do you need me to do today? The peas are all planted in patch three, and patch two is not ready to pick yet.

What I need you to do is to spend some time down at the creek looking for those renegade pigs. If you can’t find ‘em, then guess I need to get some more pretty quick. While you’re gone, I’ll work on their pen.

After breakfast, I headed for the creek bottom. Buster, my old dog, went with me. Buster was the son of Lucky, Ben’s German shepherd, and Biscuit, Mary Ann’s neighbor’s hound. Buster was probably ten or twelve years old, but still faithful and active. I remember Mary Ann giving him to Ben one year for Christmas. Buster and I made our way to the creek looking for the two pigs, but we had no luck finding ‘em. Finally after an hour or so, I noticed a few tracks in the mud, but soon lost them when they made their way back into the leaf-covered ground. By noon, I had given up, and Buster and I started back to the house. When we got there, I saw the pigs in the pigpen! Quickly I rushed inside to see how and where Papa found them. Papa said, Calvin Petty came by with ‘em in the back of his pickup. Seems they showed up at his place, so he caught ‘em and started checking with the neighbors to see who they belonged to.

I was sure glad to see ‘em. Maybe now after dinner I could go over to see James and shoot a few hoops. I mentioned it while we were eating, and neither Mama nor Papa objected. As soon as I finished, I hopped on my bike and away I went. The Petty Farm was between our farm and where James lived, and as I rode by, I saw Mr. Petty in the lane in front of his house. When I saw him, I turned and rode up his lane to thank him for bringing our pigs home.

Hello, Mr. Petty, I said. I seemed to have startled him a bit as he was examining the limbs on one of his fruit trees. He looked up and said, Why, howdy there, Little Pete. What brings you around?

Well, I was just passing by and saw you out here and wanted to thank you for bringing our pigs home.

Oh, it was nothing. Your pa would have done the same for me. But it was nice of you to stop by to say so. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.

While he was talking, Sara Beth walked up and said, Hi, Little Pete. I haven’t seen you all summer. What’ch been up to?

Briefly I was speechless because Sara Beth had changed