The Ball Park Boys

By Shade Jones

Excerpt from Making Money

He then gave Tommy a hard pull on both of his ears causing him to cry out and fall to the
ground.
Gary lunged towards the nasty smelly man, but I moved quicker and jumped in front of
him.
I knew as quick as the razor sharp knife had disappeared into his pocket it could reappear.
The Ball Park Boys always stuck together and would defend each other, but this wasn't a
fight they could win today.

"I'm giving you ten traps and if you want to make some money, catch me some
muskrats.
Don't screw up their hides and you better not loose any of my traps, you little punks got
that?" the nasty smelly man said as he glared at us with those beady mean looking eyes.
Gary and Tommy both had a look on their face that I had not seen before.

The look wasn't one when we had been behind in a baseball or football game and the
other team would taunt us, or call us names.
This look was different.
This look was one of anger and bitterness.
I knew one day I may not be able to stop them should we encounter the nasty smelly man
and he started messing with Tommy again.










Excerpt from The Best Boat Ever


We are now going faster and backwards down the rapids.
In unison Tommy and Jerald who had not said a word since we launched, began
screaming at the tops of their lungs.
They knew the end was near.
They wouldn't even get to see what large tree or rock that we would crash in to would send them flying out backwards and then watch as our new death wagon slowly
Fall on top them, pushing them to their watery graves.
These thoughts made them scream even louder.

I still had a death grip on my pole and was keeping it under water as we raced
backwards.
Suddenly it stuck in the mud and sand on the bottom knocking me forward into the backs
Of Jerald and Tommy.
This made them only scream louder, as they knew the end was near.
I never let go of the grip on my pole and as I regained my balance our boat miraculously
stopped and very slowly the front began to turn back into the middle of the river.
The river had now widened and was much deeper and yes calm.
After our boat spun around straight I pulled my pole out of the hole it was stuck in and
gave up a slight push.
The water had become quiet and was moving slowly.
We had just survived death.
Our boat was still floating although it had a couple inches of water in the middle.
Gary, Tommy and Jerald all turned to look at me.
They gazed at me with a strange look.









Excerpt from Baseball

It didn't matter that blood was coming from our sliding arms and hands.
We had played on much rougher infields before.
We executed our much practiced method of pop-up sliding when stealing a base.
We would never turn to look for a ball, or in this situation people coming after us.
It didn't matter, we were on our feet racing down the long driveway.

Our feet were barely touching the ground and when we reached the railroad tracks we
only went faster.
We were racing towards home, towards safety.
We were not going to stop until we were at the Ball Park, or home base.
That was all that mattered now.
We would be safe there, we would be home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465305831

Shade Jones

Author was born in Harlan County, Kentucky and moved to Whitesburg, Kentucky when he was five years old. He graduated from Whitesburg High School and attended Eastern Kentucky University, Miami Dade, Calvery College, Morehead State University and Nova University. He currently lives in Naples, Florida where he spends time working on the next edition of “The Ball Park Boys,” when he isn’t shuffling his five grand kids to practices and appointments. The author is also finishing “Shoot ‘til You Hit, Shoot ‘til You Miss.” A novel full of intrigue, mystery and fun reading of how a hillbilly college dropout from Kentucky ends up being pursued by one of the biggest drug kingpins in Miami for taking his gold and his wife.

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Shade Jones.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011961226

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-9784-3

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-9783-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-0583-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

105297

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory or Mark Tommy Witt, one of the original Ball Park Boys who died a young tragic death following the Whitesburg girl’s basketball team with his cousin Thelma Mae, A Ball Park Girl inside. Sadly, also to one of my best friends in life, and my hero. Gary, who not only helped, but encouraged me to write this book.

To my Mom, Dad, and Brother who I miss everyday and to my wife who is my biggest supporter in writing this book.

Shade

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1 The Best Boat Ever

Chapter 2 Messy Mess

Chapter 3 Making Money

Chapter 4 Baseball

Chapter 5 The Flying Sign

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The places in this novel are real and, I hope, faithfully described, but they are used fictitiously. The same is true of certain business and people the Ball Park Boys would encounter.

In all other respects, however, this novel is a work of fiction, names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

I wish to thank my sister Norma Jean Gedvillas for the cover and sketches in this book.

INTRODUCTION

The Ball Park Boys is a copitulation of antidotal stories and events about growing up in Eastern Kentucky, namely Whitesburg and having a ball park just outside your front yard. The Ball Park Boys, Gary, Jerald, Mark or Tommy as we called him, and me Shade started each day with a new adventure. This occurred more often in the summer months when we had more time to come up with the adventures and misadventures of our youth.

If you can, imagine how many boys had the North fork of the Kentucky River in their back yards and the L&N railroad and bridge running over it, and their mountain on the other side of it. The most special area though was The Ball Park which was just beyond my front yard.

This was a time of no T.V.’s, X-boxes, Wii, or I pods, but a time of us using our imagination to make up our games and then making whatever we needed to play them with. We played them with the full spirit, heart, and fight, (and yes we did sometimes) that we could. We would then come back the next day to start all over again with feelings both good and bad from the previous day totally forgotten about.

There were several other boys who sometimes joined us, Benny, Jimbo, Billy, Coy and others who lived on the mountain above or just down the road from the Ball Park. The original four who started, The Ball Park Boys Gary, Jerald, Tommy and me stayed to the finish and beyond.

For anyone who is reading this I hope the stories bring back memories of a time when boys will be boys, especially The Ball Park Boys.

CHAPTER 1

 The Best Boat Ever

Walking home from grade school everyday created many of the adventures and excitement for the Ball Park Boys, and this day in April was going to be one of them. Springtime in the mountains is an incredible time. The dogwoods were blooming, the red buds are out, and flowers just seem to pop out of the ground over night. The grand oaks, poplars and sycamores are all tinted with different shades of green. The brown sage grass that had laid on the banks of the railroad all winter was now sprouting little green blades. Dandelions and wild onions were also coming alive, you could tell by their smell. The spring rains had washed most of winters dirt and grime from the streets and the days were getting longer and warmer. These changes however, meant nothing to the Ball Park Boys. Spring was simply the time you didn’t have to wear your long johns anymore. The big clod hopper shoes that we had worn all winter could be put away or passed down to someone younger and smaller if the soles and heels had any wear left in them. The grass turning green and the flowers popping out just meant that it would soon be time to cut the grass and be yelled at for stepping on the flowers when chasing a ball down. Spring time to the Ball Park Boys meant it was time to get the bats, balls and gloves out. They had a reputation to keep. They were the best, but to be the best they had to play and practice more than anyone else, and they did! Walking home this day, however the talk and playing of baseball was going to be put on hold, as a new adventure was just around the corner.

The Ball Park Boys were taking the town route home that day. Normally they took the rail road track home, not only because it was quicker, but of the many opportunities that it offered for adventure. On this particular day however, the L&N train was on the tracks and they knew from several strong lectures and a few spankings that they didn’t walk the tracks with the train on it. It could start moving without any warning and cut your leg or arm off. This was the story or the explanation their parents had give them, so it had to be true.

The Ball Park Boys had stopped at the old bridge that passed over the North Fork of the Kentucky River just past Ammerman’s Garage. The water was still high and running swift from the spring rains. Waves were splashing around the giant concrete column that supported the center of the bridge and created small whirlpools spinning away from it. An empty bottle came floating underneath them and all eight eyes watched it bounce, bob, and spin in one of the whirlpools just before it went out of sight before the Coke Cola curve. Tommy did a mock shooting like he had his Red Ryder bb gun, Pow, he said, I got it.

Suddenly Gary as sincerely and dramatically as he could said, We need another boat, and in unison the other three of us shook our heads up and down in agreement. Gary was right, we did need another boat. The old wooden, tar patched handed down boat we had last year had come to a unceremoniously end. Last fall when we ran out of the tar and nails, and the old boat developed more holes than we could fill, we turned it loose. Sadly we set it adrift down the North Fork of the Kentucky River. We’d had a lot of fun with it, but mostly it was a big pain as we constantly had to bail water out of it, and when the battle to keep it afloat was near we would all have to jump out and drag it back to the bank. Under our breath we would say the words that if heard aloud would bring about a switching. Jerald got our attention when he asked, I wonder where it is going to go? As Jerald was the youngest he had not yet had the geography class about Kentucky that Gary and I had recently completed. We knew our river, the North Fork of the Kentucky headed towards Hazard and that it joined up with the Middle and the South Fork to make the Kentucky River. That river then ran into to the great Ohio River and eventually into the mighty Mississippi and followed it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Our tarred, patched up and unnamed boat could one day be floating in the Gulf of Mexico. Heck, it could end up on a Florida beach or even travel to the Panama Canal, and get pushed through it by some large boat and end up in the Pacific Ocean. Our imaginations were both vivid and without boundaries.

Why didn’t we name it or put our names on it? Mark asked, and we all just shook our heads in agreement.

Chapter 1.jpg

That boat was history, spring was here and that meant summer and playing in the river was soon approaching.

You’re right Gary, I said, we need a boat, but not a wooden one, we need a car top. A car top was the perfect boat for this part of the North Fork of the Kentucky River. A car top would go over the low spots in the river and ride the rapids perfectly, and then when you got in deep water the poler could guide and speed the boat in any direction. Only one person could stand up in the boat and that was the poler. He would stand in the back of the boat with a seven to ten foot wooden pole in his hands and with one push send the boat skimming across the rapids or glide quietly through the deep water. Everyone else had to sit on boards placed across the bottom and a rope would be tied on one of the cut off window post to hold the boat when loading and unloading, The Perfect Boat.

Mark, or Tommy as we called him, just couldn’t understand what we were talking about. He had never seen one on the river. I don’t get it, he said, you mean if we cut the top off of one of those old cars, and pointed to a row of old abandoned cars that were parked behind Ammermans Garage, that we could make a boat out of it? Gary and I saw it at the same time. There it sat at the end, a massive black Cadillac hearst. It truly had to be twenty five feet long. It would be the car top of all car tops. We would be the kings on the river. The thought never entered our minds that before its demise it had hauled hundreds if not thousands of dead people to their graves.

We did know we had to have it, and the four of us took off towards the garage not giving any thought of how should we somehow get this boat of all boats given to us, cut the top of it off. When we got to the garage we decided to let Gary do the asking as he was the biggest of us. The four of us walked into the open garage door and saw the three mechanics all working on the same engine. They didn’t bother to acknowledge us until Tommy pushed Gary out in front of us, and yelled hey! The men raised up from under the hood and turned to look at us. Gary managed to mumble a few words with the only understandable ones being we wanted that old funeral car or, death wagon, as Jerald had started calling it. What do you boys want with that old caddy, the largest of the mechanics turned and asked. With no decorum at all we shouted, We want to make a car top out of it, make it a boat! After what seemed like an eternity another one of them said, A boat, then they all began to laugh. A boat, they said and laughed some more. We saw our hope of having the greatest boat ever begin to start fading away and worse than that, we were being made fun of at the same time. Suddenly the big man who had asked us earlier what we wanted the caddy for looked up and said with a big grin, you boys go right ahead and make that old caddy float.

I don’t know if it was the sad desperate looks on our faces that prompted him to say it, but it was all that we needed to hear. Triumphantly we ran out of the garage to claim our new possession. As we were running we could hear them laughing and saying, a boat out of that old caddy. It was obvious they had never seen a car top, but we had. A plan was made. We would start the next morning which was Saturday and we were each to bring anything that could be used to cut the top off.

Saturday morning came and we were armed and ready. Gary had brought his double bladed ax. Tommy had brought a hammer but Jerald had nothing. He did however, have both his front pockets stuffed with bubble gum and candy from his parents store, and luckily didn’t get caught. I had brought my trusty hatchet. It was a tool that had cut up loads of fire wood and trimmed tree limbs for us to use as spears when playing Cowboys and Indians. Also, every Christmas I would go up on our mountain to find our family Christmas tree and use my trusty hatchet to cut