The Perp Walk

I didn’t play basketball my senior year of high school, 1971-72.    The team went on to a great season without me.  Hmm. Addition by subtraction, you say? Not really, because I was pretty much a non-factor as a squad member in basketball at Central High School in prior years, mostly supporting and cheering the team from the bench. Let’s just call it a coincidence.

The Tigers won the conference, won districts, and went to the Missouri State Quarterfinals, finishing 24-4.  Cape Central would have likely gone to the semifinals if they didn’t run into a sizzling Sumner High School team that shot 75% (not a typo) from the field in the quarterfinals at Kiel Auditorium while beating the Tigers 66-61. 

These guys were very exciting to watch.  Led in scoring by a pair of 6’5″ juniors, Dick Buxton and Hunter Stiegemeyer, the team also featured the steady hands of seniors Mike Uhls, Ken Hosea, and defensive star Roland Daye. Super sixth man Randy Carter was instant offense, a scoring machine averaging double digits off the bench. These guys played very hard on defense, especially Roland, who at 6’4″, was quick and tenacious, and was usually tasked with guarding the other team’s best scorer. 

That season their conference rivals, the Charleston Blue Jays, were especially tough. No game showed this team’s character better than when the Tigers won a hard fought game in a hostile environment on the road at Charleston late in the year. This game somehow avoided a fan melee after the game, caused by their scorekeeper. Here’s what happened: the Tigers were down by 15 points late in the fourth quarter, and heroically fought their way back to within 1 point with five seconds left in the game and possession of the ball. After a timeout, the Tigers ran a play, missed the shot, and Roland Daye darted through the lane and tipped it in, just as the entire scoreboard and clock went blank. Apparently, the timekeeper in his excitement kicked the plug out of its socket. Yes, really. Pandemonium. When the scoreboard was eventually plugged back in, it showed one second left. It was generally felt that the scoring play in its entirety likely took more than five seconds, but the refs had no choice but to rule the basket good. We (Tiger fans) all literally had to run a gauntlet of angry, frustrated Blue Jay fans to get to the parking lot.

One other Friday night game at home was particularly memorable for me.  I had gone to the game with my good friend Brian and had settled into a large group of fellow seniors on the student side.  The stands were packed on both sides of the gym. I don’t remember our opponent that night.  As we were watching the game, I began to notice a commotion behind us and to the right of where we were sitting.  It appeared to somehow involve my baseball teammate and catcher Mark, who was sitting next to Kent, another classmate.  Word was whispered down the row that Mark had an air-horn that very much resembled the horn that sounded at the end of each quarter.  Hmm, that could be trouble, I thought.  I went back to watching the game, aware that their antics at the end of the first quarter had already gotten the attention of the mostly humorless Athletic Director Weldon Hager and Assistant Athletic Director Leon Brinkopf, who were both grimly scouring the group of us from the other side of the gym where the parents and other adults were sitting. 

With Brian on my right and another friend Terry on my left, we were minding our business watching the action on the court when the word came down our row that Mark intended to blow the horn one more time close to half-time, with a seemingly (at least to them) brilliant plan to pass the horn down our row stealthily with our feet so that when Mr. Hager and Coach Brink followed the sound, there would be no horn to confiscate.  OK, whatever. 

Right before half-time, Mark blew the horn. The referees stopped play, and all eyes in the gymnasium were on our section.  Mr. Hager and Coach Brink made a bee-line to where our group was sitting.  As predicted, the air-horn began making its way down the row, sliding it with the feet.  Brian passed it to me, and I started to pass it on to Terry.  Terry, wisely not wanting any part of this fiasco, froze, and while staring straight ahead almost unperceptively shook his head.  Wild-eyed, red-faced and furious, Weldon Hager was looking down our row by this time and I was about to be caught with the horn under my feet. Instinctively, I kicked it under the stands.  Uh oh. Mr. Hager saw this and immediately gestured for me and Brian to follow him.  We obediently made the perp walk down our row and down the aisle, all of this happening while everyone in the crowded gym including the players, coaches, parents, and referees were watching intently.

Brian and I were summarily ejected from the gymnasium.  In a snap, we found ourselves out in the parking lot in front of my red Volkswagen Beetle.  Brian and I looked at each other in disbelief.  I admittedly was in a bit of shock.  I think it was Brian that said finally: “WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?!?!?”  The absurdity of it all hit us like a splash of ice cold water.  A spontaneous, genuine belly laugh erupted from both of us–the likes of which I had not experienced in a long time.  We spent the rest of the evening listening to the game on the radio, all the while shaking our heads at the crazy circumstances we landed in, and cruising Broadway as was the custom back in those days.

Epilogue:

On Monday, I was called out of class to see Coach Brinkopf.  In his office, I was asked to sit down.  He spoke first: 

“Randy, we now know that you and Brian were not the ones responsible for the air horn. Mark came in today and confessed. Apparently, it is an expensive horn that Mark borrowed from his uncle Jerry’s boat, and Jerry wants it back.  Look, I know all about loyalty and protecting friends and not ratting them out, but you must realize that you had an excellent opportunity to show some leadership, and you should try to stop things like this from happening.  Your classmates respect you, and they will listen to you.”

“Sorry, Coach”.

“Anyway, having said all that, I am apologizing to you and to Brian for last Friday night.”

”That’s OK Coach, it’s been that kind of year.”

One positive thing…it did give Brian and I a little ‘street cred’, at least for a few days, anyway.