As told by Virginia Vauthier

This story was provided to the Texas Tortilla Factory from my Sister Barbara Vauthier-Wienberg.

This story was written and shared with my Sister by my Mother, Virginia Vauthier, of Dublin, Texas.
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February 28, 2005

Dear Madeline,

Have been thinking of you and your playing basketball. You are nice and tall as I was. I was embarrassed by being so tall; sometimes glad to be tall. It brings to mind a game I have always remembered so decided to tell you about it.

It was February 18, 1940. I was a senior at Carlton, Texas, my third year there on the team. Professor Huffman was our coach. We were playing our “rival” team from Fairy in the last game of the season, my last game, so you can imagine how “pepped up” we all were. Back then there were six on each team. You only played half the court: forwards one half, guards on the other half. Coach used me as either one.

As it was my birthday my boyfriend, Oscar Ray Mathews came to my house early. We drove around a little while, then went early to the gym for a good parking spot. He had a present for me. As I was about to open it, he gave me a kiss, and thrilled me a lot. When I opened my gift it was a little glass figure of a boy and girl holding hands and looking into each others eyes. I just knew this was as romantic as could be. I rewrapped my gift and leaned over to put it in the backseat, and he put his arms around me again. I just knew he would kiss me, but there came a banging on the car and we could hear someone talking. It was his twin cousins, Ima and Oma, who were also on the team.

Ray rolled the window down. They were both talking at once.

“Jenny, you have to come on and warm up!”

“Prof is getting upset!”

“You all been out here too long!”

“Come on in now!”

I said, “In a minute; I have to tell Ray one more thing.”

They went back into the gym; it was cold out there. I was thanking Ray for my gift and gave him a hug. He pulled me closer to him, and bang, ban, on the car again. Ima was there again with a frown on her face.

She said, “I don’t care if you are the team captain, Prof is going to bench you. Come on!”

My reply was “No, he won’t.” I was feeling my importance. Ima wouldn’t go so there was nothing else to do but go in.

My ball suit was on. It was heavy white satin with maroon trim and numbers on the back. My number was six. The shorts were fitted and short, and showed my shape and nice log legs really well. We got out of the car and ran into the gym. It was full to the top seats. Everyone was talking. Prof was frowning at me. I put my coat on the bench, joined the others on the court trying to ignore the whistles and calls from the seats. We were in line making shots from the floor; it seemed I couldn’t miss the basket. We were ready to play. I just knew we would win.

The whistle blew. We all made a ring around coach, so he could give instructions.

He said, “Ima, Oma, Eloise, on guard. Dick, Fredia, … Frances, forwards.”

I couldn’t believe I was benched, but tried not to let it show. Ima gave me an I told you so look. They hit the floor at a run, while the rest of sat. Boy, that bench was uncomfortable. The jump at center went in Fairy’s favor. They scored quickly. We got the ball but Fairy recovered it. The gym was in an uproar. They were all yelling, some for and some against us. What a noise! I could hardly sit still. They were calling to me from the sidelines. Fairy scored again.

Prof called me to him, fussed at me with a stern look on his face, but sent me in as forward. My guard was Louise, Fairy’s best. She wasn’t quite as tall as me, but fast. She bumped me with her rear as I started my first shot; it cleared the goal without touching the rim, and I got two free shots for the foul, making them both. The score at the first quarter was 4 to 6, in Fairy’s favor. At half time we were tied, 12 to 12. At the 3rd quarter break, the score was still tied 24 to 24. We were all really playing hard. So far I hadn’t missed a shot. All that practice after school was paying off.

Twenty-eight to 28. Fairy scored again. Then we made a goal. The ending whistle blew. A tie.

“Three minute overtime,” said the referee.

A minute can sure go fast. Carlton got the jump. I had the ball, not far from the center; my guard had run closer to the goal. I dribbled a step or two closer, and poised to shoot. The ball took forever, seeming to move in slow motion. The crowd roared. Prof jumped up and slapped his leg like he wished it was me.

Some one yelled, “Oh-h-h, Legs!”

The ball sailed on — right through the goal without touching the rim. The whistle blew; the game was over. The crowd was roaring and whistles came from somewhere. Then my teammates were all around me, smiling and talking all at once. A game that started off with me on the bench ended great! What a birthday!

I had several nicknames: Legs, Georgia Peach, Ginger, Blondie, and Lean and Lanky. I had long, blond hair nearly to my waist. The nicknames were called by older boys, some not in school anymore, mostly from the sidelines when I did things right in their opinion, or wrong. I just ignored them.

After the game, my Dad said, “I think you were punished enough on that bench, so I won’t add anything else for your sitting in the car so long.”

I don’t remember what happened to my little figure of the boy and girl. I received a third year sweater with three stripes and a captain’s star on it. The letter is here somewhere. Years later, I saw Oscar Ray in the store in Dublin. We talked a little while. He looked like I remembered only older. He had married, but he still looked at me in a special way. He drank himself to death, so Ima told me. Ima made a nurse and worked in the Dublin-Stephenville area. Oma was in a rest home and had been for years. Oma’s husband had a stroke and died. Oma went into a coma and never woke up.

You never know how what you do may affect others. So, try to be good and kind, so you will not have too many regrets when you are old.

I love you and know you will be a wonderful Lady.

Bye for now,
MeMe
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© 2007 “Meme Story to Madeline” by Virginia Vauthier, Dublin, Texas
Photo and Website © 2006 Texas Tortilla Factory – Mike Vauthier