Now, in fifth grade, I finally got my wish. I arrived at school the next day with a fine pair of crutches. But nobody believed that I really needed them.
Everyone called me, “Billy the Fake.” I didn’t have a cast and so I wasn’t really in pain, so I didn’t need those crutches. I think they were just jealous.
After a while though, the other kids started to accept the fact that I really did need them, especially when I kept bringing a note from the doctor to be excused from physical activity..
I wasn’t all that good in sports. Except for running, I was a klutz, and now I couldn’t even run. My dad told me it was because my body was growing so fast that it couldn’t keep up with itself. But I still felt bad to get relegated to the far reaches of right field where nobody would hit the ball.
As for hitting the ball, I simply couldn’t do that. No matter how much I practiced in my back yard, I still missed the ball when it was pitched to me at school. Occasionally I would get lucky and hit it, but that was rare.)
Ironically, I never hit a home run, until the time I was on my crutches.
I was usually content to watch the softball games from behind the back stop. I would prop myself up on my crutches and grab onto the fence with one hand, and then wait out the recess bell while watching the game.
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