I reached my full height by the time I was fourteen, and most of it before I was twelve. I grew so fast that my mother couldn’t find clothes to fit me. Clothes were the least of my worries. My brian couldn’t keep up with my body. When we would choose up teams at recess, I was the last of the boys chosen for a team. It was like the kids were saying, “We don’t want Billy, he’s a klutz.”
In sixth grade, I couldn’t play basketball, I was too clumsy. I couldn’t play football, I had bad knees. I couldn’t play baseball, I was too uncoordinated to catch a speeding ball in the outfield, and I didn’t have the timing to make the bat meet the ball, in softball. But, there was one thing I could do. I could drive my long, lanky legs forward in a dead run. I was a fast runner, and I had the perseverance to run for a long time.
My bad knee wasn’t bothering me at this time. It had healed, and I didn’t have the pain and discomfort that I had when I was eleven. I looked forward to junior high and high school because I knew I would be on the track teams there, but in elementary school the other sports were more important.
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