Index 
New Castle Years Thought Process
Memory: So faint, so foggy, so unreliable. As I review my old files (memories), I find most are overprinted with at least one, commonly many, previous distorted recalls. Each recall strengthens and edits the file contents. Others are sacrificed or weakened for that strength, perhaps gone, or the particulars so generalized as to be gone forever. The remaining files, I am sure, have some basis in actual events or previous thoughts. Though I believe my memories to be accurate, they probably aren’t. As unusual for me in this journal, let’s take an example. Memories of my senior-year high-school basketball season, the most important thing by far in my conscious universe at the time. I have no memory of our win-loss record at any given time, which along with abundant other statistics are recorded somewhere. I can’t even remember how many points our team or even I scored in any given game, except my 36 against Anderson, which was remembered from reading an article later, not from experience of the game itself. I can remember some of the statistics recorded, tabulated, and summarized by others: over 100 against Wilkinson in the sectional; 21 or 19 against Lafayette Jeff, a total score of about 42 – 41 (Jeff). I mention the Jeff game because one of my few “memories” of the season was from the end of that game. We are down by one; seconds left; they are shooting free throws; the rebound bounces my way; I grab it and take off down the court, as I was alway did leading a fast break. Only then do I have my first “recall”; having the ball at mid-court, dribbling toward our basket. Two or perhaps three vaguely remembered, diffuse as a cloud defenders were in front of me; Denny Couch ahead and to my right, Dick Callaway slightly behind and to my left. I pass to Denny, he shot and missed; and we lost by one to the eventual State Champions. As I write this, I realize the memory is even fainter than I thought, perhaps just a memory of a memory of a memory, everytime I "recall" the event. I certainly remember remembering this before, several times. What color were their uniforms? Ours? Can’t remember where Larry King was on the floor. Can’t remember the day of the week, probably Friday. Where my girl friend, Connie was sitting in the audience. Can’t remember any of that, but I bet I knew where they all were at the time. Why did I pass to Denny? Can’t remember, but after a flash of thought faster than words to the effect, “I have options, judging from the position and movement of the defenders that can affect me. Dick Callaway and those behind him don’t matter, they can’t effect the outcome in the time available and are dropped from my consciousness as “irrelevant” to my options (perhaps this was an error in judgement). The options: (1) stop just outside the foul line and take a jump shot myself (@ 35% odds of succeeding), (2) drive toward the basket encountering the defenders and see what develops, perhaps drawing a foul (@ 45% - 55%), (3) pass to Denny for his favorite, dead-eye corner shot for which he was famous (55% - 65%). That was a no brainer. | There are glory and shame to consider as well as winning. If I shoot or drive the glory and shame are all mine. I think I now and then dislike shame more than I like glory. If I pass to Denny and he scores, I get to share in the glory (statisticians call it an “assist”), but if he misses, the shame shifts mostly to Denny, which I am sure he felt, perhaps still feels. Another no brainer, pass the ball. What do I remember of that very important 2-3 seconds of my life? Very little it seems: a vague cloud of visual fields and the “fact” I had passed to Denny and he missed, that’s basically all, but a whole book full of conjectures about the event from such a paucity of memory. I only have a few other “event” memories from that basketball season: blocking Terry Harvey’s layup attempt in the sectional tourney. Terry was a “best-friend” before and after that event and we discussed it often afterward. At issue was whether I fouled Terry while blocking his shot. He claims yes, I say no. No foul was called by the referee. Terry steadfastly maintains (perhaps to the day he died just last year in 2019) that he was fouled; I steadfastly maintained he was not. I did block his layup attempt at the tunnel end of the New Castle Field House, but did I foul him? Though I probably knew at the time (players know), now I have no idea whether or not I did and no “event” memory to check against. After years of recalling the event, embellishing it and refiling the edited version, I can only recall the recall now. By the way, Terry’s team the next year went undefeated during the regular seaso, teams rarely go undefeated. A great, glorious memory for Terry, his team mates and school mates and all Mt Summit fans, including me, with ties to Mt. Summit, Indiana, my home town. It seems I can recall only two other events from that season: a reverse, right-handed layup against Anderson’s center who overplayed me to my left, Mauch I believe was his name, the weakest player on a very strong team that beat us every year since junior high. Steve Clevenger was their guard who joined me on the All-Star team, along with, Denny Brady, Mr. Basketball and Terry Stillabower from Lafayette Jeff, four out of ten from the same conference. There was controversy because no negroes (their term) were on the team for the second straight year. In any event, I remember pivoting on my right foot, one step and an easy right handed layup – that’s all, the whole memory. We lost the game but not by much. The last event I remember is having the ball stolen from my by York (I think that was his name, the star of Muncie South) in the afternoon regional game. He scored then to end the first half. I was dribbling for a last shot, dumb; I knew, I was not a good dribbler, Dick Callaway should have been doing that. |