As usual we adjourned back to 28 President to rejuvenate ourselves with much needed fluids and hot dogs. The stench of defeat hung over us like a visible dark cloud. I thought of angrily overturning the post parade “spread” much like Phils manager Larry Bowa might do when he senses that his charges are getting "too comfortable with losing"  but I instead chose the Terry Francona approach of friendly benign neglect.

Larry                    Terry

I put a little bit of undue parental pressure on Brad when I mentioned to him casually on the walk home that our entire future as a family rested upon him winning the “25 yard dash for 5 year olds” race. We returned to the “Triangle” at one o’clock, this year with small boys in tow. In previous years nap time always coincided with the games; Three is also the age that youngsters start to compete in organized events here, so we’re glad to have them with us.

We watched the various “25 yard dashes” as the racing categories descended from the ripe old age of 8 by age group. We cheered on various acquaintances as they tried to achieve Independence Day glory. Gabby George even won her event with no shoes on! Finally the big moment came: The call for 5 year olds to the starting line. I felt a bit guilty about my paternal behavior when Brad confided in me that he was nervous about the race. This is the first year that he’ll be running the long course, as the three and four year olds only run 15 yards.

“On your Mark........ Get Set...........GO!” Despite a second consecutive year of getting a late start, Brad exploded into a burst of subsonic speed midway and passed all pretenders to the crown. VICTORY! for a third straight year! The unbroken skein continues! Hallelujah!

My first impulse after congratulating Brad was to ask Sally if she was absolutely certain that he was indeed our son. Even highly efficient Jefferson Hospital could have accidentally switched babies on us way back in 1995, with our natural “loser” baby going to some other poor family. Initial doubts aside, we all awaited Ben and Gabe’s entry in the “15 yard dash for 3 year olds” category.

“The Great Emulator”- Abraham Lincoln was “The Great Emancipator”. Ronald Reagan was known as “The Great Communicator”. We’ve called Brad Morbeck “The Great Empathizer”. Benjamin Lyter Morbeck has a chance to go down in history as “The Great Emulator”.

As the three year olds lined up at the edge of the tarmac we had high hopes for our two first time entrants. The race started and disaster struck when some fellow racer tangled himself up in Gabriel’s heavily churning legs, sending both of them to the ground.

 Despite being well clear of the accident scene, future thespian Ben looked over his shoulder and quickly threw himself down to the ground with his brother in an act of filial solidarity. We’re quite lucky that they’re boys and not horses--otherwise certain members of the melee of flailing arms and legs might have to have been destroyed.

Our next event to enter was entitled, “Kick the Ball”. The rules were hazy but essentially members of the 3 year old set kick a large beach ball from the starting line and then go and sit down where their ball lands on the grass. Gabriel had the best kick of the day but unfortunately it was disqualified because it was his SECOND kick after a harmless dribbler sliced off his foot on his first attempt. Our losing streak extends to two.

Brad entered the “Water Balloon” toss, seeking out his friend Christian Sloat to be his partner. They didn’t get out of the first round as the sailing balloon never even reached outstretched hands. The next event for kids was the crucial “Water Bucket Fill” for 5 year olds. With the amount of instruction they received from the event organizers I was expecting each one of their young listeners to be able to land a Boeing 747 when all was said and done. Each team of 4 kids had to transfer several gallons of water from one 5 gallon paint bucket to another, using only plastic drinking cups perched upon their heads.

 Brad was a little bit TOO deliberate when the frenzy started, sacrificing much needed speed for accuracy. Our losing proclivities are starting to surface again until the “Water Bucket Fill” for 3 year olds commences! They tried to split Ben and Gabe up and put them on two different teams but our boys with have none of it. Gabe gave the man an icy stare and stayed with his brother and kindred spirit, necessitating bouncing some other kid over to Team # 2.

The rules were relaxed a touch for the younger contestants: they were allowed to carry their cups by their sides rather than upon their noggins. They gave the signal to begin and PANDEMONIUM  broke loose. Our family’s intense interest in hydrodynamics scored a big win for us - the first of the day (and a lifetime!) for the little boys!

It’s hard to believe that despite the roundness of many Morbecks we’ve never entered any eating competitions before. Not until now, that is. We hurriedly summoned Brad to a long tarpaulin laid out on the grass in the left field area of the “Triangle” where numerous small “Table Talk” pies were unboxed and lined up. Our first Pie Eating Contest! He dutifully put his hands behind his back and began to eat “kitty style”, in our parlance. He mistakenly raised his hand in error once or twice, thinking that this would signal a successful bite rather than a successful finish. His mother informed that this one event she was quite pleased that he didn’t win.

Now that all of the “8 year old and below” games were done the entire cadre of townspeople children gathered for the exciting and delicious “Peanut Scramble”. Little folks are all issued small paper lunch bags as an entire gunny sack of peanuts is precipitated upon them, thrown from the top of a familiar piece of playground equipment. For some procedural reason the woman in charge was told to stall for time. As everyone waited she asked the assembled masses, “What day is today?”

“Wednesday!” One kid answered.

“Yes, but whose BIRTHDAY is it?”]

“Aunt Nora’s!” Rutledge’s fastest five year old answered succinctly. I guess the right answer is “Aunt Nora AND Uncle Sam”.

The blessed legumes finally descended, and everyone ended up filling their bags with a mixture of tasty peanuts and wood chips.

While we were all totally absorbed in scrambling for peanuts a momentous event was occurring 50 yards to the North of us. Members of the Rutledge Volunteer Fire Department were pounding a nozzle type device into the ground with large steel spikes. Gigantic lengths of heavy fire hose were uncurled and stretched all the way to a waiting fire hydrant on Waverly Terrace. A large nut on the hydrant was turned and WHOOSHHH! Free showers for everyone! All three of our boys got very, very wet cavorting about the Rutledge Niagara.

Five (Three) O’clock Lightning- The 1927 Yankees of Heinrich, Meusal, Gehrig, and Ruth were known collectively as “Murderers Row”. All professional games were played in the afternoon back then and the club became famous for making great late afternoon comebacks. Our triumph over adversity came a bit earlier in the afternoon but was still incredibly heroic. Bob Sokoloff and I entered the adult “Egg Toss” and virtually humiliated the entire community with our egg tossing prowess. Out of dozens of eggs handed out to the assemblage only the brilliant alabaster orb issued to our superior egg tossing task force remained unbroken and unblemished.

VICTORY IS OURS!

 And this time a real prize was attached - Coupons for FOUR(!) large pizzas from Morton Pizza, redeemable at our leisure!

        Our leisure” came a week later on Tuesday night. A planned pool party with the Sokoloffs to gobble up the flat circular blessings of triumph was hastily relocated to our house due to inclement weather. We agreed together that until some unthinkable point in time that our egg tossing skills might deteriorate, “We’ll never Starve!”

Epilogue (as they say in the "Revenge of the Mafia" and those old Quinn-Martin shows)

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