We had just finished supper when the phone rang. Only a few hours before, I had been playing football on the sandlot team that my brother Mark had formed after I had hounded him to do so.
That team was my only hope of playing in 1965, since I was still too young for Washington Elementary School’s football team. Eric was even younger than I was.
Mark was the perfect coach for our team. After all, he played football for the mighty Bulldogs of Altus High. He coached us up and even scheduled a game with another team that one of his football buddies had formed.