CROSSVILLE CHRONICLE

Opinion

 

David Spates
"Therefore I Am"

Henry Hitchcock was the king of Butts Up

A word of advice: If you ever find yourself in the fourth grade in the late 1970s, don't play Butts Up with Henry Hitchcock.

As I look at that sentence, I realize that it may require further explanation. You see, when I was a kid attending Cedar Bluff Intermediate School, Butts Up was the game to play during recess. (As I matured, however, I am forced to admit that we should have come up with a better name for our game.) Anyway, in 1979 Butts Up was the game, and Henry Hitchcock was the champ.

The rules of Butts Up are very simple. All you need is a hard rubber ball and a bunch of boys with no fear, for the object of Butts Up is punishment ­ brutal, barbarous, cruel punishment. You also need a good ball-bouncing wall, one big enough that a 9-year-old can throw a ball from 40 feet away and hit it.

The game is started when the champ ­ Henry Hitchcock, in the case of CBIS ­ throws the ball against the wall. The pack of boys then battle to catch and hold onto the ball. If a boy touches the ball but fails to hold, control and then throw it back to the wall, he must run to the wall and touch it. During his run, he is the target. Whoever has the ball must then throw it at the boy before he reaches the wall. If the boy running to the wall is hit before he reaches it, it's Butts Up time!

And that's when the punishment starts.
Butts Up time can be a gruesome time. The boy who was hit before reaching the wall must now stand facing the wall with his backside to the ravenous pack of boys. The kid who hit the slow-stepping boy now is entitled the throw the ball as hard as he possibly can at the other boy as he stands defenseless against the wall.

The wounds would last for days. You could never draw blood - it was just a hard rubber ball after all ­ but a young boy with a strong arm could leave a good, deep bruise, and there's nothing that instills more pride in a 9-year-old boy than to leave his mark on a fellow Butts Up player.

That's the game, and Henry Hitchcock was the best. He was the master, a true Butts Up artist. Henry would always be in the right place at the right time to scoop up dropped balls and drill the buttery-fingered kid before he reached the wall. He had speed. He had great hands. And he never missed an opportunity to leave a ball-sized welt on some hapless kid's rear end or leg.

But what really made Henry Hitchcock the king of CBIS Butts Up was his trademark ricochet punishment shot. You see, if you made Henry Hitchcock mad before or during the game and he had a chance to give you a punishment shot, he would often attempt to bounce the ball off the ground, then off the wall and hit the boy in the front ­ just below the belt, if you catch my meaning. I've seen it happen, and believe me, those are not pleasant memories.

I always tried to stay on Henry Hitchcock's good side, and I made sure I never dropped the ball if he was within a 10-foot radius.

Had a boy known he was about to receive a dreaded Henry Hitchcock frontal Butts Up punishment shot, I'm sure he would have requested a cigarette and blindfold.

I never endured a punishment shot like that from Henry Hitchcock, and for that I am eternally grateful. I fear that I would still be suffering the effects if I had, either physically or possibly in the form of some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder.

The memory of Henry Hitchcock and Butts Up was reawakened recently when I was bouncing a hard rubber ball, the kind we used for our games. I wonder what Henry Hitchcock is doing right now. He's probably a lawyer or an investment banker or maybe even a diplomat, for all I know. For me, however, that lawyer, banker, diplomat or whatever will always be the king of CBIS Butts Up. He ruled the playground in 1979 with fear and fairness, and what more can you ask of a champion?

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