THE BACKWARD BOY

A posting on Facebook stirred my grey cells again.   My Junior High gym teacher as they were called in 1958 had passed away.  

And then I was back in Millville…

My mother just opened a very “official” letter which I saw was from the “Millville Board of Education”.  It was still August and school was very much far away from my mind – this letter put it right in front of me. 

After she read it twice she looks at me with her “serious” look on.  “Calvin this letter requires me to buy one of those things for you so you can take gym. You must have one to take gym class in Jr. High.”

One of those things?  I couldn’t fathom what she was referring to?

 

I had new high top black Keds, new and saved for that first class.  Mom bought me a Millville orange and blue gym bag from Garton’s Sport Center and put them in with a pair of white wool socks and the require orange and blue trunks she bought there too.  And she added a new white T-shirt I had gotten for Christmas from Aunt Martha, but never worn.

I thought I was all set – but now I needed “one of those things.”

On Saturday after mom did her usual tour of High Street bringing her collected money for the “shoe club” she ran at the factory and a couple of other stops where she paid a merchant for something she had bought “on the cuff” as she said.  We headed to Bob Garton’s combination sporting goods and toy store for this mystery item.  My mom marched to the rear of the store where Mr. Garton usually sat next to his massive cash register. 

“Hi Marge,” he said.   My mother, dispensing with the usual pleasantries jumped to the chase.  As her cheeks flushed she whispered, “Bob, Calvin needs one of those things for gym class which is prescribed by the school.”

I could see that Mr. Garton wasn’t all that comfortable talking about this item either.  He cleared his throat.  Looked a bit sheepish at me then back to mom.

“Right, of course…we have some over here in the back corner.”

We followed him to the deepest recesses of his kid emporium to a shelf of small boxes.  I was finally going to know what “one of those things” was.

Mr. Garton then asked mom, “What size is he?”

Now mom really blushed.  “Bob how would I know”? she blurted.

“His waist Margaret, his waist size”, he responded in a low whisper.

She told him and he put the small box in a paper bag.  She paid $2.95 for the item and with a very hot face on she ushered me out of the store before I even had a chance to peruse the toy aisles.

I still had no idea what mom just purchased for me?

When we got home, mom handed me the mystery parcel and said, “I guess you should go in your bedroom and try this own – in case it doesn’t fit?”

Wow I thought this is indeed a mysterious thing – but it must be important to merit an official letter and embarrassed adults just to buy it.  In the confines of my bedroom I examined the package.  The box the item came in displayed only the statement “Spalding Athletic Supporter – Size Medium”.  Until that day I thought an "athletic supporter" was a football fan.

I removed the it and found it to be a a “Jock”.  Every guy talked about getting one of these – it was a rite of passage, but I had never actually had one to try on.

 

I was very excited to it as I stepped out of my jeans and pulled it up over my jockey shorts – and for the first time getting the meaning of the label of my undershorts.

It fit – I think?  And it felt very “supportive” - even over my shorts.

But the hardest hurdle just occurred to me.  I was going to have to don this rig in front of all the guys in my gym class – now I blushed for the first time.

The dreaded day arrive far too soon.  Mr. S. (with silver whistle on a lanyard around his neck which he even slept with per rumor) barked his orders before we got started with our first of three days per week of groans, moans and sweat.  

“Listen up here’s the deal – and for both you boys and girls.  Everyone is required to take a shower after gym class – got it, no ands, ifs or buts.” (Yikes I thought = this is going to be even more embarrassing then I had imagined).  

“Yes, even you girls!”  Later one of my gal friends would reveal that the girl’s locker room had four private showers with curtains and I informed her that boys had one open shower with no privacy at all.  Which seemed to be the way of the world for most things in my later life.

Mr. S. dismissed the girls to get ready so he could talk to us guy in private.  “Gentleman, and I use that term loosely, (ha-ha) …it is absolutely necessary that you wear your athletic supporter during every class.  This is a rule for you own protection and the well-being of your future children (ripple of laughter ensues) – Cut that out this is serious gentlemen.  

Do you read me?”

“YES SIR!”, we shouted in unison just like a bunch of recruits at Fort Dix.  

And then we rumbled into the locker room with our trusty gym bags and W.T. Grant special combination locks at the ready.  The chatter as we undressed was obviously from very nervous guys.  Some of the “bigger” guys stripped down as if this was an ordinary activity, oblivious to the “little” guys watching them for a cue about how to be cool with this rite of passage.

Most of the shy ones had installed their “jocks” over their underwear – for modesty sake.  Years later most of these guys would be parading around naked in college hallways without giving it a thought.  But for seventh graders on this first day – most of us were very cautious about exposing our goods to comparison – which all men do their entire lives, no matter how much they deny they do it.

Then the entire locker room quieted.  

A humid stillness permeated the atmosphere that smell vaguely of cheese mixed with Lysol.  All eyes had turned to Alden.  The poor guy had pulled up his new (x-tra small) Spalding supporter over his very large plaid boxers – and had it on with the pouch on his butt!

Then it happened.  

One small giggle led to another and another until a chorus of 30+ guys rang the rafters of the old gymnasium.  And no one could stop laughing.  

Mr. S. dashed into the locker room to find out what was causing this ruckus – he spotted Alden standing there with staring down at his misaligned gear with a very confused look – now teacher and student had red faces beaming. 

Mr. S immediately order us out of the room – except Alden who he kept for a much need lesson in the proper application of the required protective gear. 

Decades later at school reunions Alden was always introduced as “the backward boy of Bacon School” 

Some things we just never live down...and never forget.