Friday, November 15, 2013

Playing in Terhune

Yesterday I discovered a "fan letter" that I had, evidently, overlooked.  It was written by a woman of some adoring qualities who, apparently, liked what I wrote and how I wrote it.  In particular, she wrote to tell me she enjoyed my humor.

Now, there happen to be a lot of women who tell me they enjoy my humor (which is to say, "I think you look funny" or "you smell like humus" or "are your ears supposed to stick out that much and produce that much wax?").  But when the woman signed her letter she also included a return address at the bottom, and I happened to notice that she lived in Terhune, Indiana.

Terhune?  So there really is such a place?!

The Terhune I happen to know comes from the movie, Hoosiers.  And one of the lines I recall from the movie went something like this:

"Hell, if Jimmy jumps ship and goes over to play for Terhune, we're screwed!"  (Hence, the PG rating.)

Terhune was also the school that Hickory beat in the sectional tournament--the one game where all the players on the opposing team appeared to be in their mid-twenties, with lots of facial hair and a snide attitude.  But they were, after all, from Terhune, reigning sectional champs, and they knew they were hot stuff with their fancy uniforms and their dolled-up cheerleaders, all of whom were probably hookers.  That's the Terhune I remember.

But I mean no disrespect.  I am, after all, from a small town myself.  A town that had a main street comprised of four stores and a primary industry that featured a salt-packing plant.  I come from Terhune stock, shooting hoops in the backyard for twelve hours a day or until my fingers bled.  With my background, I know how devastating it would have been to have seen Jimmy go over to Terhune.  I would have felt screwed, too.

I want to thank my fan from Terhune.  It's good to know that my junk plays in small town America and that there are readers out there who weep for Jimmy, just like me, and feel that they are getting screwed by the neighboring town. 

But let me tell you, this fella will never go over to Terhune.  He'll continue writing on his home court.  After all, no town this small has ever made it this far.  Which ain't sayin' much.

But he is grateful for the chance to play.  Just call me Ollie. 

1 comment:

Aaron Helman said...

"...their dolled-up cheerleaders, all of whom were probably hookers."

I'm not sure if this is a compliment or not, but this is probably the finest line you've ever written.