Jim Davidson
Editor’s Note: Little League baseball provides many kids with an introduction to team sports and opportunities for growth. For other kids, Little League could be a continuing nightmare of failures. Many thanks to Anne-Marie Davidson for sending her dad’s memoir about meeting Gary Byrd in Little League.
I first met Gary Byrd when we were eleven. Although we were the same age, I was much larger
and umpired some of his American Legion games, not that I wanted to. Gary played for the LaCharles Braves, a neighborhood team from Sunnyside Elementary that had once been sponsored by a barbershop owned by someone named Charles. Sometime in the remote past, the barbershop and Charles had ceased operations.
The LaCharles Braves still wore their original uniforms – too small and now much smaller because the uniforms had shrunk but the kids had not. Gary and his mates endured the unkind words of their opponents’ bench jockeys who frequently wondered aloud just what was so deep around their bench that they needed such high socks. Their levity was further increased by the fact that the Braves were not only last in uniforms, they were also last in the sixth and last division of the Texas League. They were, in short, the worst team in the worst division in the 11-12 years old
age group. To prove it, they played games that were usually called after three innings due to the ten run lead rule but lasted two hours anyway and had scores like 23-4. This was the main reason none of us wanted to umpire for their games.
One fine sunny day when it was about 100 degrees en route to 112, I drew the short straw and had to umpire the titanic battle between the Oston Tigers and the Braves of LaCharles. Gary Byrd was as nondescript as any other Brave. He was probably a little small for his age; wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses; and unable to hit or throw very well. In short, aside from the glasses and the fact he was left-handed, he was just like all the other Braves. Right, Jim Davidson at age 13
Anyway, I was umpiring the bases. The score was 23-4 or something approximating that. The game had been going on for over an hour, and we were still in the second inning. Gary was playing first base when he turned around to me and said, “We’re really pathetic, aren’t we?”
I laughed and said the umpire was not supposed to make such judgments. Gary said I didn’t need to, the Braves could speak for themselves. And I knew that even if he couldn’t play baseball, he was my kind of guy.
