Senior Year, Christ I'm Old

from Memory Lane:

- Celester Gresham. Celester was about 5’7”, 250 pounds, and I’m pretty sure he invented the jerri-curl. I knew Celester from Day 1 in kindergarten, all the way through. GREAT hitter. Rotten fielder; with his weight the DH was made for him. I remember one game he’s hitting, and he keeps fouling off pitch after pitch. I mean, musta been 20 pinches. Finally from the bleachers came the extremely Southern, extremely drawled-out voice of Mr. Chinn “hey Chubbsy-Wubbsy, the sun’s going down!” Chubbsy Wubbsy! Arkived. Dude could roll outta bed, get a hit. I remember a game against King William, we’re tied up in the last inning and I’m on 2nd base, Celester at the plate. Two outs. Dude gets two strikes on him, it’s all pressure, crowd is hushed. He steps out of the box, looks down at me and hollers for all to hear “don’t worry Gregory, you’re coming home on this pitch.” Then I got picked off. No no no... dude slaps the game-winning rbi on the next pitch. Straight outta the damn movies. Funny thing bout Celester was that here he was a black kid, and he was the biggest metal fan I knew. Would stroll through class every day in his acid-washed jean jacket with “La Guns” and “Bullet Boys” patches. He was telling us all about an up-and-coming band called Guns and Roses while the rest of us were still pissing our Duran Duran bed sheets. Celester was killed in a car crash a few days before our senior year. Will always miss him; Celester is one of those people you cant be sad about, whenever you think of him you think of something funny he said or did and just start laughing. Awesome.