Jimmy Potter and I were walking across the parking lot about three blocks from school.
I saw Tim walking toward me. The previous summer, he was the opposing pitcher in the last Little League game I ever played in. We beat State Bank 5-1 to win the league (against them) for the second straight year. I had a good game, pitching a one-hitter and going 4 for 4.
He was a year younger than me in school. I didn’t know him, just knew who he was. Probably spoke to him a few times, it was a small town.
He walked up and without warning or a word, punched me in the stomach and (while I gasped for breath) kept walking into the open field on the other end of the parking lot.
I’ve never figured that one out.
