Hill Country Sports

Mr. Hazlett, Chelsea High School's young, handsome, eager new U.S. history teacher was also quite the athlete.  Having played sports all through high school himself, as well as during college at St. Anselm, Dad was on the look-out for inspiring young athletes.  As rural, farm country would have it, he learned pretty quickly that Chelsea offered little in the way of sports for kids and certainly had no coaches to inspire the young lot of lads.

Dad took it upon himself to work with the inexperienced high school basketball team, a crew of boys resembling the likes of the Bad News Bears clad in overalls, plaid shirts and muddy boots.  At the risk of stereotyping these country boys, this is the image that comes to mind when I think of the team Dad described to me.

On Saturday mornings, Dad set-up a basketball clinic of sorts for kids in grades 4 - 6, and sometimes the 7th and 8th graders too.  He taught them the basics of basketball and they built a foundation of knowledge and skills to draw upon when they got to high school.  Slowly but surely the boys gained more experience and finesse, and a basketball team was born.

A favorite story of ours growing up was the one Dad told about the time Gramps (Dad's dad) and Nana (Dad's mom) made the trek from Walpole to Chelsea to see his team play.  Curiously enough John and Josie brought Mom along for the ride with them which must have been quite something in those pre-nuptial days.  Riding North with one's future in-laws to the hills of Vermont.... fabulous!

At any rate, Gramps had never before stepped foot in a place like Chelsea, Vermont and the experience seems to have left him questioning his son's judgment.  Now, Gramps was a long-time athlete himself and enjoyed a good game like no other.  He wanted to see how Dad's team was coming along.  During this particular game, as the story goes, a fight broke out between one player on Dad's team (Steve Johnson as Dad recalls), and another player from the other team.  As things escalated, the visiting coach approached Dad and began shouting at him and pushing him around  -  as only sportsmanlike coaches do.  Well, Gramps was having absolutely NONE of that.  In a valiant effort to save his son, he flew out of the stands, grabbed the coach and secured him in a bear hug.  Let's just say the crowd grew quiet, the coach quickly settled down (Gramps was a LARGE man), and Dad was safe once more from the ravages of small-town ruffians.

Dad recalls local folks asking him after the game just who the man was who had leapt from the stands to free him from the assault.  I can only imagine that Dad felt a wee bit dismayed by the public scene, but also quite likely humored and grateful for Gramps' protective display.  In the end, everyone recovered, though Gramps is quoted to say, "Why the hell are you teaching and coaching up here?".  The weekend proceeded without incident and the visitors, Dad's future bride in tow, returned home to the harmony of suburban living.

And so, this young,  handsome, eager new U.S. history teacher and coach resumed his country living along the rolling hills of the Vermont countryside.  The team continued to improve, and since basketball is alive and well in Chelsea today, I credit Dad for getting the ball rolling...

Concluding side note:  
Dad reports that  he paid $1.00 a day for his one-room apartment in the center of town.  Now that was an affordable housing deal like no other, or so the story goes.