On Thursday October
16th, 1969 at approximately 2:15 pm, O’Malley was feeling pressure from the
extra half glass of milk he drank at lunch and dutifully raised his hand to use
the lavatory. After a slight shake of her head, Mrs, Hurley, his fourth grade teacher
excused him.
As he stepped up to
the urinal closest to the door in the basement lavatory O’Malley was surrounded
by a group of older boys leaning against the walls and sitting on the edges of
the sinks. In the center of them was a kid named Knox. He had shoulder
length hair, or goddamn hippie hair, as O’Malley’s father would say and
he was holding a transistor radio, listening along with the other boys to game
five of the World Series between the New York Mets and the Baltimore Orioles.
It was Jerry Koosman on the mound for the improbable and ready to clinch Mets
vs. Dave McNally of the Orioles.
After he finished his
business at the urinal and was washing his hands, Knox, asked O’Malley, “You
like baseball kid?”
“Yes,” O’Malley replied
skittishly and turned to leave.
“Hold it,” the
imposing eighth grader commanded. “Thought you said you liked baseball. Where
ya going?”
“Back to class,”
O’Malley said looking in the direction of his classroom at the end of the hall.
Knox walked over put
his hand on O’Malley’s shoulder and said, “You’re probably doing some social
studies/ history bullshit this time of day—right?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, well, the Mets
are making history right now and George Washington will be just as dead
tomorrow as he is today. Sit down and listen to the game,” and he nodded toward
the little platform that led to the urinals.