Rat, Not Horse

Remember that game we all played as kids, and maybe still do? The one where you take a basketball, make a shot, and the next player has to make the same shot or  get a letter.  It seems the general consensus is that the name of that game is HORSE.  When a player spells the word HORSE, they are out of the game.  When I hear the game HORSE talked about on TV or elsewhere, I smirk to myself.

In Slatington, that game was RAT! We didn’t have time to wait for someone to miss enough shots to spell a five letter word. We had other things to do!  Maybe, actually,  it was a lack of patience or boredom.  We played RAT on the Lincoln Elementary playground. There was one basket there, that if you made a really bad shot the ball would go bouncing down the hill of Chestnut Alley all the way down to Kuntz Avenue or even beyond to Main Street.

This got me thinking of other childhood games we played. Two stand out for me.  The first is Strikeout. Boxes were painted on the brick wall of Lincoln Elementary representing a strike zone. There was a batter and a pitcher. Sometimes there was an outfielder, usually not.  The idea, of course, was to strike each other out. But we did get hits. There were no bases, except in your mind. Past the pitcher was a single. A double would hit the playground border wall. A triple would be if the ball landed on a slope bordering school property. A home run would land in the yard of the meanest lady on the planet. The meanest lady who probably also had the biggest collection of rubber balls in the Lehigh Valley!

The other memorable game we played was called Detective. A group of kids, for me it was the Dowell Street, North Street, and Willow Avenue gang, would get together and draw cards without sharing what card you got.  One card was an ace. He was the killer. Another card was the King. He was the detective. The other cards drawn were innocent bystanders. This is a game that was always played in the dark. We would spread out in a four block area and the innocent bystanders would run and hide. The killer would go out seeking someone to murder. The King just wandered about trying to find out who the killer was.  I’m not sure how the game ended.  I can’t imagine anyone screaming out “Help, I’ve been shot!” even in ’60s Slatington.  Maybe one of my Slatington readers can help here.

That’s enough about fun and games……except tonight I am going to see my very first Roller Derby.  I can’t wait! It could lead to an interesting blog post.

Stay cool this weekend!  May A/C and water be your friends.