May atmore 2020

ECHS Basketball
Curtis
Parker
Thanks to Rodney Powell for the old picture of the
basketball team. It triggered some memories. That
must have been the first team at Escambia County
High School, after a long period of not having one.
The probable reason was that they couldn't afford to
pay a coach, same as it was when Herbert Barnes
taught agriculture and doubled as the football coach,
for free.
Mr. “Hodo” Hunter was a history teacher and assisted
in coaching all sports. But he was more famous (to me)
for lecturing to his class with a cigarette hanging from
his bottom lip until it was burned up, without taking a
puff.
Mr. Moon taught Civics and coached also.
Mr. Penny came along later as a math teacher and
took over the basketball coaching job. He also doubled
as the bus driver - much to the fright of everyone. We
often heard the horn of an approaching car, warning
Mr. Penny to get back on his side of the road. Then there
was the problem with the headlights going off suddenly
due to an over-heated fuse. If my Dad had not told me
how to remedy that problem with a piece of copper
tubing, we might have become part of a sad history.
Being from a trucking family, the sound of grinding
gears always made my skin crawl - and Coach Penny
was no double clutcher.
I had been drafted, about that time, to the basketball
manager job, but it was not to keep up with the basketballs
(we only had four). More likely, it was to stoke the
coal-fired stove that provided the hot water for showers.
Blue Devil teams in those days featured such stalwart
players as “Buddy” Tennant who was taller than everyone
but had to wear a harness to keep from raising his
right arm over his head and throwing out his bad
shoulder.
We also had the Hadley twins, affectionately called
“Little Boy” and “Big Boy,” but most of us couldn't tell
who was “Big” and who was “Little.” Sixty years later,
I still couldn't tell the difference.
Our star player was “Hoe-handle” Akins, who had to
be driven home to Booneville after the games. Twelve
miles of dirt road (but that's another story).
Then there was “Hog-eye” Hendrix who got furious
when hit by a blind-side pass. Although it was obvious,
he made sure that everyone knew which eye was glass.
“Dobbin” was the nickname for Robin White.
Everyone was called by their nickname. One center
was called “Icabod,” because he looked like a character
pictured in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” from our
English text.
The other center was called “Bubba Bean,” after a
character in the Lil Abner comic strip. I can almost hear
the players screaming for a pass, “Big”—“Little”—“Hog”—
“Hoe”—“Bean”—and “Icabod.” Those nicknames never
left them.
Those Atmore teams never amassed any win-loss
records to brag about, but the other teams must have
dreaded seeing them take the court.
Dedication was certainly required to play basketball
in those days. You really had to be dedicated to remove
and stack 200 folding chairs from the auditorium (study
hall) floor every afternoon, and set them back up after
practice. It took teamwork.
For the games, there was barely enough room to
squeeze in four rows of those folding chairs on each
side of the court. Anyone brave enough to sit in the
front row had better be prepared to have their feet
stomped or for a sweaty body to come crashing, now
and again.
The big coal heaters in opposite corners of the
auditorium were too dangerous for use during basketball
games. But, with so many people jammed into the
room, like sardines, no heat was needed. A few of the
huge windows were opened and students flowed freely
in and out. Players were always crashing into the solid
wall only a few feet behind one goal, and the stage was
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