Jim was a "roach coach" driver.  Dozens of those trucks roamed around Fort Leonard Wood training areas, selling sodas and candy and hot dogs and burritos and a large variety of snacks to the trainees while they were on their breaks.  Jim was a regular at the training area designated TA-190 where we spent a lot of time teaching new Army drivers how to steer in rough terrain and shift gears and other things they needed to know about the Army's different vehicles.  I personally enjoyed the beef and bean burritos and an occasional chili-cheese dog he sold. 

Jim was a Missouri boy, built like an awful lot of mid-American boys, farmer thick:  thick arms, thick legs, thick body.  Not really fat, but no where near thin.  He was blond and jovial and had a goatee and usually wore cut-off cargo pants and a tank-top until the winter was in full swing, then he would put on a coat...with his cut-offs. 

We (the instructors on my team and I) got to know him pretty well.  During one conversation about our softball team (I played slow-pitch softball until age 40 or so), Jim mentioned he played in a tri-county softball league and suggested we have a friendly game between us (the Motor Transport Operators Course instructors) and his boys.  We set a date and place and immediately began the obligatory pre-game trash talking until the Saturday arrived. 

There was a series of articles on Blogster recently about bad decisions.  The decision to play ball with Jim's "boys" ranks among one of the worst decisions ever...for a fella's ego.

We showed up at the ballpark in Waynesville.  As we unloaded our duffelbags full of gear  (bats, balls, gloves, catcher's mask, etc), my buddy Ricky tapped me on the shoulder and whispered that I should look over at the other team.  I stared.  Every member of Jim's team was a carbon copy of Jim.  Thick.  Country thick.  Except that Jim was the smallest guy on the team...by a very measurable amount.  They were friendly and happy,  manglinges our hands in crushing handshakes and bruising our shoulders and backs with exuberant back-slaps.  Everyone a genuine corn-fed, farm-raised, ham-fisted, country boy.

They gave us visitor status and took the field.  We established our line up and sent our first man to bat.  We wanted to get off to an impressive start so we loaded our line-up with our two best hitters batting first and second.  Their pitcher had a wicked back-spinning, high-arching pitch that we didn't figure out right away.  Our first batter swung at the first pitch and I swear that ball should have gone into orbit.  But it didn't go very far into the field,  and when it finally came down, their second baseman caught it easily.  The second batter wasn't much different.  Our Team captain told the third batter to keep it on the ground.  You wouldn't believe how fast that shortstop moved.  Not only did he snag that lava-hot grounder, his throw to first base was like a cannon shot.  Three up - three down. 

Their batting order didn't matter much...everyone of them was a power-hitter which they proved by launching five or six homers in a row over the fences.  Sigh.  That is pretty much how the day went;  it was embarassing, to say the least.  They didn't make many mistakes and it was only after they had consumed a couple of six-packs apiece that the game became more competitive.   Both sides agreed it was a fun day and really didn't need a re-match.  Later Ricky told me he had it figured out...he said they hit homers so they wouldn't have to run.

The above story has a lot to do with the fact that I wasn't really too sympathetic about the following story.

One day while we were at TA-190 we got a visit from some staffers from post headquarters.  They told us that the St Louis Football Cardinals  had several groups of football players going around the training areas making "morale" visits to the trainees.  Shortly after the staffers left, Jim showed up with his roach coach.  We told him some Cards were on their way and he acted like a kid at Christmas...he was a huge Cardinal fan. 

We didn't have to wait too long.  A convoy of sedans pulled into the training area and four huge footballers accompanied by a dozen staffers, photographers, strap-hangers, and horse-holders poured out of the cars and started walking towards us.  I sent the word out to bring in the trainees so they could meet the players while the visitors introduced everyone.  I wish I could remember who the players were;  two were rookies I had never heard of, one was a mid-level player who was vaguely familiar to me, and the forth was a big-time hero who had been around for a while...a guy everyone knew...but the name escapes me nowdays.

Jim was bouncing around these guys like a puppy.  He told them they were welcome to anything on the truck...his treat.  One of the rookies cut a beeline for the truck and zeroed in on the chili-cheese dogs, thanking Jim on the way and telling us that he was starved and hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast (it was about 9:30 am at the time).  He grabbed, unwrapped, bit a dog in half, and was reaching for another with his other hand before you could describe it.  The other rookie proclaimed that they looked really good and had a couple downed in short order.  Jim was happy to get them both a big soda from the other side of the truck to wash the dogs down.  When he got back to the other side with the drinks, all the staffers and the rest of the party were going through the truck like locusts.  The first rookie asked through a mouth full of chili-cheese dog if there were any more of them dogs...and in mere seconds, all the dogs, burritos, hot sandwiches, and tamales were about gone and the candy was fast disappearing.  To his credit, Jim's smile never left his face, albeit he a little less enthusiastic than at first, as he watched his stock dwindle. 

I knew that when he had first tendered the offer, he meant it to be just the football players...at least he never considered that the rest of the party would jump in.  That is why my instructors and I refrained from joining in on the junk food orgy.  When everyone left and the trainees went back to training and the dust and excitement of the visit settled down, Jim did a quick inventory on what was left on his truck.  There wasn't much there. He came into our shed and had a seat with us.  He bought Manny (my number-two guy) and me a soda and handed me a beef and bean burrito he had held back for me...I was surprized...and a little guilty for not feeling sorrier for him...but those beef and bean burritos were goooooood.