BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING (A LEGACY STORY)

In life we tend to "outgrow" our siblings and search for friends and colleagues as we spread our wings and move on in to professions and jobs. It's okay and it's even probably a healthy sign of maturity. What ever our motivation to move on outside of that family circle, it's part of the evolutionary process called life.

My husband had two brothers. As he entered his senior year of High School, his big brother was in college and living away from home. Like most siblings they were from a family where you might not "run" with your sibling, you might even pound or pummel him occasionally if he needed it, but no one else better touch them or they answer to you.

This was never so apparent as when my husband was playing basketball for his high school and went to play an away game near the college where his older brother was. No longer playing sports his older brother and his room mate, also from the same hometown, determined it might be worthwhile to go see the home team play. The hometown was smaller and the underdog and it should be a good game.

From the git go, I have it on great authority it was "dirty ball". My very serious and straight laced brotherinlaw is not given to exaggeration so, for once, I should have no challenges as to the accuracy of this particular Legacy Story. He definitely remembers the occasion as does my husband. (Figures he'd remember a sports story but not some of the great stories of our courtship romance.)

The Big Brother and his room mate arrived at the game early picking a seat well up into the bleachers. The two college students weren't the kind to tolerate fools blocking their views by standing up and getting in the way so, they went high enough not to be bothered by the "front row crowd". Climbing had been an effort for the Big Brother wasn't yet recovered from a recent hernia surgery. The younger brother arrived and joined them in the stands. The three got ready to watch some serious ball.

It was a packed house, as was the tradition for any given game in Oklahoma. Small high school or not, you supported your team. Being a fan was almost a pledge to a blood sport, and this night it would become literal.

My Husband's team was made up mostly of farm boys and outdoor kind of guys. No sissy players on that team. And due to having few players everyone had to play and not get injured. There was no question you had to give a minimum of a hundred percent to keep the team alive. The same went for the hometown fans. They weren't near as plentiful but if grit and commitment meant anything, it was the stronger fan base.

From the first whistle when the players took the floor there was an evident trend of foul play developing and it wasn't even being masked. The opposing team was playing dirty and the concern was that the referees weren't calling them on it. The Hometown team continued to play tough Oklahoma ball but,were still playing fair. That would come to an end for the sake of survival if nothing else.

By the time the game was in the fourth quarter The Hometown team was ahead but, not by much. They had begun to return the punishing elbows and the bruising collisions matching the opposing team blow for blow. It became a game of power and punishment and not a player on the court had been spared.

I am told my husband was one heck of a player. One of my favorite pictures of him from high school was of him flying through the air with the ball in his hands, headed for the basket. Of course for me, I look at the picture taking time to assess the tight satin short shorts he was wearing. And, in light of all the modern day scandals, I note the bulked up muscles that never knew steroids but certainly defined one powerful and beautiful male body.

In the fourth quarter of this punishing game, my husband got the ball again and was doggedly headed down the court. He was picking up speed when suddenly the ball went airborne having been stolen by the other team. He turned to quickly retrieve it and gave his greatest push of the night to speed down court. Suddenly, it was he that went airborne and not of his volition. He had been deliberately tripped. Landing on the hard slick surface of the court, his exposed skin seared into the floor .

I am sure it was pain, fatigue and just plain Oklahoma pissed off attitude that brought him up from that floor with a new strategy in mind. He admits his very private thought at that moment was, "Okay you bastards, let's see if you know how to play football". Yes, I said football.

The rage that had built up from the first whistle propelled him . He literally dropped down to his football stance. With everything inside of him he drove himself toward the player he believed had offended him and now had the ball. The offending player received the brunt of my husband's powerful shoulder and it sent the player sprawling along the floor.

The crowd erupted. The Superintendent of Schools for the opposing team ran on to the court. There was a momentary lull as the crowd tried to hear him say something to the upstart ball player. My husband had just laid out one of their own and yet the Superintendent was ignoring the culpability of his team's involvement.The fact the blow was in retribution for the three quarters of unprecedented battering and pounding they had laid on the Home team seemed to escape him.

As for the Big Brother he had seen this moment coming from his perspective high above the court. He had seen that deliberate trip cause his brother injury and he knew his brother well. A Grubbs will take just so much then he'll take control.

Seeing fans from the opposing team moving toward the chaotic court he quickly got to his feet. The Big Brother had anticipated his brother would "go for it now" and he wanted to be sure someone was covering his brother's back. Not waiting for the younger brother or room mate, he forgot his personal surgical pain and made quick strides down the bleachers and on to the court.The Home team crowd was outnumbered and he knew the blow wasn't going unanswered by the fans of the opposing team.

He was on the court and almost to my husband when he saw the Superintendent on the court. His thought was "No one touches my brother" but sure enough someone did. At that moment the Superintendent grabbed my husband in a manner that was not restrained or professional. The bleachers on both sides continued to clear out and fans surrounded the scene taking place on the floor.There was shouting, pushing and shoving leaving my husband isolated from his team .

The Big Brother struggled to reach his brother before a blow was struck. He did manage to prevent the Superintendent from doing any real damage beyond grabbing the brother. Without hesitation, Big Brother took care of business. Family business.

My husband felt himself being wrestled from the Superintendent's grasp as he was being pulled and yanked forcefully away. At that moment he realized his Big Brother was sending the Superintendent of Schools sprawling onto the floor. One blow had done it. As it sunk in what his brother had done there was a momentary sense of relief and pride. Then, there ensued a melee'.

For my husband the rest was a blur. In his recounting to me of the incident, my brother-in-law indicates the crowd was fully "in to it". But, my husband's total focus and recall was based on one action. His brother defending him.

The game was an an end. There was enough anger to warrant a quick closing of the event and to get the team out of town as quickly as possible. But, that night would live on in infamy in the family folk stories and in the Hometown team lore. They might be a small community but , they were a united sports community and no one messed with their team. No one was going to be blamed or punished beyond that night for what had transpired. My husband, in the estimation of his team, coach and community, had done the "right and honorable thing.

The younger brother had seen just a hint of what he would face in the years that followed when he would play ball for the Home team. He would also remember that brothers stick together and they take care of each other no matter what. It doesn't matter who is the one in trouble, the others would be there for you in the drop of a hat. He would relearn that lesson at an Alumni dance in a few years, but that's another legacy story.

In the years ahead my husband would became a most dedicated teacher and coach. He developed great team discipline. He grew to be an outspoken critic of the damage of referees who will not fairly and adequately call the plays and games by the rules.

Long after retirement he would agonize as he watched his beloved Sooners get ripped off, yet again, by the almost blatant prejudice of some referees. Though they were later reprimanded and transferred , my husband pointed out the damage that had been done. The game score was not corrected thus, the standings were affected. The players didn't get their fair recognition for their outstanding plays, thus their stats were affected. Some would say, "it's just a ball game". In Oklahoma, there is no such thing as "just" a ball game.

Just like there is no such thing as "just a ball game", in my book there is no such thing as "just a story". For, I write legacy stories. And though you thought you were reading about a basketball story, it is so much more. It is also about the legacy given to the family by "The Big Brother" and typlified by his actions at the now infamous basketball game.

The Big Brother has continued to be there not only his brother but, for the whole family. In the big plays of life, his Big Brother has stepped in to fill his role as he understands it. He has been; the family humorist giving us many things to laugh about, by his correspondence and by his propensity to spoil our children with whip cream fights, candy and ice cream. He has driven on very long treks to track us down first in north west Kansas then Iowa and Wisconsin to participate and "watch over" us.

In these later years, he spear headed the care and oversaw the needs of his parents. All three brothers had different roles and all three made the efforts as a team led by the Big Brother. He has always offered his support to family members going through illnesses and acts to keep the very private brothers connected.

To me his special role has been as "The Family Patriarch" with his ability to see the over all picture of the family. Though he has no biological children of his own, he has involved himself in the lives. He has offered assistance and availed himself to give wise counsel to his nieces and nephews earning their respect.

To support the political candidacy of his nephew he went door to door delivering literature and made phone calls from the headquarters. Considering his private and shy ways, this was a "sacrificial" offering of help.

He is known as the "reunion spark plug" of the family. New unity in the family was realized when the "first generation" of family reunion efforts were initiated by him. There have now been reunions held in Wisconsin, Iowa, Kansas and Oklahoma creating a sense of oneness by the Grubbs side of the family.

The trickle down effect is that now his great nieces and nephews have now been the loving recipients of his continued practical jokes, teasing and his desire to be a part of their lives. He still looks out for his brothers caring for and loving them in his "manly Grubbs traditional Oklahoma way".

He has set a standard, a role model if you will, of pursuing your dreams with hard work and perseverance and not letting the challenges of childhood impede your efforts. Through the challenges of health problems, the role model of educational excellence by being the first in his family to complete college, and strong work ethics he has become an inspiration to all of our family members.

Once when my father in law was here to visit he watched our children playing and told me he was proud of my husband for creating a family that was loving and that he was proud of the good father my husband had become. He shared with me that he had learned that in life, it was about "the family". As I look at The Big Brother, I realize his father would have also been proud of him for "the family" he has helped keep in touch with their roots, and kept together. Sadly my fatherinlaw died before he could see the three sons success at staying in touch and loving and caring for each other.

Recently my brother-in-law spoke of the importance of letting each family member "have their own life and ways of looking at things".He spoke of needing to be there for them no matter what. We reflected on the differences of the three brothers and compared them to the differences of the nieces and nephews. He emphasized how, no matter what the choices were, learning to respect the boundaries of each individual was vastly important. He felt it should never affect your response to their needs and happiness. In some circles, that is called "unconditional love".

I believe the Big Brother's legacy is that he is "Watching over us" all. We should accept the charge to continue the family genealogy and history and reserve it for the long haul. We need to preserve it exercising dignity and compassion for all. There is not a family member who would be surprised , if in a time of need, The Big Brother was watching over us and came charging down out of the bleachers.