THE GORILLA

When I was being raised in Encinal, I might have been 10 or 12 years old, they actually had a baseball team in Encinal.  The pitcher of the team went by the name Gorilla, he looked like a gorilla.  He was a Mexican guy, but he had a broad face.  He drank out of a bucket when he drank water.  He drank like a half a bucket of water. He’d put his mouth to the edge of the bucket and he’d drink out of it.  He’d walk around eating onions, big whole onions like an apple.  Everybody just looked at him, wooh, this guy.  He used to work for my Grandfather building fences. He was really strong.  He was a really good pitcher for the team. 

One time when he was at our house to talk to my Grandfather, he asked me, “Do you have a baseball and glove?”  “Yeah, I have one.”  “Well, go get it,” he said "and let me pitch some balls to you."  “Okay,” I said. I thought it sounded like fun.  He had me squat down and told me to hold the glove right at my chin.  He walked a distance away.  He said, “Don’t move.” And then he threw the ball so fast I didn’t see it coming and when it hit the glove, wow, my hand was burning.  He threw the baseball so hard that my hand didn’t stop hurting until later that day.  I thought later, what if he had missed; I didn’t have a mask on.  But of course, he wouldn’t miss.

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