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Family gets its kicks with goal over rooftop
(by Hertha Binder - June 30, 2010)
OF KIDS AND NATURE, BY HERTHA BINDER
Family gets its kicks with goal over rooftop
Our family once had a special game. We live in a two-story century home and had built a garage and office onto it. Our kids had a jungle gym in the back yard, and, after office hours, we used the parking lot for bicycles, skateboards and go-carts. Under my husband's guidance, we developed a game all our own. Having grown up in Austria, Tom -- as any European guy -- had experience in soccer. He could kick a ball, a regular plastic play ball from the grocery store, over the garage roof.
Our kids, Pete, then about 11 years old, and Jeff, 5, watched with open mouth.
"Wow, how did you do that?" Pete asked.
Jeff raced through the garage to the back yard. "I see it. Dad kicked it all the way over here." He brought the ball back. "Kick it again, Dad!"
Again the ball sailed over the garage roof, and Jeff ran to pick it up.
"Hey, Mom," Pete called. "Let's try to throw it back over the roof."
He and I went to the back yard. Since our house sits on a slight slope, the roof isn't as high from the back yard, and, after several tries, I got the ball to scoot over the roof. Jeff hollered something on the other side, and the ball came right back at us.
"Can I try to kick it back, Mom?" Pete had shiny eyes.
"Of course. Just watch the windows."
He kicked the ball hard, right into a window.
Tom heard the noise and came over. "Did the window break?"
"No." I laughed. "It just bent. Hurry back. Pete's gonna kick it over now."
Pete gave it all he had, and the ball did clear the roof. It didn't have a straight course and apparently landed somewhere on the edge of the parking lot. This time it took Jeff and Dad awhile to get it back.
We heard our dogs whine, because they were locked up.
"Can I let them out?" Pete always liked to have them around.
"Why not?"
Now, our two dogs, a German shepherd, Lady, and a large mongrel, Tramp, ran excitedly from one side of the garage to the other, bumping into us and each other and barking lustily. When the ball flew over the roof, Tramp jumped up and hit it with his nose! Excellent aim, although he didn't have the strength to bounce it over the roof. Pete and I ran over and reported to Dad and Jeff. Tramp, who had come along to the parking-lot side, was again able to hit a ball straight on. What an artist!
When we finally quit, I asked Tom, "Say, what does Jeff do? He can't kick over the roof."
"Oh, he's a big help. He runs after the ball and kicks it to me. I couldn't do without him."
Pete patted him on the head. "Hey, little brother, don't be too proud."
As the summer progressed, we all became better. Pete and I could now freely kick the ball over the roof, Tramp nose-kicked every other one, and once or twice a day Dad even kicked it over the two-story high part of our building. Occasionally, a neighbor or a babysitter stopped and watched us. They all showed proper amazement, and some even participated for awhile.
Roofball stayed an important summer game of our family for many years.
It was about 25 years later. Jeff had his own house, and 4-year-old Chuck had several balls. On a Sunday after the picnic, Tom picked up a ball and kicked it over the roof.
"What Grampa doin'?" Chuck's eyes were wide.
"Roofball!" yelled Jeff and kicked the ball back.
Tom was as good as before, and Jeff was now his equal. I, however, was content to admire everyone and take pictures. Chuck tried to run along as fast as the ball was flying back and forth. There was also a dog who barked excitedly and got between the players' feet.
"Grampa, me kick the ball," announced Chuck.
Tom stepped back and watched him. "Oh, you are such a great shot!"
"This is really a deja vu." Jeff lifted Chuck onto his shoulders.
"Daddy, you play this game befo'?"
"Sure did."
"Wif Grampa?"
"Chuck, roofball has been our family's special game. Now you can play it too."
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