From the
Upper Deck
Rounding The Bases A Final Time
By Jim Steele
steele@mckenziebanner.com |
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I was proud to call Swat Scarbrough my friend.With a
big grin on his face, he used to greet me with an
effervescent "Hey there, Big Boy."
Then, with the might of a powerlifter, he'd grab my
hand and give me a vigorous handshake that almost tore
my arm from my shoulder.
Swat had that kind of infectious personality. When he
was glad to see you, he let you know it. His nickname
for me the last several years has been "Big Boy." Swat
would call my mom and dad and always ask "how the Big
Boy was doin.'"
He'd always ask me, sort of like a grandparent you
haven't seen in a long time, how big I was. I'd tell him
and he'd marvel. And he got a kick out it when I would
jog past his house. He was curious how someone with as
bulky a frame as mine could have the stamina to jog like
I sometimes do.
Frankly, I'm curious how I'm able to do that, too.
Honestly, not too well.
Swat would guffaw when I'd trudge past his house. The
temperatures would be in the high 90s or higher and he'd
be working in his yard for hours, wearing a hat and long
pants and not breaking a sweat. I'd be dying in
perspiration.
Swat was mayor and sheriff and did many great things
for this community. The tennis courts, part of the park
that went up on his watch, served as a summertime
babysitter for my sis and me and many of our like-minded
friends. I've treaded the dugouts, batter's boxes and
base paths as both a player and reporter at those
baseball and softball fields.
Swat was a pioneer for youth sports. Decades ago, he
helped spearhead youth league baseball in this community
and was, as has been well documented, perhaps the best
all-around athlete Bethel College has ever seen.
He was inducted into the school's athletics hall of
fame in 1999, a move that corrected a huge error.
Scarbrough should have been a charter member of that
now-legitimate group. I wish there was a way to make
that a retroactive move. I served as MC for that
induction, which was a very special honor for me. It was
pleasing to know that his daughter Emily was able to
take part in the induction. It was heartbreaking to know
that Swat's wife, Margaret, who had passed just two
years prior, could not. Emily also succumbed to cancer
shortly after Swat's induction.
Many a night, Swat would visit my family's house and
talk about the old days. He'd mention teammates like
Kermit Holland, Joe McClure, "Jigs" Lattimer to name a
few. He savored those memories.
If Swat liked you, you had no better friend. If he
didn't like you, you didn't have to ask him where you
stood. He was a principled guy who could be a lightning
rod at times, but would give you the shirt off his back
if you needed help. His governing style matched his
personality: at times compassionate, at times combative.
But if he thought he was right, he stuck to his guns.
He loved baseball, but hated the erosion of
fundamentals and skills at the Major League level to the
point where it was painful for him to watch.
Swat passed away Wednesday afternoon, Aug. 6. He was
strong until the very end. As was mentioned at his
funeral service, "Even though he was 89, his passing was
a shock to us all."
He was a great friend and a good man who loved his
family, his country and McKenzie.
I know what he's doing right now. He's catching up
with his mom, dad, Margaret and Emily. When he's done
with that, he's going to find his "King Swat" hat that
he wore as a boy and round up some of his teammates from
that era and take a bit of BP. I sure hope St. Peter has
a lot of baseballs stockpiled up there because Swat sure
is going to lose a few.
Though he was 47 years my senior, he treated me like
a peer. I was proud to call Swat my friend. More than
anything else, though, I was proud that Swat called me
his friend.
My thoughts and prayers are with his family and I
will certainly miss him. |
