I don’t remember who we played that cold rainy night when every drop of rain seemed to land like molasses wherever it hit. It was of those Mississippi December nights we kids just knew the rain would turn into snow and we wouldn’t have to go to school the next day. If we were lucky, maybe next week. It didn’t happen. What happened was, our boys got beat on our home court, adding insult to the injury of no snow. The girls won their game and it was up to the boys to defend the honor of the tiny little school called Beulah Hubbard. They fought hard, giving it everything they had, but things just would not come together for the Rebels. No matter how hard he tried, our ace forward just couldn’t find the net that night. The opposing team seemed to snag every rebound and their ace could not miss. It seemed like he scored every time he got the ball, and disaster was in the making for the proud Beulah Hubbard Rebels. To make matters worse, one of our first-string guys made one too many foul and was ousted from the game during the third quarter. That pretty much sealed the fate for our boys. The coach sent in a second string tenth grader. He also gave it everything he had, but he was nervous as the weatherman who had predicted no rain for that night.
By the middle of the fourth quarter, the bleachers were almost empty. The visiting fans knew their guys had it wrapped up and went home. Most of the Rebel fans gave it up and went home too. I really couldn't blame them considering the threatening weather. But there was a one armed man sitting in the bleachers right behind the score keeper. He never faltered, never quit cheering, and never gave up on his beloved Beulah Hubbard Rebels.
His name was Buck Archie. He had three daughters and two sons playing basketball at Beulah Hubbard. He was without a doubt the most loyal fan in the history of that great little school. His daughter Mildred was in my older sister’s class. They played basketball together. Two other daughters, Lois and Lexie, were great basketball players. Lexie could have played on any boys’ team anywhere and they would have known she was there too. Quanell didn’t play basketball, but she was as much a part of the team as any player on the court, sitting right beside her daddy, cheering just as loudly as he did. Buck’s son, T.J., could hang with the best of them. Buck’s older son, A.Q., would never admit it but he was among the best of the best. A.Q. loved the game and he played the game as the true sportsman that he was.
I didn’t play basketball in high school, but I did play on the red clay dirt courts in grammar school and junior high. A.Q. was a formidable opponent. He was the one everyone wanted to team up with. I can remember everybody yelling, “I’m on Archie’s side.” This one particular big-ole tater digger boy was about five years behind the rest of the class, and sure enough, he was on Archie’s side every time.
I saw A.Q. at our class reunion. He spoke of his dad. It didn’t take a genius to see that the one armed man named Buck must have been a great daddy. As A.Q. spoke of his dad, I could see a small tear in his eye and could detect a large lump in his throat as he said, “I miss him.” Followed by a reverent silence. Anybody who ever knew Mr. Buck misses him.
Yes, the other teams scored more points than we did that night and they had finer uniforms and the record books will always reflect a loss for the Rebels, but we had something money could not buy and statistics cannot reflect. We had fans, supporters and daddies like Buck Archie and my daddy, O.J. Gordon, along with so many more. These men made Beulah Hubbard a winner every day, every week, and every year regardless of the numbers on some scoreboard.
The little school on the red clay ridge between Dennis Harrison’s cornfield and J.R. Chaney’s Grocery no longer exists. They closed the school in 1993 and formed a consolidated countywide school. Buck Archie and O.J. Gordon have gone on the be with the Lord. Only rubble and crumbled bricks lie where the gym used to be, but the spirit of Beulah Hubbard still lives in those of us who had the privilege to go to school there. And the memories of great men like the One Armed Man Named Buck will live in our hearts forever.
Rest in peace Mr. Buck……….
