When I was in grade school, marbles was a springtime passion. That it was not an altogether respectable activity for upstanding young boys made it even more alluring. Some schools considered marbles a form of gambling, which technically it was, and banned matches on the grounds.
Pioneer School in Weiser had a progressive principal who allowed games as long as they weren’t played for keeps. Since keeping marbles shot out of the pot – a large ring drawn in the dirt – was the whole attraction of the game, the rule was universally ignored and soon passed into oblivion. The opposition converted its energies setting up an alternative circuit of tournaments with Schwinn bicycles as prizes, but to little effect. We played for keeps and played for bicycles too.
In fact, the keeps circuit was squeaky clean. There were good players who ended up with most of the marbles, but clear rules were observed by all and hardly anyone was reduced to nothing.
Only once did a real marble hustler appear. He arrived one day just before spring planting began. Not much older than us in years, but eons ahead of us in experience, his cool, confident presence dominated the playground. His name was Umberto. Like Brazilian soccer stars, he had only one name.
He carried his marbles in a soft leather bag. An amazing number were agates and he sometimes used them for “dates” – marbles placed in the pot to be shot at. We were lucky to have one agate shooter and instead always dated glass cat’s eyes available at the local five and dime. I got one of my best shooters in a tense match with Umberto.
At the time Louis Antensio was the accepted schoolyard champ. Dennis Lolly was the best shooter and dominated school tournaments but nearly always wilted under Louis’s pervasive self-confidence in a high stakes game. Louis said tournaments were for sissies.
Apart from tournaments, Dennis built his reputation and his marble collection – carried in a much envied purple velvet Crown Royal bag – from lower grades and stiffs like me.
Umberto smelled out Dennis as an easy mark right away. He blew Dennis away in a seven-up (each player put in seven dates) mano-a-mano taking the agate shooter his grandfather had brought home from the Grand Canyon. Umberto shamed him into dating it without uttering a word. He dated five agates himself then stared casually at the gorgeous blue and green rippled shooter until Dennis tossed it into the pot with uncharacteristic bravado. Umberto drilled it on his first shot.
While all this was going on, I was gradually improving my status from stiff to worthwhile opponent at a heavy cost in cat’s eyes. I didn’t much want to play Umberto because the whole school always gathered to watch him clean some poor sucker. I didn’t need the humiliation when I was trying to challenge the top of the ladder and establish myself as a contender.
The rules didn’t allow you to turn down a challenge, however, and one day I found myself face to face with Umberto and a little cabal of lower-grade groupies that he never acknowledged. There was no way out. I decided to feign self-confidence and dated two lesser agates into a five-up pot in order to avoid the same trap that snared Dennis. To my surprise Umberto offhandedly toss in the wondrous shooter he had won from Dennis.
What a prize, if I could win that beautiful agate I could lose all my dates and still come out ahead. It landed tantalizingly close to the edge almost like he wanted my to hit it. I didn’t question his motives and shot it out of the pot on my first shot. Dennis pestered my for months to trade for his Grand Canyon shooter saying Umberto had cheated him. If any one was a cheater, though, it was Dennis. You had to watch him constantly to make sure he wasn’t fudging over the line and he always wrangled selfishly over close calls.
Umberto was an impeccable gentleman around the pot always giving opponents the benefit of the doubt with a shrug and a smile. He left school soon after the planting season began in earnest and was never seen again. I never gave Dennis a chance to win back the Grand Canyon shooter and still have it to this day. I figured that was the way Umberto had planned it.
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