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Out of Left Field |
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of TheColumnists.com
THE INTRODUCTION of the
E-Zpass at bridge and tunnel booths in New York and other areas
is a good thing. Well, almost. The pass eliminates motorists’
need to stop and hand the toll taker a bill or, in cases where
the toll is less than a dollar, the practice of throwing a coin
into the toll box. Which means a hastening of the end of the
toll-booth shotmakers.
As a longtime chronicler of athletic endeavor I have never limited
my focus to the playing fields of huge stadia. I feel that heroics
are within the grasp of every man, woman and child if conditions
and site are right.
Hence my discovery of the playing field that was the exact-change
baskets at the bridges and tunnels.
Almost every second of every day some motorist is reaching into
a pocket for coins in pursuit of glory in making the good shot.
Those baskets, I learned, are a challenge to bring out the best
in any would-be hero.
So it was that one day I stationed myself at a toll booth at
the Throgs Neck Bridge in The Bronx to observe the shotmakers
in action. I saw coins fly with abandon with different thrusts
and hurls worthy of any big-time basketball arena. Noted among
others were these actions:
The Leaner: He leans all the way out of his car
window and reaches across his body with his right hand to drop
the coin into the basket on his left. He rarely misses--but he
sacrifices a quick getaway from the toll booth.
The Cannonball: She slams the coin into the basket
with her left hand and takes off with a jerk, often remaining
in second gear. She regards the quick getaway as more of a challenge
than making the shot.
The Loose Wrist: He is timid, without authority, as
he lets the coin go. He is most likely to miss the basket.
The Rainbower: She shoots with a sense of style.
She throws the coin up so it arcs into the basket. She watches
the coin plunk into the basket with a smile of satisfaction.
The Slob: He usually parks too far from the
basket. He has trouble getting the coin out of his pocket. He
holds up the line of cars. He frequently misses.
The Long-Range Bomber:
Women predominate among
this type. She takes dead aim, purses her lips and throws the
coin to the left on a line across her body with her right hand.
She is surprisinglfy accurate considering the distance. She gets
the most satisfaction out of making the shot.
The Nonchalanter: This is the old pro who has stopped
caring. He drives by and drops the coin with his left hand without
looking. He rarely misses.
The wildest shotmaker of them all I liken to Ernie Calverly,
a young stalwart whose long shot from beyond midcourt won a tournament
game for Rhode Island State at Madison Square Garden in the long
ago. Only smart-alecky schoolboys tried this shot.
The Ernie Calverly is made by the passenger in the right
front seat. He thows the coin over the top of the car trying
to sink it into the basket on the left side. The guards at Throgs
Neck told me nobody was on record for having made the shot. It
was frowned upon by the authorities.
The guards provided these estimates for toll-booth shotmakers:
On a weekday about eight in 100 miss the baskets. On a cold day
about 15 of 100 miss. “That’s because they don’t
open the windows enough and are clumsy in flipping the coin,”
Tom Dunne, a guard, said. The weekend motorists were the worst.
They were clocked for some 20 misses in 100.
Children were generally better scorers than their parents. “That
isn’t quite fair to the adults,” guard Chuck Basch
said, “because the kids lean all the way out of the cars
and drop the coins into the basket.” There was a toll-booth
gun--cost $10--which shot coins into the basket. “The first
time I saw it,” Basch said, “it scared the pants off
me. I thought somebody was angry at the toll collector.”
People with the guns missed, too.
Most passengers watched the driver take his shot. Often somebody
offered a congratulatory remark or handslap after a good shot.
In a few instances backseat drivers applauded successful women
shooters. Guards saw women mouth “You’re welcome”
to the “Thank you” that lit up on the green light beckoning
a successful shooter to pass through. Many nods of satisfaction
were noted even from people driving alone.
Some people hate to miss. Guard Andy Margulis said, “They’ll
grumble something like ‘why don’t you make the baskets
bigger?' or 'You know what you can do with that basket don’t
you!' When a man missed, it was not unusual for the motorist
behind him to comment to the guard, “He should play for
the Mets.”
Another guard, Dick Sasuly, told about the time a husband came
out of a car’s passenger seat to pick up the coin after
his wife missed the basket. “Just as the husband got out,”
Sasuly said, “I told the woman to drive on; that I would
pick up the money. She was flustered, didn’t see her husband,
and drove off. Her husband started chasing after her, yelling,
‘Sarah, stop, stop, wait for me!’
“She never heard him. She must have just kept talking and
never missed him because she just kept on going. The guy was
fuming. We had to put him on a bus to get him home.”
© 2001 by Stan Isaacs. The cartoon is © 2001 by Jim
Hummel.
You can comment on this column or contact Stan Isaacs with an email to: talkback@thecolumnists.com
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