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Does Anyone Remember Ten Tag?
Ten-tag sounds like a simple game, and in many ways, it is a simple game, but for a skinny, weak, nine-year-old boy who is trying to figure out who he is and what’s important, ten-tag can be a daily challenge.
The cement-covered lot where the boys played was like a Roman arena of sorts. It sat between a house at the top of Grove Street and the school itself at the bottom of that same short street. The homeowner’s wooden fence served as the top, northern barrier; the school wall acted as the barrier on the east side; and a shorter, wooden fence separated the bottom, southern end of the lot from another school wall. Thus, anyone who was too timid to play but wanted to watch had to stand to the west on the sidewalk and look over the iron rail that separated the participants from the bystanders. Jimmy was too afraid to not play and too timid to play well.
The boys who played ten-tag ranged from third grade to sixth grade, but most of the serious players were in the fifth and sixth grades. Jimmy never played as a third-grader, but when some of his fourth-grade buddies began to climb over or under the iron rail, they encouraged him to give it a try.
The game usually began with a sixth-grader in the middle and everyone else near the fence at the top. When this designated sixth-grader said “One, two, three, go,” the mob rushed to the bottom fence…
