Keep It in Your Sneaker

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Jack Reagan’s life as a teen growing up in the suburbs of Boston. Jack Reagan loved the name Stringere because he considers himself to be proficient in Latin. The following story, which is true—except for the names and places—shows you how scholarly Jack is in Latin.

Excerpt—from Keep It in Your Sneaker, now being written by Jack Reagan with the assistance of John T. Watts.

In an attempt to insure Jack didn’t turn out to be a thug in high school like his brother, Danny, Murph, their mother, sent Jack to Marist High School in Natick, Massachusetts. Thinking that a Catholic education would be beneficial, she took Jack out of Waltham High for a short time in the ninth grade. During this period, Jack learned Latin under the tutelage of Sister Anna Catherine.

Sister Anna Catherine, who was as mean-spirited and hateful as you could imagine, had it in for Jack from the day he arrived. She was on his case constantly. If he didn’t do his homework, he paid dearly, as she embarrassed him repeatedly in class by saying things like, “Someone with an I.Q. over 130 should be able to answer that.” She made a derisive comment about Jack’s I.Q. every day, without exception.

One Monday afternoon, it all came to a head when Jack didn’t have his Latin homework, choosing instead to watch The Lawman and the Ed Sullivan Show on television the night before. As soon as class started, Sister Anna Catherine asked Jack for his homework, which he grudgingly admitted he didn’t have. Without saying a word, she went to her desk and brought out a white tennis ball, holding it out for the entire class to see.

“Jack, come up here immediately,” she said, barely able to contain her malevolent smile, which would have given away her true goal—Jack’s complete humiliation. When he reached the front of the class, she said, “Jack, I want you to bounce the ball. Each time you bounce it, give the Latin declensions, singular and plural for all five persons. Do it now, and do it without making a mistake.”

Everybody in class was on the edge of their seat, knowing what a daunting task this was. There were a total of fifty answers, and Jack had to give them in fifty bounces. He wasn’t sure he could get it right in English, which has three declensions and three persons, let alone Latin. But, Sister Anna Catherine gave him the ball, intent on humiliating Jack in front of the entire class.

Jack took the ball and started. Bouncing it, he said, “A . . . ae . . . ae . . . am . . . ae; ae . . . orum . . . is . . . as . . . is.” He stopped, having completed the first declension correctly, and handed the ball back to Sister Anna Catherine.

“That’s just the feminine declension, Jack. I expect you to do the masculine, neutral, and passive voices as well. Bounce the ball and start over, Jack.” With that, she handed it back to him.

He began again with the feminine declension. Mid-way through the masculine, a boy in the back couldn’t contain himself any longer and started laughing. Another followed, and finally Sister Anna Catherine let out a little giggle. With that, the entire class erupted in a laugh that even a comedian like Jackie Gleason would have envied. It was so loud that Jack’s recitation couldn’t be heard by anyone, which covered up several mistakes Jack made. Everybody was having a great time at Jack’s expense, which both infuriated and humiliated him.

Suddenly, and without thought, he caught the ball, raised his arm, and threw it out of the open window. Instantly, the laughter stopped, as all the kids switched their gaze from Jack to Sister Anna Catherine, intent on witnessing Jack’s certain annihilation. She didn’t say a word. She simply turned and glided out of the room at a pace worthy of a marathoner with her Habit shuffling in the breeze. Jack just stood there stiff necked in righteous indignation, not even bothering to return the stares of his incredulous classmates.

Jack thought the Principal, Father Dunnigan, would just give him a reprimand, but it was worth it to put Sister Anna Catherine in her place. He would let Father know how out of line she was to humiliate him like that.

One minute later, Father Dunnigan came to the classroom door and motioned for Jack to follow him, which Jack did obediently, passing Sister Anna Catherine as she went back to her class with a mischievous smirk on her face. Jack could tell she was savoring her victory over him.

When they reached Father’s office, Jack walked in and turned around to plead his case. As he was opening his mouth to speak, he was hit on the left side of his face by a right hook from Father Dunnigan, which knocked Jack off his feet. Lying on his back, Jack managed to prop himself up by his left elbow. Dazed and confused, Jack felt the left side of his face was numb, which was completely numb. He couldn’t fathom what had just happened let alone understand why.

Before he could say a word, Father Dunnigan knelt down inches from Jack’s face and said, “Do I have your attention, Jack—your complete attention?”

In absolute terror, Jack nodded affirmatively. The priest did have his complete and undivided attention.

“That’s good, Jack. I’m going to talk to you man to man. Can I do that, Jack?”

Again, Jack nodded affirmatively, too frightened to speak.

“That’s good. Thank you for that, Jack.” In a clear, calm way, Father Dunnigan added, “I’m tired of your bullshit and disrespect. You’ve got a piss-poor attitude, Jack, and I want it to change. I want it to change right now—this very minute. Do you understand me, Jack?”

Jack nodded his head; he understood. By now, he was nodding without stop.

“Good, I’m glad you understand.” Changing tone and moving away from his combative position, Father Dunnigan continued, “Now, sit in here for the rest of the afternoon, Jack, and say the Rosary five times. When you come back tomorrow, I want to see a completely new attitude from you. If your attitude doesn’t change—not improve, but change—I’ll throw you out of here on your ass. Do you understand, Jack? Do you know I mean what I say?”

“Yes, Father,” Jack answered as he continued to nod vigorously. By now, the entire left side of his face was beginning to swell, as it started to throb painfully.

“That’s good, Jack. Now, let me get you some ice.” With that, the confrontation was over. Jack sat in the office whimpering from pain, fear, and embarrassment; and the remainder of the school day passed uneventfully.

On the bus ride home, nobody spoke to Jack. The kids were curious, but this was far too serious for them to stick their necks out. Jack was on his own with this one, and most of them thought that he got what he deserved anyway.

As he walked in the front door of his house, his mother took one look at him and said, “Have you been in a fight?”

“No, Mom. Father Dunnigan hit me,” he said, bursting in tears, as his mother brought him into her consoling arms.

Once her brief consolation was complete, Mary Reagan, nostrils flared, picked up the phone and called Marist High School. Jack listened intently, while trying to control his sobbing.

She said, “Hello, this is Mary Reagan, Jack’s mother, and I want to speak to Father Dunnigan.” As the receptionist spoke, Jack couldn’t hear a thing, but he saw his mother’s face become increasingly resolute.

“I don’t care what kind of meeting he is in,” Mary said. “He has hit my son, and I demand to speak to him immediately. Go get him now,” she said in her don’t-mess-with-me voice.

After a wait of several minutes, Father Dunnigan finally picked up the phone. When he did, Murph started. “Father, my son’s face is swollen, and he says it’s because you hit him. Is this . . . “ she never finished her sentence. Father Dunnigan interrupted her, and Jack could hear Father’s muffled voice speaking very fast and very authoritatively.

“But Father, hitting a . . .“ again she was interrupted. After listening for another minute, Murph’s demeanor changed. She was now intent on every word Father Dunnigan spoke, nodding her understanding, which Jack could see and the Priest could only sense.

Finally, she interrupted him and said, “Father, I have something to say.” Looking directly at Jack, as she spoke, she pronounced, “If he ever does anything like that again, you have my permission to beat the shit out of him.”