Tag life

Bill Riggs: A Coach—and So Much More

Reg Spittle 4 Comments

“Here you go, Reg.” Coach handed me the baseball scorebook. “The directions are inside the cover. If you need them.”

Need them? I couldn’t even understand most of the book’s first two pages, which were filled with rows and columns of diamond-shaped basepaths, each representing a player’s at-bat. But Bill Riggs was depending on me to figure it out during the varsity season opener at Oxnard High School in California.

Coach had recruited me to be the team manager, a job reserved for the school’s nerdiest kid. But he treated me like I was one of his biggest stars. Kindness, humor, and respect were his mantra.

I had no idea that the opportunity he handed me that spring day would change my life.

Barely 30 minutes before the first pitch, I climbed the bleachers, scorebook in hand. I spotted a short, middle-aged guy who held a pencil—and a book identical to the one I carried.

I had struck gold.

Bill Clark was a sports writer for the Oxnard Press-Courier and encouraged me to copy his marks as he explained that F-9 meant a fly ball caught by the right fielder. Like my coach, he quickly won my admiration and appreciation.

After the last out, I handed the scorebook to Coach Riggs. He opened it and scanned my work.

”Looks like you knew what you were doin’.” He patted my shoulder. “I saw you sat by Bill Clark.”

I looked Bill Riggs in the eye. “He offered me a job at the newspaper. I start Friday!”

That day began my 20-plus-year career in journalism, my backup job to 31 years as an educator.

Bill Riggs died on New Year’s Day, 2026. He was 95 years old. I am 73 now and tears flow as I remember a great man who touched my life in more ways than he ever knew, with a major assist from another Bill.

Childhood Numbers Reveal My Story

Reg Spittle 2 Comments

I have been drawn to young-adult books lately, moving away from my usual diet of non-fiction.

Why?

I have told myself it is because they are entertaining, compelling, and easy to read.

But last week, after I finished yet another story about a boy who battled a long list of troubles no kid should have to face, I did some math and it led me to confirm another theory.

Here is a snapshot of my life from 1963 to 1966 while living in California’s Ventura County:

–Eight moves, including five in my family’s old 50-by-8 home on wheels.

–Six schools, beginning as a sixth-grader (as in this picture) through the beginning of my freshman year in high school. I changed schools three times (including a boomerang) in sixth grade, when Mom and Dad separated. My mom, little brother, and I moved back to the trailer with Dad just months later. Then three junior high schools.

The eighth move took us out of the trailer into the relative luxury of a small apartment. I was lost as a new kid once again, this time at Oxnard High School. Then Dad left–for good–and I celebrated. I know I probably shouldn’t say that.

So what does all this have to do with my reading preferences?

I identify. With poor, nerdy characters who are easy targets. With kids who move so often they learn self-preservation by avoiding close friendships. With kids from split homes.

Like most of the characters who capture my interest (and my heart), I survived. Well, way more than that, actually. My best-friend-ever Sue and I have been married 40 years, raising three sons who make us proud.

Meanwhile, I am hooked by yet another book about a middle-school kid. He’s struggling, but I am pulling for him. I know he can overcome.