Wednesday, Sep. 21 2011 9:14AM
Poison Ball
Seven retired gas workers share in a weekly game of croquet of their own design
By Julie Scheidegger, jscheidegger@lsjournal.com
Julie Schiedegger, the Journal
The group of retired Missouri Gas Energy employees who gather each Wednesday to play croquet (and poker in the winter) are, from left, John Moroso, Carson Kinnison, Don Steinbach, Mike Sanders, Charlie Beale, Jerry Owen and George King. Most of the group has been playing together for more than a decade.
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closeIt was cool Wednesday morning. An occasional light rain was mostly ignored by the seven men playing croquet in a small, easily overlooked field.
The group is always the same. George King is easily identified by a gray hat with “George” displayed in black cursive letters. Don Steinbach, whose turn seems to last forever as he methodically hits ball after ball gaining turn after turn sending his teammates in unfortunate directions, makes his way across the freshly mowed field.
Mike Sanders sits under a large elder tree on the West side of the field. The branches are so expansive that each of their trucks – and they all drive trucks, save one Chevy Suburban – is shielded from the weather. Carson Kinnison, Charlie Beale, Jerry Owen and the rookie, John Moroso – who is also the youngest at 66 – dot the field, mallets in hand, to finish out the regular group. The men, all retired from Missouri Gas Energy, have been playing a weekly croquet game for more than a decade. Over the years the game has changed locations, but now they play in a pasture owned by John Gilbert, the last piece of long ago farmland north of Chipman Road on Main Street.
The playing field is mowed short every Wednesday morning before games begin. The mower still sits at the edge of the field where tall grass marks out of bounds. Six, mostly white plastic patio chairs sit around the field with the authority of Wimbledon judges stands.
“It’s a challenge,” Kinnison said about the game. “It’s a backyard game, but the way we play, it ain’t backyard.”
As the men shift around the field, the mallets they carry are not the quaint props of period movies set next to afternoon tea. These mallets swing like Thor’s hammer. “They’re homemade,” Kinnison said of his three-inch by three-inch maple mallet.
Everyone uses the same mallets – made by Steinbach – all three by three-inch hard maple – some with round edges, most squared off. The length of the mallet may vary, but most are an imposing foot long. Kinnison jokes that his handle is crooked and the face of the square-block mallet is uneven.
“I make them put their own handles in there, so if it’s crooked, I blame them,” Steinbach retorts.
Heckling is just as much sport as the game itself on this field.
“We have fun picking on each other,” Steinbach said.
Some would call ‘picking’ trash talking, and if the game wasn’t croquet, but basketball, this would be street ball on one the toughest courts around.
“The rules are a lot different when you’re playing like this,” Steinbach said. “It keeps it interesting for everybody.”
They call it “Poison” and anyone can win and anyone can get knocked out. The players make their way through the wickets – again, homemade from rebar, once painted yellow and now chipped from heavy use – to the pin on the opposite side. As usual, a player is awarded strokes for passing through a wicket, hitting a pin or hitting another player’s ball – sending another’s ball flying is expected and encouraged. Some play where only one ball can be hit per turn; on this field, it’s a free for all.
After a player makes his way to the opposite pin, he turns around to return to the starting pin. Normally, whoever hits the pin first wins, but not in Poison. Poison turns croquet into a game of seek and destroy. “If you hit the pin, you’re out on the way back,” Steinbach said. “(You’ve) got to knock out (hit) every other ball to win.”
The man left standing is the victor.
They’ve been playing this way for as long as they can remember.
“I think it’s something we just came up with just to make it a little interesting,” Steinbach said.
That morning, Steinbach takes the first two games, King the third. For the losers, a dollar is owed.
“Bunch of us old guys getting together – that’s what it’s all about,” Steinbach said.
It’s the camaraderie that keeps the game going, and it’s year round.
“After daylight savings, we start playing poker,” Sanders said from his lawn chair.
He gets up and grips his mallet. The still cool morning means croquet season is nearing its end. It will be poker at Sanders’ house soon.
Until then, one more game.
