FollowIf Lee Harvey Oswalt tilted his rifle just a quarter inch to the left, JFK probably would have been around for another six years of presidency. If Ralph Branca pitched the ball just a quarter inch more towards the inside of the plate, Bobby Thomson might have grounded out and the Giants would have never won the pennant.
Quarter inches can be a big deal.
In eighth grade I confronted the quarter inch, or lack thereof, that trumped all of these aforementioned quarter inch-ers.
It was a cold gloomy day, with a sky as black as ash – it was probably sunny and pleasant but this is the way I choose to remember it – when I walked into the doctor’s office for my annual checkup. As an innocent adolescent at the tender age of 14, I was not prepared for the devastation that was about to be dealt: I was five feet, eight and three quarter inches tall. The year before, I was five feet, nine inches.
Forty years premature, I experienced what I imagine a mid-life crisis to be. I had peaked. Now, I know that 5 feet, eight and three quarter inches is only slightly below average height – not indicative of the size of any other body appendages, ladies – and that I shouldn’t be complaining, but let me put this into perspective.
I entered middle school a five foot, eight inch behemoth who sported a full man beard. I left quivering scrawny twerps insecure of their prebuscence in my wake. It was glorious. I thought that this is what it must feel like to be God, or Shaq.
I commanded immense power over the hordes of shorties. But then it all came crashing down.
I witnessed as my friends who used to be of perfect noogie height could now see me eye to eye. I witnessed my younger brother catch up to me, granted with great assistance from his afro, and then greatly exceed my once mighty height. Recently I walked in shame up to the bema to stand in the shadow of my newly bar mitzvah’d brother who was already slightly taller than me.
There comes a time in every man’s life where he has to confront his height.
Like death, it is inescapable that one day your height will be cemented, thus determining your standing in the social order for the rest of your life. At this point, fellow Berkeley-ians, you’re pretty much finished growing and are either set to eternally live the high life, or a life of shortcomings.
That being said, there may still be hope for you late bloomers. In fact, both Scottie Pippen, the second best Chicago Bull, and Kevin Costner, star of such classic films as Waterworld and The Postman sprung up about eight inches in college.
And if you’ve finally tapped out at an unfavorable height then I feel for you. It’s a tough world out there for guys like us. In a country where over 85% of the male population is under six foot but over 70% of CEO’s are six foot or taller, it seems like no one is sticking up for the little guy. I mean, where’s MY Equal Pay Act, Obama?
But don’t fret if you’re a little vertically challenged. There are plenty of successful shorties like Danny Devito, Napolean, and Jesus.
Since that fateful day, I have distanced myself from the short group, ascending out of Robert Redford range and settling gently into Sean Penn range at five feet, nine and a quarter inches, and I say “quarter” with pride because every quarter counts.
Image Sources: Toth Ministries
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