A while back this writer made mention of the Hardt family, a well-known clan in the area.

For over 50 years now the family homestead has been the last few houses on the right of Bishop street, just before you come to Pike Avenue. I've known them all virtually my entire life (there are six children), but David being my age, has been one of my closest, loyal, and trusted friends over all that time.

It's a classic understatement to merely say that in his youth Dave was an exceptional athlete; one could make a case for him as the top all-around athlete to come out of Attleboro High School, as well as its most gifted football player. He was named all Bristol County League in all three sports he played, and was all-state in track where he became the first Bombardier to throw the shot over 60 feet. He was voted a starter for the Boston Record-American's All New England high school football team, and 40 years later still holds about a half dozen records for the University of Kentucky Wildcats.

The same year the Patriots drafted Jim Plunkett number one overall, Dave was drafted in the fifth round. Sadly, he was just getting his feet wet for the pro game when a catastrophic knee injury forever ended those dreams.

If one takes the time and effort to get to know Dave, they will be rewarded with a wonderful friend of great character, but some are put-off by his off-beat sense of humor and practical jokes (more on these in some future column). Today I'd like to share an account of a time when the joke was on Dave, though I have to say that he endured it with as much grace as possible under the circumstances, which were these.

Back in 1960-61 the late Bob Coelho organized a basketball league for the city grammar schools. That year we were in seventh grade at Richardson School, and some of the teammates I can recall were Dave, Mike Walsh, Frank Marcoccio and Billy Mobriant. We had done pretty well through the regular season, and finally the day dawned when we were to meet the Willett team at their gym for the mythical city championship. We all arrived at school that morning churning with excitement and gathered beneath the big oak in the school yard to discuss our plans and chances. A few minutes into our discussion a light bulb went on in Dave's head which, oddly enough, threatened to extinguish our hopes for victory that afternoon. It suddenly occurred to him that in his haste to get to school Big Dave had forgotten his gym bag with his sneakers inside. Now Mrs. Hardt didn't drive, and Dave simply refused to bother his dad at work over his forgotten items. Even in seventh grade, Dave wore a size 14 shoe, so the loan of a pair was out.

Prospects for the Richardson five looked pretty dismal.

Sitting across the street from the Armory those days was a store which was something of a running joke among us East Side kids. It was called "the House of Bargains," and the apparel sold within looked like something from a war surplus house, (circa the Spanish-American War), and none of us would dare be seen within 50 feet of the place. In the front window was a prominently placed sign which read "going out of business sale," which our parents said had been there about 30 years. Now 12-year-old boys are notoriously condescending and snobbish about clothes, so when we all threw our change together and suggested Dave cross Pine Street and buy a pair of sneakers, he adamantly refused.

Eventually, two factors wore down Dave's resistance: one, without sneakers he couldn't play, and two, several of us offered to accompany him at lunch time on his shopping quest. I wasn't one of the trio who made the trip, so I can't report on the "selection process." But Dave returned with two gun boats fashioned from what looked to be an old canvas tent stitched to old strips of tires from a 1923 Essex. Many jokes were made about them in the school yard. Oddly enough, Dave didn't share them.

When school ended, the big moment for tip-off had arrived. We all looked at the floor and bit our lips as Dave came out of the locker room to see us in our Chuck Taylors and P.F. Flyers, then at his own pup tent specials. I swear on the side of one sneaker, you could faintly see where someone had written "Remember the Alamo."

Ultimately the game began and sneakers were forgotten. We had built up a good lead by the half, and about five minutes into the third quarter I grabbed a loose ball and spotted Big Dave on a break. I passed to him, and as he approached two Willett defenders who had laid back on defense, Dave stopped abruptly to take a short jumper which never left his hand. The shot was never taken because as he stopped short, the sole of his left sneaker ripped free of the upper, and just rolled back like an open sardine can. For an endless moment, sound and motion were suspended, until our entire team literally fell on the hardwood in gales of laughter. The rest of the gym wore expressions of "what just happened?" which only fueled our hilarity. In the midst of this, I looked at Dave, whose face was bright red and I was momentarily struck by how he must have felt - until he too gazed down at his feet and broke into that odd shaking silent laugh he has.

Fortunately, our lead held and the Richardson boys won their city bragging rights. I'll bet anything that no one who was in that gym that day recalls the score, but I know they all remember the moment when the sneakers from "the House of Bargains," were no bargain at all for Dave and his Richardson teammates.

Golfing for Gary

Doug DiNardo has informed me that the first Gary DiNardo Memorial Golf Tourney is in the planning and sign-up stages. Doug is seeking 144 players (two foursomes on each of the 18 tees), also for business or personal sponsors to sponsor a tee or green, where their names will receive prominent display. Monies earned will go to scholarships for North Attleboro High School athletes. I hope to have more information for you in two weeks. A difficult week

Finally, this week was a difficult one for our family. We lost two family members within days of one another. Cheryl (Wilmarth) Legg, and Jacqueline (Hunt) McAvoy passed on. Condolences to Cherrie's husband Ron and their family, and to Jackie's lovely daughters Maureen and Sharon, and her sister JoAnne Grenier.

Please be good to everyone out there, and try to do someone a kindness daily.