A Fleeting Moment in a Floating World: a picture looking for a story.

A fleeting moment in a floating world, a picture looking for a story. 

I don’t tolerate inactivity well. I am busy with our business from January through August, but by December I get very stodgy. I drink too much coffee, read and re-read old books and wait for the year to end. Shawna, this time of the year, runs lots of errands. 

To add purpose to my daily routine (and maybe to make myself somewhat tolerable) several months ago I began sorting through the storage boxes in my basement. I found lots of old photos in need of a story. Even the most mundane ones can suck you back into a moment.

Photographs are a lot like favorite hit songs from our youth. Everyone has a song that got them through a bad breakup (Separate Ways) or made you feel like you wanted to go out and raise hell with your friends on a weekend (The Boys are Back). Those songs still feel like that to me.

Our lives are a continual state of vanishment and when snippets of life have vanished there is no mechanism on earth which can make them come back again - unless someone took a snapshot. Then the memory becomes tangible. 

A photograph never grows old. Through all the months and years, we will change, but a photograph remains forever the same - a return ticket to a moment recaptured. Not every photo I sort through in my basement is epic. To be honest, few are - but the memories are.

The photo attached here is from a high school basketball game. I can tell from the background that the gymnasium is that of Festus, MO High School. The players are Phil Tessereau of Crystal City on the left and Alvin Riney of St. Pius. I can deduct from the picture the contest is played on a neutral floor hosting the Festus Tournament, a four-team neighbor rivalry packed event played, back then, on the last Thursday and Saturday of January. The other two schools entered were Herculaneum and the host team, Festus. All four high schools were within a five-mile radius of each other, making the tournament a must see for area fans. The Festus Tournament died years ago. 

Although I can find no documentation – a game story or a box score - in the Sunday January 27, 1974, edition of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, I base my source for this blog entry on my memory. I was a junior that night playing for Crystal City, which would set the date as 1974. Phil was a year older than me. I recall we played St. Pius in the championship game and we won. In the 1974 CCHS yearbook we pose for our official team picture with the championship trophy displayed. 

The stylish confidence of both Phil and Alvin jumps out. Both ooze with the quality every 1970’s teenage boy strove for - the cool factor. Alvin with the perfectly symmetric Afro hair style, Phil with the long curls covering his ears and cascading over the collar. Both are young Alpha Males, pairing on the town’s main stage both their youthful charisma and athletic skills. If only life would remain so clearly scoreboard defined. 

In a millisecond the game will return to a blur of action, the picture now rudimentary. The ball and the players ricochet off each other, the passion of the contest driving the packed gym to a pitch of frenzy, destined for a winner and a loser.

It is good for the imagination that the conclusion of this momentary standoff has been lost to time. I am sure neither player can today recall this specific possession. Understandable. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of just such one-on-one duels between players in the evening’s 32 minutes of fevered action. So, let’s let reality reside in the eye of the beholder. I give Phil the liberty to recall a developing old-fashioned three-point play, Alvin the decisive delivery of an upcoming “in your face” rejecting swat. 

I one recent afternoon stopped and relished this simple black and white photo from over 50 years ago. The distinct and sweeping power in this monochromatic image triggers that same rush of exhilaration that defined me in 1974. 

High School, in general, and basketball, in particular, are both full of trash-talk and posturing - false attempts to impress peers and foes alike- a phony teenage pretense we all used at times to prop up our self-esteem. But at a time like this, all are stripped away in a “winner take all” moment, one shot at forever. Some who have never been there will say you will not remember who won the game. I say no way - I sure remember. And I bet Phil and Alvin do as well. 

In 1974 I was Phil’s teammate, and I knew Alvin from around town. Over the years, I have sporadically crossed life’s path with both. The onslaught of the new century’s social media helped. 

Phil started off his adult life as a full-time high school coach then relocated back home and moved into private business – but he stayed involved in the sport. Phil coached numerous area youth teams and was a part-time assistant at local schools. Several years ago, he took on, as a head coach, the much-needed rebuilding job of the Crystal City Hornets. Eventually his efforts produced a district championship season. For a “Once a Hornet, Always a Hornet” like me, still relishing the memories of the glory days, it was cool to see a teammate bring back to our alma mater some needed old school toughness.

I have interacted with Alvin a few times over the years at my summer basketball camps. He, mirroring Phil’s adult path, has served as a part time assistant coach for several area high school programs, both boys and girls. He was, in our few camp interactions, engaging and warm. It was apparent to me he was well liked by his players and effective through his passion for the sport. He still had that cool factor. Over the years, from media accounts I read, I know Alvin as a long time both vocal and respected community activist. 

Alan Ginsberg wrote the poignancy of any photograph comes from a "visual memory clue of a fleeting moment in a floating world." The transitoriness is what creates the sense of memory. Then life moves on. 

Both Phil and Alvin would move on from this still shot and beyond this school kids’ game of basketball to become the successful adults they are today. Over the last half century both have created ripples of positive change, payback to the hometown that educated them. 

Society invests a lot of resources in education. The main goal should always be to produce tomorrow’s leaders. Athletics play a role. I have built my life’s work on that premise. We claim to teach leadership, and leadership is not about being the best, it is about making those following you better. One team in this picture did not win. One did. But the young men on both benefited. 

But forget all that heavy stuff. Take a winter afternoon to find an old forgotten picture stored in your basement and just soak it in, capturing the sentiment and emotion. The good ones tell a story maybe only you know, a scene that defines certain times in your life. Then bounce up the stairs and share. 

Mery Christmas 2025.