I got into a one-sided conversation recently with my wife, who, when she has trouble sleeping, allows me to ramble on aimlessly so she can nod off.

A less confident man would think that my senseless babbling would bore her to sleep. I'm sure —well, pretty sure — that that's not the case, but I found myself talking about the house I lived in as a kid in Washington, Pa.

The house was once known as the Weirich Avenue Neighborhood House, a hangout for kids in the early 20th century.

I don't know when it closed, but it eventually became a dwelling my family inhabited for about three decades.

When we were kids in the 1970s, there was another place where those from different communities could come together to play organized sports.

Known throughout the area as The Brownson House, it was the only organized sports venue for youths through sixth grade.

There was a football field and a gymnasium — The T.S. Fitch Memorial Gymnasium, which I was amazed I could still recall. It was shaped like half a circle with the curve on top,

There also was a small, all-purpose building that hosted wrestling, air hockey and a couple of pool tables.

By playing these sports, you'd receive a free season pass to use the facilities.

I didn't play midget football, though my two brothers did. One of my brothers and I played basketball, although my skills were limited to sitting on the bench. My brother got some playing time and one year was the sixth man.

I usually was limited to playing in the halftime competition for nonstarters or scrubs. My claim to fame was I could steal the ball from anyone. Unfortunately, I didn't know what to do with the ball once I had it. I was called for double dribble every time.

What I remember most from this time was how simple everything was. We played kids from other grade schools — Patten, Wolfdale, First and Fifth Ward, Eighth Ward, Windsor, North Franklin and my team, Wylie-Hayes.

There weren't any travel teams or all-star teams. You came out for the team or you didn't.

Of course, most youngsters played sports in their neighborhoods, sun up to sun down, so exercise wasn't a problem.

I tell everyone everything I learned about team sports I learned in the fifth grade. I wasn't good enough to start and I knew it. It was no secret the good players played the whole game and if you didn't get in, oh well.

I was just happy to be part of the team, to practice and to cheer on my friends.

No one complained about their playing time or equal minutes for their kids. It wouldn't have bothered me if I was cut. You were just glad to be there with your teammates.

I learned a life lesson early: That some kids are better than others and they should play.

Of course, who knows where I'd be today if I could have just gotten past that double dribble habit?

Sam Tallarico is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.