Lemons in a Box - Meta Strauss

Armon Leifenbacker the Forth was a farm boy.  His great- grandfather, grandfather and father were farmers.  The multi-generational family lived 3 miles outside Tunica, Mississippi on the family property, the property Armon One was given by his owner when he was freed after the Civil War.  All the Armons knew it was unusual for black folks to have a German name, but that’s the way it was. 

For generations the Leifenbacker’s lived off their cotton and peanut crops. If the weather cooperated, they were fine. If not, the Leifenbackers came close to starving since potatoes, tomatoes and other area produce in their garden required the same good weather as the cash crop.

Tunica County’s claim to fame from it’s inception, if it could be deemed an honor, was that the little delta town was listed as one of the nation’s top ten poorest counties. A full 25 percent of the citizens lived below the poverty line each relying on an elaborate bartering system to keep them in essentials. In the late 1990’s the official average family income topped off at $22,000 per year. Those figures were achieved only after casinos were built providing the region with its first non-agricultural industry.

When Armon Four was three years old, his Daddy traded a bail of cotton for three crates of lemons. At first Melbalee, Four’s Mama, was thrilled.  Lemons were a delicacy to be treated with reverence since they came all the way from South Texas.  At first she made sweet lemonade, then lemon pies, then lemon cakes and then lemon curd for the pantry.  Mablelee put peels in muslin bags and hung them in the windows so the house would smell fresh. Eventually she was out of ideas for the yellow ovals so she allowed the little boy to use the boxes and lemons for toys.  Since Four had no real toys, rolling the lemons around the house and yard represented hours of entertainment. 

By the age of four he could target an empty box, toss a dried up lemon inside from thirty yards away and never miss.  His dad and mom often threw them back to the tyke to keep him nearby while they worked the fields, never paying attention to the child’s dexterity and ability to catch and throw.

A major turn in Four’s life happened at the Good Will thrift store when his Mama took him to get new jeans for school. New to the youngest Armon meant “purchased at Good Will” or “given out at church trade days.”  It was there that Four spotted a worn-out, but genuine regulation football and Mablelee, realizing the lemons had long sense dried into dust, bought it for her son.

Thanks to the enforcement of integration laws, Four was the first Leifenbacker allowed to attend public schools. His six foot four, two hundred pound body was nothing special to the family.  They just chalked it up to country cooking and hard farm work.  However, at Tunica High, coaches, fellow students and the team’s supporters revered him.  Armon the Forth was the highest scoring player on the Lion’s baseball, basketball and football teams ... ever.  His family, like all families in Tunica, never missed a Lion’s game. They were proud of Four’s athletic success as long as there was time to plant and pick.

They never dreamed he would have offers to attend college and discouraged the many recruiters who visited the farm trying to sell them on their school. The boy was needed at home and that was that.  That is until the folks from Ole Miss assured Mama they would take care of her boy, that he would be safe, have home-cooked meals and a nice bed and room of his own.  They had a harder time explaining how Papa could run his farm without Four but after negotiations the coach of Ole Miss picked up Armon Four and delivered him to the school’s campus in time for football practice. 

In trade, the Ole Miss Boosters, a group of rich Rebel fans who always did what it took to get the athletes they wanted, left a shiny new John Deere tractor. For Mama a brand new purple Cadillac, complete with driving lessons, appeared in the gavel drive next to their house.

The Leifenbackers never missed a chance to cheer for their son and drove a hundred miles each way in the purple Caddy to attend each Rebel home game. They quickly learned to enjoy dining out and staying overnight at the Oxford, Mississippi La Quinta Inn. 

When Armon accepted a multi-million dollar contract with the San Francisco Forty-Niners they could only wish their boy well.  They had no idea where San Francisco was but knew they could see him play on their wide screen TV, another perk furnished by the Ole Miss Booster Club.

Armon became a faithful member of the Niners team but for several seasons sat on the bench. Then in 2015 Armon’s agility and accuracy placed him at the top of the roster.  That happened when Michael Crabtree was injured in the forth quarter of the tied-up Superbowl game and Coach Jim Harbaugh sent Armon in to replace Crabtree. In the last minutes of the hard-fought battle Armon Leifenbacker the Forth caught Colin Kaepernick’s long pass and won the game for the Niners.

In between the shouts and cheering, the newscasters remarked this teamed up the two players with the most difficult-to-pronounce names in the league, pointing out each was spelled with so many letters the names wouldn’t fit across the back of the player’s jerseys.

After the game Howie Long put a microphone in Leifenbacker’s face. “Can you believe it!  Superbowl 49 and the 49ers take the trophy.  Armon Leifenbacker, how does a farmer from Tunica, Mississippi get to the big league and make the winning play in a Superbowl game?”

Wet from a Gator Aid splash the hero laughed into the camera. ”Well, Howie. I guess you could say my football career started with a bunch of lemons in a box.”