While the Vietnam War was raging in South East Asia in the early 70s, I was in High School in West Texas thinking about my next ride on my Bridgestone motorcycle. Usually I would ride it on the salt flats close to home or the small hills behind my house. I couldn’t get enough of riding the motorcycle or playing football. I had decided to take a Building Trade’s class just to be able to keep up with my grandfather who had numerous homes that he would renovate and rent. It was during a class with Mr. Lauderdale who was our teacher that the idea came to me, like a bright flash in the night. I still remember the day it happened and why it happened. We normally would play chess or checkers if the weather was bad and on this particular day it was a down pour not seen before. It rained so hard that artisan wells suddenly were overflowing with water. As we all looked out the windows of our class which was a separate building from the main campus, I looked over at several stacks of drywall, about 3’ to 4’ in hight, located right at the entrance. At the other corner was a small red dodge ball and a couple of sticks about 3’ in length. I went over to the sticks and saw that I could handle them as if I was rowing a boat. They were not oars of course but, immediately, I wondered if I could use the sticks to hit the red ball while using the stacks of sheet rock as a table. The sheetrock stack was about 8’ in length and would work if I or we could control the ball. I called a fellow class mate to see if he was interested in hitting the ball back to me and in truth, within seconds, we were controlling the ball and having a great time. If we missed the ball, it would occasionally hit us in the face, which was not placent. We played for the entire duration of the class and even our teacher got in on the action. That day was so much fun and though it was not ping pong or tennis, it was exciting and Mr. Lauderdale took it like a man since he was the one that usually missed returning the ball with the stick and instead his red face took the brunt of the hitsl. I had so much fun that as soon as I stepped out of the classroom, I forgot all about this very interesting game that was played with rudimentary things. It was all an accident but it was my idea. You would think that the idea was gone, gone forever or until I died since it is said that we have recesses in our minds where thoughts or memories are kept. I would have to admit that this is true. The war came to an end in 1975, I was out of High School, traveled, got educated and eventually settled in Southern CA minding my own business while raising a family. It was on a work assignment that my working companion started to talk about sports and the new games that were being promoted such as bungee jumping and jumping on a trampoline in order to stick to a wall. That’s when it happened, the idea came rushing back to me. The funny game had not disappeared but rather was there waiting to reemerge as perhaps something that could be a real thing. We talked and talked about it and considered designs and possible situations that wouldn’t be hard to imagine. Ram-N-Ball had returned from uncertainty to a possible future where everyone could play. The whole idea of this sport was to improve hand and eye coordination, strengthen the inner core, learn and master a sport without having to sacrifice years of a persons life. Of course like any idea that matters, protection was necessary and required. I learned about doing patent searches, patent designs and utility patents. Nothing was easy and my early designs were useless. I needed help and that’s when Mr. Chris Papageorge stepped in as my patent attorney. Due to his condition and having to work from home, he allowed me to pay him in payments. He was truly a blessing to me. The problem with patent pending situations is that there are people that might try to get involved that are not good or honest. My exciting sport’s future was about to hit a br
