When going back through the sports history of Bridgeport High School, Eric Stoneking certainly doesn’t have to take a backseat to a whole lot of people. After all, he was an all-state performer in both football and basketball, was part of the first-ever state championship boys basketball team at the school and wasn’t too shabby on the baseball field.

 

Yet despite all of that, for those who remember Stoneking’s playing days, nothing he did on the playing field is usually among the first things that come to mind. And count yours truly as being among the group that thinks elsewhere for Stoneking.

 

Before I go further, understand that what many may think is heading into a blog that’s sad it’s actually quite the opposite. In fact, Stoneking himself gets a bit of a kick out of the memory. And I’m going to lay it on the line and say that, without a doubt, it is absolutely the single funniest moment I’ve ever witnessed in Bridgeport High School sports history.

 

The reason why it’s “sports history” for something that didn’t take place during the actual playing of a game is that it happened before a game. In fact, it happened in front of a large frenzied crowd at the BHS gymnasium back in 1993 when I’m pretty sure that the doors had been closed to the gym as to not upset the state fire marshal and seating capacity requirements.

 

“I still remember, and, yes, people still bring it up to me,” said Stoneking. “For a long time after that it was always brought to my attention. What’s bad is that I have most of my recollection from what happened from people telling me about it because it happened too quickly. I was involved, and didn’t really see it.”

 

I did. In fact, 21 years – almost 22 years – ago I saw. It happened right in my path of vision, and it left an entire gymnasium of people and his teammates (and probably some on the other team) doubled over. In fact, I laughed for most of the rest of what turned out to be a fantastic game against Liberty.

 

It was during that 1992-93 season when the Indians would win the state title that their biggest rivalry – and only insurmountable hurdle – was Liberty. The Mountaineers managed to put three losses on the Tribe that year (including a holiday tournament loss) when LHS was still in Class AAA. The losses came by something like a combined six points.

 

Because of that, the place was packed. Bridgeport’s students had formed a tunnel leading from the old locker room entrance all the way past mid-court. As each player was announced, he came out onto the floor through the students and right in front of where I was at the scorer’s table.

 

Stoneking, a junior at the time, was known for being a bit fiery. In fact, he was one of the most intense players I can remember from that era in every sport he played. Basically, he played basketball like he played football – with a lot of contact. And he was already putting himself into the mental mindset he felt he needed just prior to his name being called.

 

“We were ranked at the time really high in Class AA and Liberty was ranked too with great players likes Chad Weekley and Scott Davis. They had already beaten us, and I was really mentally into the game,” said Stoneking. “I can’t remember, but I think it worked at least personally because I think I played decent even though we lost.”

 

While it may have been good for Stoneking, it wasn’t good for a fan. After all-staters Matt Kerns and Russ Sickles were announced, Stoneking heard his name called and he went full tilt on to the floor. From there, well, things are a bit blurry in his mind.

 

“The students were just piled up; all the way up to the door and the visibility just wasn’t that great,” said Stoneking. “I kind of put my head forward and ran full speed just focusing on the scorer’s table.”

 

That tunnel vision – pun intended – proved bad for a fan and classmate Stoneking said was named Christie James. While Stoneking said he remembers the collision, he doesn’t remember the severity of it.

 

I do.

 

She somehow came out just a few feet into the path of Stoneking as he was in full gallop. And she was literally flattened. To make it worse, Stoneking never broke stride. His facial expression never changed.

 

What really put it over the edge wasn’t Stoneking’s intensity in the situation. For me, it was watching other students drag this poor girl off the floor like you see soldiers being drug off the battle field. It’s as close as I’ve come to losing control of my bladder ever at a work-related event.

 

“After the collision, my real vision that I knew something was up other than just running into someone was seeing Matt and Russ getting ready for the biggest game of the year and they’ve got their hands on their knees; doubled over and laughing,” said Stoneking. “As I go to the bench, I look over and see (teacher Ron) Hawk Romeo just howling. Then looked around and the entire gym was laughing. I just wish I could remember seeing it.”

 

Stoneking said as years went on he didn’t mind being reminded about it, but did say it somewhat bothered him that he never talked to the student about it. Partially because he said he didn’t realize – even at the time – just how hard of a collision it was until it kept coming up constantly over the years.

 

“I saw her a few years ago and she actually brought it up to me. She laughed about it and I apologized because I don’t know if I ever did prior to that, but I should have,” said Stonking with what seemed like a guilty laugh. “I guess had I stopped and picked her up, which Chad Montgomery always told me I should have done, we wouldn’t be talking about it 20 years later. I’m just glad she’s okay with it.”

 

I’m glad she’s okay with it too. I don’t feel so bad telling it two-plus decades later. After all, it’s still the funniest thing I’ve ever seen at a BHS sporting event. 

 

Editor's Note: Photos courtesy of BHS Journalism Department and Mrs. Alice Rowe.