Chapter 4: Big Red




Center fielder Gordon Barna 




     "Go big Red!" bellows a scruffy old man wearing a paddy cap and standing behind the Manville bench at LaMonte Field on a crisp afternoon in mid-April.

"Bring em home, Barna," clamors Coach Martin with three quick claps, one for each runner on first, second, and third base.



     Our tall center fielder Gordon Barna had been a clutch hitter since stroking several home runs in our Little League all-star championship run five years earlier. Gordon's jocular verbosity had gotten him into periodic fist fights with teammates, but his consistent strong play kept him in the starting lineup for Bound Brook football, basketball, and baseball.

     Our western neighbor liked to beat Bound Brook about as much as we strove to topple the wealthy township schools of Somerset County. Manville was another industrial town on the banks of the Raritan River, though trading asbestos at Johns Manville for our aniline dyes at American Cyanamid. The large Polish population rivaled our Italian one, and many of their fathers had even donned the BBHS red and white before Manville High School was built in the late 1950s. 

     That old man cheering us on from behind the visitor's bench was Norm Matthews, a recent Cyanamid retiree who lived behind our field house on Vosseller Avenue. He'd arrived at our second home game with a jumbo pack of Big Red chewing gum, passing out a cinnamon-spiced stick to each player along our bench just before the first inning.



     "Let's go, Barna!" exhorts Mr. Matthews as the Manville pitcher enters the stretch position and glances at Glen Gulyas leading off of third base, Matt Vischetti from second base, and Tony Izzo at first.

Clang reverberates around the field as Gordon tosses the aluminum bat and the ball soars over the center field bleachers for a grand slam.

"Way to go, Gordy!" whoops our new best fan and supplier of a little baseball magic.



Final score: Bound Brook (3-1) 15 - Manville (4-2) 11




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Chapter 8: Jersey Girls

Image
  Shortstop Veronica Gumerlock takes a pitch      "Tony!" squeals black-haired and tube-topped sophomore Patti Stine from the football bleachers along left field after our third baseman makes a diving catch and then leaps up to jam the tagging-up runner in the chest. "You saved my ass on that one," Sean Doremus grins as he snags Izzo's toss and steps back to the mound, a one-run lead preserved by the solo double play. "Finish 'em off, Sean," trills beautiful junior and future actress Heidi Bohay from behind our happy-go-lucky scorekeeper Sharon Barber as the next Watchung batter steps to the plate in the top of the fifth inning.      It was Sean's first start since a rotator cuff strain, and the rising heat of early June had loosened him up over the first four innings of the Somerset County championship game.  We'd already knocked off longtime rival Somerville, Group 3 Bridgewater East, and highly ranked Immaculata to get to the final.  Th...
Read more

Chapter 9: Enter The Juniors

Image
Junior left fielder Glen Gulyas makes a play at LaMonte Field      “Hey Romanok, be ready to start at third against Ridge today,” murmurs Coach Martin in home room on a hazy Friday morning . “Izzo has to work.” “Sure Coach,” croaks the junior outfielder, masking his shock at being brought up from JV in a new position for the conference championship game. “I need your bat in the lineup,” bawls junior ace Sean Doremus from across the room. “My arm’s sore and we’ll need all the hits we can get.”      Our senior sluggers had carried us through most of that season in which we were averaging eight runs a game. As June arrived one of those big hitters had to leave the team for a summer job that would help his single mom keep their house when her cafeteria job ended. The understandable departure of third baseman Tony Izzo right before the most important game of the year seemed a devastating blow.      Enter the juniors. Outfielders Rob Corsini a...
Read more

Chapter 12: Drained

Image
  Catcher and team leader Matt Vischetti      "Courtesy of Doc Vischetti," explains Frank Sylvester depositing two pitchers on our round wooden table. "Bud if your of age, Coke if your not." "I've got dad's credit card," Matt whispers as he slips his hand over to the dapper proprietor of the South Brook Inn. "And keep those pitchers coming, Frankie!" "Damn right," bellows Tom Moriau, one of the eighteen-year-olds, as he stands and starts pouring the golden lager into each of our stange glasses. "Here's to a great season!"      It was indeed a very good season with the small town team ending up ranked eighth in the state despite the finals loss. Three players, Matt, Sean Doremus , and myself, made all-state first team for Group 1 schools. The team batting average was over .300 led by Matt's astounding .450, which is almost a hit for every two at bats. But after playing extraordinary baseball on those grassy fiel...
Read more