THE SEASON

  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...

"It's like deja au all over again" -Yogi Berra 1961 (Eric Winchock after our Little League state final loss)      "Hey Mo, got any more hits in that leadoff bat of yours?" queries Glen Gulyas from the back bench of a chartered bus on our team's trip to Mercer County Park. "As many as you do," I brag to cover my nerves, kneeling up on the high-backed seat to peer back at our clutch-hitting left fielder. "We should bet on it," he croaks with a laugh to mask his own stress over another state finals game. "Yeah, whoever gets fewer hits buys all the beer you can drink at Yankee Stadium," I blurt, hoping a little extra incentive would spur us both on. "Here's to that!" he laughs raising his baseball glove like a plastic cup of foamy Schmidt's.     Our first road trip in an air-conditioned coach was impressive, but the luxury of reclining seats and a smooth ride didn't feel like a good omen. We were missing the fa...

Former manager Doug DeGhetto        “So it’s Palisades Park for the final tomorrow,” growls balding former coach Doug DeGhetto from his stool in the dimly lit basement bar at the Rathskeller. “You’se guys better be up for it!” slurs diminutive bar mate Chubby Miranda glancing up from his stein.     The two middle-aged men were well into their cups when Matt, Seps, Stan and I ducked into the old pub to see if we’d be served. Our baseball team had made it to the state title game by thumping Keyport at home in the sectional final, rallying past West Windsor's all-state pitcher Darryl MacPherson for the district championship, and pummeling Palmyra's Cherry twins, Duane on the mound and Deron in centerfield, in the semifinals. The two-week championship run was a total team effort with all pitchers, hitters, and fielders and both seniors and underclassmen making significant contributions. Some of us were blowing off steam on a Friday night when sussed out by Chub...

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...