Chapter 11: All Over Again






"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 familiar hot wind from the open windows of a clanky old Romano's school bus that had taken us to a top ranking in the state. 

     A finals game was also familiar to several of us who'd played and lost a close one five years before in the New Jersey state Little League championship. The pending high school title game against Palisades Park was our chance to finish what we started back then.

     The current season had it's downs with the losses of the county final and our great third baseman, but it had been mostly ups. There were long winning streaks, unexpected titles, and come-from-behind wins including a dramatic one over West Windsor for the district championship. In that game we were trailing four to nothing with no men yet on base going into the sixth inning when our bats exploded for five runs on hits by myself, Glen, Gerard Ortepio, John Romanok, and Mark Geisslinger. The oddity of a luxury bus notwithstanding, we felt poised to bring home the state title.



     "Well the beer's on me," I sigh to Glen who's splayed across the back bench in the gloomy silence of a long bus ride home. "Your triple knocked in our only runs."

"Hey, you were robbed twice," he roars, sitting up for the entire bus to hear.   "That diving catch by their center fielder saved two ribbies and you were safe at first in the seventh!"

"Now guys, we can't change a bad call," croaks Coach Martin standing in the aisle to silence us even though he'd argued on the field for a good five minutes while I stood on the first base bag. "Now that it's over we can all be proud of the best team in Bound Brook history."



Final score: Palisades Park (16-7) 3 - Bound Brook (24-5) 2









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