For many of us growing up, the end of the school year meant summer baseball was right around the corner. Experiences we had back then are cherished memories today. Here’s one of mine.
I grew up in Hackensack, New Jersey, a suburb of New York City. I played organized baseball in Hackensack. Beginning at the age of seven, I played in the Pee Wee League (ages 7-8), Little League (ages 8-10), Babe Ruth League (ages 13-15), Connie Mack, and American Legion ball (ages 16-18), as well as high school varsity ball.
In 1961, when I was eight, our family began vacationing every summer in the Berkshires in western Massachusetts. My father, who worked in Manhattan, allocated his vacation days throughout the summer. He would take Friday off every week, sometimes both Thursday and Friday. While my mother, older sister, and I stayed in the Berkshires all summer, my dad would drive up from New York City on either Wednesday night or Thursday night to spend the long weekends with us.
Courtesy Friends of Lake Garfield
We stayed in a cottage in Monterey, which had a population of 500 the rest of the year but 5,000 in the summer due to vacationers enjoying Garfield and Buel lakes.
Monterey had a Little League team that played against teams from neighboring towns. When my Hackensack Little League season ended, our family left for the Berkshires, and I joined the Monterey team. Even though the town had a huge summer population, I was the only non-native on the team.
The Monterey Little League schedule started and ended later than the Hackensack schedule. So when we arrived in Monterey each summer, the local team had already played several games, but many more remained.
Monterey did not have a Pee Wee League team, unlike the one in Hackensack, for seven- and eight-year-olds. Instead, kids aged eight to twelve formed the Monterey team. The talent level was higher in Hackensack, a city of some 50,000 people, than in Monterey. Fortunately, I was skilled enough at eight years old to earn a starting spot on the squad.
My Monterey teammates had some colorful names – “Thumper” Messer, nicknamed after the Bambi rabbit, and Lanny Lanew.
Mr. Greene lived in a big house near Monterey’s Little League field. An elderly gentleman, still spry, he was not only the caretaker of the field but also the coach of our team. The field was eventually named Greene Field.
Greene Park (named after Mr. Greene) in Monterey, MA (personal photo)
Mr. Greene was a great guy, but his baseball knowledge was suspect. I was a good bunter, but Mr. Greene chose the oddest times to have me bunt. On at least two occasions, he had me bunt with the bases loaded. That is not a good idea in Little League baseball because the runners cannot leave the base until the ball reaches the plate. That means the runner on third cannot get a jump, making it easy for the pitcher to field the bunt and throw home. This also eliminates the suicide squeeze play, where the runner on third takes off for home plate as soon as the pitcher releases the ball.
The second reason a bunt with the bases loaded is not a good idea is that it is a force play at home. The catcher does not have to tag the runner coming in from third base. All the catcher has to do is step on home plate for the force out.
Courtesy Adam Wright on Facebook
So, even at age eight, I thought it odd when Mr. Greene gave me the bunt sign with the bases loaded. True, I was not very big, and maybe he liked my chances of getting on base from a bunt more than my swinging away. In any case, both times I complied and laid down a bunt and lit out for first base. For some reason, both times the bunt was successful. The runner scored from third, and I was safe at first. I have no idea what took place behind me, as my back was to home plate while I was running to first base. Maybe the pitcher bobbled the ball, who knows? In any case, it made Mr. Greene look like a genius.
The other oddity with Mr. Greene was how he instructed us infielders (I was a pitcher and shortstop) to throw the ball to first base. Have you ever seen a submarine ball? A submarine is a pitch in which the ball is released just above the ground, but not underhanded, with the torso bent at a right angle and shoulders tilted so severely that they rotate around a nearly horizontal axis. Did you ever try to throw to first base that way? I was one of the few who were able to do it in practice. We abandoned any effort to do it in the games.
Mr. Greene made another unorthodox move. Whenever I pitched, Timothy Daggett, the son of the local minister, played shortstop. He was a fine fielder, but he was left-handed. There are no left-handed shortstops in the Major Leagues for good reason. A left-handed player can’t make the pivot for a double play when receiving the throw from the second baseman.
Before my last two Little League years, Mr. Greene retired from coaching and was replaced by Mr. Amidon, whose son Phil played on the team. Mr. Amidon never called for a bases-loaded bunt or had us throw submarine style to first base. I welcomed the change.
One highlight of my final year in Monterey Little League was being selected to play in the All-Star game. Before the game, the league held a few fun contests. One featured a wooden oval in the shape of a catcher’s mitt suspended by a metal arm over home plate. Each contestant got three tries from the pitcher’s mound to hit the mitt, which would then swing around on the metal arm. I hit the mitt all three times and won the contest.
To top the day off, I hit the only home run of my Little League career, including my years playing in Hackensack. There was no fence, but I hit the ball to deep right-center field and circled the bases before the fielders could throw home.
