PHOTO: The toughest ball club in town… 35 years ago

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HYANNIS – The memories become weaker and weaker, debilitated by years of hard driven miles, yet worn to perfection...

  

…meaning that I’m blessed with some amazing flashbacks, despite not being able to recollect what I had for breakfast – which wasn’t so good, but that’s another story. 

  

Today’s flashback came after finding an ancient photo of one of the greatest baseball teams in the history of game, the 1973 West Main Shell farm league t-ball champs!

  

1973.

  

It was the year I caught my first baseball, with my face as a matter of fact…  But despite being an inexperienced new comer with a drifting mind – not one kid laughed, not one, not even a chuckle.  Every single player on this remarkable squad was a teammate first and foremost, helping me ‘catch on,’ both then and throughout my entire life to this very day (I could write a book on the countless bonds developed from this one special team).

  

Coach Marqoux (Top left) and Coach Lariviere (Top right) taught us the meaning of teamwork and respect.  In other words, they taught us how to win. 

  

Their secret?

  

Their secret was simple, but effective.  It involved pre-game sticks of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit Gum strategically handed out to each player so we would remember to keep our eyes on the ball.  The coaches preached “chewing and chatter,” lots of “battah-battah sah-wing battah.” The constant gnawing and taunting was suppose to stop our little brains from wandering – it worked!  

  

It was the last time I ever caught a baseball with my face. 

  

Other lessons I’ve carried with me until this day include, “Protect the face, keep swinging, and never ever throw the fight!”

  

But perhaps the most effective top-secret winning strategy was when the coaches promised us all an ice cream cone after each victory, and even sometimes when we didn’t win.  One season, this particular strategy alone helped us go all the way to become undefeated! 

  

Most of the players, almost all in fact, are still around town.  One player, tragically, is no longer with us.

  

The team also produced three players who eventually became ice hockey goaltenders (of all things) for various Kennedy Memorial Youth Hockey teams, as well as high school squads.  They are Doug Carlin (middle, 2^nd row), J.T. Marqoux (3^rd from right, front row), and myself (2^nd from right, 2nd row).

  

Barnstable Police Officer, and homerun slugger (shown here without the Manny Ramirez dreads…2^nd row, 1^st from right), Carl Hill was a major contributor to our steady diet of soft-serve ice cream cones.  When he batted, we all formed a line at the plate to shake his hand, before he even had a chance to swing!

  

Catcher Robbie Manning (rear row, 1^st on left), use to make diving defensive headfirst catches on pure coarse gravel and processed stone!  He currently practices law in Barnstable, making defensive plays of different variety.

  

Deon DeGrace (front row, 1^st on left) was one hell of a fielder and a steady hitter.  

  

“Jack” Hoxie (front row, 2^nd from left) made a multitude of spectacular grabs.

  

Dave Landry (front row, 2^nd from right) was a real life Karate Kid.

  

Peter O’Rourke (middle, front row), use to order “Tootie-Frutie” ice cream!  Which they didn’t have in the beginning, but eventually stocked up on after several other players started requesting the same…

  

I think it use to be called “Frosty Freeze,” or something like that, a little stand on a large vacant dirt lot across from the West Main BP gas station, now Sav-on.  The lot’s now full of condos… broke my heart when they tore the little ice cream stand down. 

  

Schoolyard folklore had it that the hairy-knuckled ice cream shop owner mysteriously appeared from ‘out of the blue’ one day, plunking down a fresh pile cash for ‘the joint,’ one hundred dollar bills from a large suitcase hidden in the trunk of his shiny new Deville.   Words like “mobster,” “laying low,” and being “on the lamb” flew between swing sets... or so the unsubstantiated rumors went.

  

Everyday our school bus passed the mysterious little cash business, to and from Hyannis West Elementary, and everyday the story grew… some say “the mobster” mowed down a rival gang with his Tommy gun – discussions and debates took place on what were the best weapons for mowing down rival gangs… while others believed there were buried bodies to the rear of the lot…

  

But the bottom line was that the ice cream was good, large servings, which was all we really cared about, so we kept our mouths shut, willing accomplices as we continued to murder our own opponents on the field.

  

The season wore on.

  

In the beginning we were issued one ball cap and one shirt just before the opening game.  I wore mine day and night, still would have it on if it suddenly didn’t just up and disintegrate one day around the time I started becoming interested in girls.  But can you imagine how tattered and torn they were?

  

We were a scrappy hard hitting bunch. 

  

Our second reason for attempting to tee off with long fly balls, other than to win games, was to attempt to put one through a windshield parked just past left field; the Hyannis West lot was perpetually loaded with station wagons, you know, the ones with the fake wood on the sides... 

  

Only two players ever came close.

  

And dammit if I wasn’t one of them!

  

Yessah, you’re looking at some of the toughest little ballplayers in town.  Would you dare mess with this bunch?