LIP SERVICE

COXON TAKES CT SOCCER TO NEW LEVEL

2011-12-20T13:08:00.001-08:00

HAMDEN – Steve Coxon has been synonymous with soccer in central Connecticut for the better part of two decades.

The native of Newcastle, United Kingdom, first earned acclaim as a player for Central Connecticut State University. He went on to play for the former New Britain-based A-League side, the Connecticut Wolves, turned in an ultra-successful stint as girls coach at Farmington High School and was an assistant coach at Quinnipiac University.

All the while, Coxon was formulating strategy to grab the lead in the field of youth soccer instruction and development, which he has done as one of the founders of the Connecticut Football Club (CFC).

Coxon’s latest endeavor is CFC AZUL, the newest addition to the United Soccer Leagues’ Premier Development League for 2012 and the sole franchise in Connecticut. In addition to being co-owner, Coxon will serve as president. Since the announcement was made Dec. 12, he is diligently working on providing a solid foundation for the club.

“I played in the A-League (now USL PRO, USL’s professional division) for more than six years with the Connecticut Wolves and I learned a great deal about how to run a USL team,” Coxon said.

“Many of my former teammates are still involved in the game and we are going to lean on them and many others in the Connecticut soccer scene to help make this into a top-notch franchise.”

The team has yet to decide on a home venue or coaching staff.

The AZUL will become the pinnacle team in the CFC family, which harbors more than 70 youth teams. Incorporating a PDL team, Coxon said, will enable the CFC’s top players an opportunity to return to the organization during and after competing in college.

The AZUL will play a 16-game schedule between May and August in the PDL, the top supplier of talent for professional soccer in North America.

In 2011, 37 of the 54 players selected in Major League Soccer’s SuperDraft graduated from the PDL. Eight of the first 10 selections in the draft had PDL experience, including 2011 MLS Rookie of the Year C.J. Sapong of Sporting Kansas City, who previously played for Reading United AC.

The team is co-owned by Costas Flessas.

“I believe sometimes things are just meant to happen,” Coxon said.

“Out of the blue I received a phone call from Costas asking me if I was interested in discussing some soccer expansion plans. The next day I received an email form the USL asking us if we were interested in putting a PDL team together. Six months later a new PDL franchise was born and we can't be more excited.”

CFC AZUL will hold open tryouts.

Coxon guided the Farmington High girls to a 116-10-7 record from 1999-2005. The Indians shared a 2003 Class L title with Guilford and defeated Wilton outright to gain the 2005 crown. Farmington advanced to the final four times in Coxon’s seven years.

WINNING IS GREAT BUT PARTICIPATING IS GREATER

2011-12-07T08:43:00.000-08:00

The high school football season ended abruptly for me when Northwest Catholic fell to Cromwell in the Class S semifinals Saturday.

Hall and Conard each earned home-field advantage in the Class LL tournament, but were beaten by teams from the Southwest Conference and FCIAC respectively.

While Northwest was losing in Cheshire, this year’s flag-bearer for the CCC and greater Hartford area – Windsor – was losing to New Canaan in Class L after a last-second field goal. With that fateful kick, the CCC was precluded from any of the four championship games slated for this weekend at Rentschler Field.

I would be remiss if I didn’t relate just where the CCC rests in the football pecking order.

When the lights go out at Rentschler on Saturday night, the CIAC will have awarded 38 championship plaques since 2005. Two have gone to CCC teams. Berlin defeated Bethel for the Class M title in 2009 and Glastonbury won the ‘LL’ crown in 2008.

Since I administer the Connecticut Sports Writers’ Alliance High School Football Poll, I am keenly aware that the 32-member CCC not only falls short of the Southern Connecticut Conference (New Haven area) and the Fairfield County Interscholastic Athletic Conference but also the Southwest Conference. Certainly the Naugatuck Valley League (Waterbury) and the Eastern Connecticut Conference (New London-Norwich) can also claim superiority.

So how important is it that Hall, Conard, Northwest Catholic, Glastonbury, Windsor, Berlin and Rocky Hill all made the playoffs but couldn’t get out of the semifinals? If I was sanctimonious enough to place my own desires above the overall picture, shame on me. Some day I would like to get the chance to cover a title game at Rentschler, but how do my needs stack up against what high school football is really all about?

They don’t amount to a hill of beans.

There is nothing I would like better than to see the local kids standing on top of that hill after the final game. I have experienced the joy that comes from being the best of the best many times on the scholastic scene after 20 years on the beat. But the scholastic sports culture must refrain from placing the standards of the professional and major college ranks on our neighbors’ kids.

High school football, like all team sports played by teenagers on down, provides lessons in how unity, synergy and mutual respect can build something far more satisfying than the accomplishments of any one person. What can be more important for our children to recognize that working together with peers toward a common goal is one of the most significant lessons that high school can teach.

So to the boys of Hall, Conard and Northwest Catholic, the boys at Farmington, which went 9-1 but did not qualify for the playoffs, I raise my glass of well water and say congratulations and thank you.

Congratulations for outstanding achievement on the field of play under the guidance of some of the finest coaches I’ve had the pleasure to have known.

Thank you, because you all go out there for 10 or 11 weeks after spending months in training and you give it your all for your schools and towns, and you give me the pleasure of being able to occupy my time with your noble exploits.

I can watch you play and not miss the game at higher levels, where the human specter of greed hovers over the proceedings like the grim reaper.

I don’t concern myself with the greed-driven machinations of the Big East Conference, which is about to have members on the West Coast. Or Major League Baseball, where men in their 30s demand 10-year contracts at $20 million a year knowing that their self-indulgence will preclude more and more fans from ever being financially capable of attending a game.

Oh, the NBA hasn’t been playing games due to the lockout? Thanks to our hard-working local athletes, I truly didn’t notice. Even if I wasn’t covering games, I can think of no better way to support the community and all things that are good by pulling up a portion of grandstand and cheering on the kids.

Kids, don’t fret that you didn’t win a championship. I’d love to see it happen for you but be proud of what you accomplished, even if you stuck with it on a winless team. You will be a better person for it in the long run, and if our youngsters become better people, life in the USA can only improve.

TEBUCKY'S HONESTY REFRESHING IN BERLIN AFTERMATH

2011-12-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

NEW BRITAIN – The CIAC and school administrators expect high school coaches to keep any uncomplimentary thoughts about how games are officiated away from where the public can consume it.

But there are times in the scholastic realm when the quality of officiating simply falls short. Officials are entitled to the same consideration everyone should receive in regard to human error. We all make them. The folks in stripes ought to be commended for performing tasks that many find distasteful, and most of the time their work is impeccable. Where would our sports be without our officials?

Yet sometimes honesty should prevail.

Those who either did not attend the New Britain-Berlin football game or were too far from the action to formulate an opinion deserve to know what went down.

To start with, the New Britain High football team has absorbed its share of detrimental calls from officials over the years.

I was on the sidelines for virtually every game Jack Cochran coached at New Britain. He was winning games by lopsided scores and rode the officials relentlessly when calls went against him.

It seemed whenever a New Britain player made a long punt or kickoff return, yellow flags would litter the field. The 50-point rule was not in effect then so perhaps officials took it upon themselves to manage the score. The fumes continued through the realm of Cochran’s successor Paul Morrell, who told me several times that he was putting together a film for evaluation.

There’s no way I can confirm that the refs took it upon themselves to manage the score, of course, and I understand why they might consider such action, but the New Britain kids who were achieving were bearing the brunt of the perceived indiscretion. Adults behaving badly? Some saw it that way, and I must admit I did on occasion.

With that as a backdrop, I commend current New Britain coach Tebucky Jones for being candid and honest after the Hurricanes’ 14-7 loss to Berlin on Thanksgiving Eve. He was frank about the calls that hindered his team and the fracas that led officials to clear the field with 1:46 still remaining.

“[The officiating] was horrible,” Jones said. “They always tell us not to get involved with the officiating but you know what? I’m saying it. It was horrible. … You shouldn’t talk about officiating but I’m gonna talk about it. It was bad. They can say what they want to say.”

QUESTIONABLE CALLS: On the fifth play of the game, senior defensive end Jared Boddie was ejected for allegedly throwing a punch. I did not see it, but I saw Boddie’s tears. Was it really so blatant that he couldn’t be warned first? Nobody I talked to actually saw it so I’m not certain about the severity of Boddie’s action.

On the very next play, Berlin’s junior running back Kevin Main threw a haymaker that many did see. It didn’t connect, and it drew an identical 15-yard penalty, but Main was not ejected.

The New Britain sideline led by athletic director Len Corto was incredulous. The game was only three minutes old and the officials had lost control.

“They threw one of our kids out, one of our top players and our best defensive players. They said he threw a punch,” Jones said. “Then their kid – one of their top players – threw a punch, which the whole stadium saw, and he finishes the game. It’s all on film.”

Late in the first quarter, Berlin’s superb wide receiver Tom Undercuffler was covered well on an out pattern. Like many receivers are wont to do when coverage is tight, he created separation with a little shove, most likely without even realizing it. Quarterback Mitch Williams delivered a strike. With the defender down, Undercuffler turned it into a 61-yard catch and run that became a touchdown two plays later.

Late in the third quarter, a punt by Berlin’s Tyler Bouchard struck one of his blockers in the back to give New Britain beneficial field position. NB back Devante Gardner gained 23 yards to give the ’Canes first-and-goal at the start of the fourth quarter.

On second down, Malique Jones broke the plane of the goal line on a quarterback sneak. The ball was spotted three inches short. The Berlin defense stiffened and prevented what would have been the game-tying touchdown.

“We scored on the quarterback sneak and they didn’t call it a touchdown,” Tebucky said. “Push off? You name it, it happened in this game.”

With just under two minutes remaining in the game, Berlin was faced with a third-and-2 at the New Britain 30. A first down would all but end it. Undercuffler ran the ball and rolled when he hit the ground. The play happened right in front of me.

Did Undercuffler make the first down? I would say he did, but the ball was spotted after he rolled, giving the appearance that he made it by two yards or so. New Britain requested a measurement but the chains already had been moved. According to Tebucky, the chief official said the pin hole was still evident, although I would guess there may have been a few pinholes in the mud by that juncture.

“They blew it dead and they were supposed to come out and measure it,” Tebucky said. “He said, they moved the chains already but they said the pin was set in the right place. But it wasn’t. They moved the pin. I said, ‘Well you can’t give them a first down.’ They ended up giving the first down. There were a couple spots like that.”

THE FRACAS: Shortly thereafter, a shoving match between two players evolved into Scene 2 of adults behaving badly.

Coaches came out on the field as the pushing and shoving escalated and proceeded to toss kerosene on the campfire. A video on the Berlin Patch website shows indisputably that Berlin coach John Capodice was rather animated and could be seen gesturing toward Tebucky Jones.

“I just saw two players arguing and it got a little wild,” Jones said. “I was like, ‘Everybody calm down,’ and [Capodice] got smart. He was running like he wanted to fight me. I don’t think he’d want that. He shouldn’t act like that in front of kids. … Instead of trying to break up the kids, he’s running his mouth.”

Berlin was in a kneel-down stage so continuing the game wouldn’t have served any purpose. But the officiating and the fiasco damaged the integrity of a great local sporting event that needs to continue for a long, long time.

Capodice was never a proponent of the so-called Wishbone Bowl due to the size discrepancy between the two schools, but Berlin has won two of the first three encounters. It looms as a great rivalry, if the Berlin people allow it to continue.

“It’s a good thing,” Jones said. “It’s good for the schools but you know what, [Capodice doesn’t] want it. That’s what I think part of it is. [Football] is a tradition in Berlin and New Britain. The town is right there. It should be played every year. It should have been played when I was in high school.”

THE INTERVIEW: After the field was cleared, Tebucky responded to a request from John Pierson of WTNH-TV for an interview.

Pierson asked the tough questions and Jones answered candidly. The interview was still in progress when an adult from the Berlin team pushing a carriage with equipment interrupted the proceedings.

“Tebucky, Tebucky. Why don’t you go after my kid again? You went after my kid,” he shouted, loud enough so Pierson had to alter his interview.

Jones looked at me with a perplexed look on his face.

“What’s he talking about?” Jones said.

And with that the curtain came down on a hard-fought game that Berlin deserved to win. Maybe next year we’ll get a game that’s better officiated and perhaps the adults can set a better example for the fine lads who play the game.

THE PLIGHT OF COMMUNITY JOURNALISM

2011-09-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

I really wonder where my beloved domain of community journalism is headed.

We all know why print journalism is like a lobster about to hit the boiling water. When the internet came along, having a website was prestigious and getting people to hit it an ego trip. The newspapers started giving away the stories for which consumers traditionally paid, and didn’t mind doing so.

When consumers get something for nothing, they aren’t likely to start paying for it.

I learned that the hard way when the owners of the minor league baseball team I administered in Glens Falls, N.Y., started giving away tickets in wholesale bunches. Ownership’s theory, since it was in the Burger King business, was that we would cash in at the concession stand; that empty seats don’t buy hot dogs and sodas.

What they didn’t consider is that the price of admission has almost no overhead and once you give it away, people lose respect for the product. Even if you get $1 a ticket, you’re still making consumers open their wallets. The ticket has some value.

Giving tickets away at the bottom of Burger King bags was like saying the game had no value. Giving the hard work of reporters away was like saying their work has no value. People said, “Why should I pay for the paper when I can go on line and get the information free?”

So how did the newspapers compensate for the dramatic downturn in revenue? Did the CEOs take pay cuts. Nooo! They cut back on reporters, cutting off the resource that enticed consumers to subscribe. They froze their wages, sending them to the exits to find better means of using their skills to make a living.

The papers in major cities, while they may be hurting, continue to thrive, but what of the small-city dailies that were the heart and soul of their regions for over 100 years? Some have perished. Others altered their philosophy, choosing to hire so-called reporters at bargain-basement prices and filling their whittled-down publications with the worst kind of trash.

Reporters are now paid paupers’ wages and asked to work well beyond the traditional 40 hours per week. The papers get what they pay for. Many of the new guard are egomaniacs who resort to filling sports sections with stories about THEIR favorite teams and telling readers what THEIR winning percentage is in picking college football games.

Some actually solicit controversy, providing an online forum for anonymous readers to rip on high school coaches and athletes. They publish inane readers’ comments while high school athletes toil in anonymity.

Where does that leave the legitimate need for local information? America On-Line started its Patch websites, which continue to evolve. Folks interested in local news and sports are beginning to understand that Patch is becoming more reliable than the dailies and timelier than the weeklies, although the weeklies certainly have their place. There are some great ones in the region.

Many fine journalists are now working for Patch and doing great jobs in a number of communities. Whether the model that AOL has established can be profitable is yet unknown. Consumers with an interest in local news better hope so. I hope so for the sake of all the terrific writers/reporters who used to populate daily newsrooms and always did their jobs thoroughly.

Some journalists I know have set up their own websites to share information. I wish them well and respect their intentions. Perhaps they can find a way to earn some cash for the time they are putting in. There aren’t enough hours in the day to make a living, write stories and solicit advertising on a medium that seems more difficult to sell, particularly in an economy with businesses failing in alarming numbers.

The bottom line is that the business of community journalism is evolving. It’s likely to continue evolving for years to come, long after I retire my laptop. My concern is that the awesome young athletes who give their hearts and souls for their schools will get proper recognition, not a litany of either no information or misinformation with error-filled reports and misspelled names.

BACK IN NEW BRITAIN, AND LOVIN' IT

2011-09-09T10:44:00.000-07:00

To my dear friends in New Britain:

It hasn't been easy driving through the city since late last November, knowing that I was no longer writing stories for y'all. My writing comes from the heart, and you know the thousands of stories I wrote over 15 years at the Herald, speak to the passion I have for the kids, the coaches and the people who make sports news in the city.

Well, I'm back, but don't look in the Herald for me! I'm writing for a weekly paper, the New Britain City Journal, that was started by Robin Vinci and is doing very well. The NBCJ hasn't had much in the way of sports so we decided that collaborating was a win-win proposition.

Below is my first effort for Robin and her loyal readers. You'll see plenty on New Britain football, that wonderful boys soccer team that Matt Denecour has assembled, and all the other fall sports. I still have my ear to the ground with the Rock Cats and perhaps we'll connect on them next season. Look forward to hearing from you.

The intangible characteristic that depicts sports tradition in New Britain as time-honored beyond most is best described by a French saying that has found a niche in English because English scholars cannot find a better way to say it.

Je ne sais quoi.

A less elegant way of saying it is that when it comes to sports, New Britain has that “certain something.” Translated literally, it means, “I don’t know what,” but since I wrote sports in New Britain on a daily basis for 15 years, I DO know what. I don’t know exactly why, but I’ll give you the particulars.

It has to start with New Britain High School football.

I first felt that je ne sais quoi on Nov. 24, 1999 at Manchester High School. It may seem unusual that I never felt it to such an extent at Hurricane-charged Veterans Memorial Stadium, but such eerie forces generally cannot be explained.

The Hurricanes of Coach Len Corto – the steamrolling ground game provided by senior Chris Bellamy and sophomore Justise Hairston, the leadership of able quarterback Mike Donnelly, a couple of Madigans and thundering fullback Steve Wysocki – were on a roll. They dropped a 27-26 decision at Southington in the season’s second game, but just whipped up unmercifully on people for the next seven weeks.

In my heart and mind, New Britain had the best team in the state, yet with the Manchester game on the horizon, the Hurricanes needed help to get into the Class LL playoffs and the prospects were too far-fetched. Three undefeated teams and several once-beaten squads had mathematical advantages in the CIAC ratings race that only a series of unfathomable upsets could change. Help wasn’t coming.

The game against Manchester had already begun. My wife Lisa, a 1973 NBHS grad with a heart of (maroon and) gold, was in attendance. I never saw her so excited for a game, and that certainly shaped my emotional composition.

Far off in the distance, at the other end of the parking lot, it rose like a crescendo. The New Britain High School Golden Hurricane Marching Band had run into some Hartford traffic, but the unmistakable sound of “Bingo” pierced the night air.

As Bellamy, Hairston and Wysocki were in the midst of rolling up over 250 yards and nine touchdowns, I felt a trickle down my cheek. Wow, I knew I cared, but I didn’t know I cared that much. “Bingo,” and the band marching into the stadium has some deep-seated ethereal effect on me.

Well, New Britain’s 58-0 victory wasn’t enough for a playoff berth. The Hurricanes had outscored their foes 316-12 over the final six weeks, and that wasn’t enough either.

Masuk, Fairfield Prep and eventual champion Greenwich finished their seasons undefeated. Southington notched the fourth and final spot despite losing to Cheshire on Thanksgiving Day. New Britain was a staggering seventh in the ratings, but that day the Hurricanes sealed the number one slot in my heart.

Five years later, as Coach Jack Cochran drove the ’Canes toward their third ‘LL’ title in four years, I had another experience that convinced me just how special New Britain football is.

The date was Nov. 30, 2004. New Britain ventured to Kennedy Stadium in Bridgeport to play Bridgeport Central in the semifinals. I got there good and early as I always try to do and was introduced to a man who personifies extreme dedication to NBHS football.

Eugene Johnkoski, 79 at the time, had relocated to Palm City, Fla., from the Hardware City in 1994. He missed his New Britain football so much that he would return home every fall to take his place among the Willow Brook Park faithful.

I can’t recall exactly what Mr. Johnkoski told me that chilly night in Bridgeport when I asked him why he did this, but it was something along the lines of, “Je ne sais quoi.”

A LITTLE HARD-HITTIN' IN THE GREEN MTNS

2011-08-18T18:27:00.000-07:00

We’re cruisin’ Route 4 West in Vermont, just entering Killington at the junction of Rte. 100 after visiting Queechee Gorge and Woodstock, and we’re hungry.

We see this down-home lookin’ sign. It’s a smilin’ pig with sunglasses, fork and knife in hand, sayin’ something to the effect that if you like BBQ, don’t go any farther. Well, we’d had burgers, we had shrimp at Pagliacci’s in Plainville before we left and it’s been less than a week since we went to Manchester (CT) for Pepe’s apizza.

Ribs. Yes. Time for ribs, and we’re gonna follow that little piggy all the way home.

The place was called Back Behind Restaurant, and it’s a good thing. You’ve got to go back behind a red caboose to find it down in a little hollow. Might not have found it otherwise. Lots of cars there, always a good sign. Always remember when you’re going to a place you don’t know – if none of the locals are eating there, why the heck should you?

I walk in the place and for those of you who know anything about yours truly, baby you know what I like. There’s an old-fashioned décor, 50s and earlier. I look on the wall and staring back at me is a photo of Errol Flynn, lookin’ handsome as he ever did.

I ask a few teenagers in front of me in line, ‘Who is this guy, kids?’ One of ‘em said Matthew McConaghey. The other said she couldn’t remember his name but he was in the first Harry Potter. Heaven forbid on both accounts. Try watching a real movie, like Robin Hood, The Sea Hawk, Captain Blood. Try understanding what acting is all about, brat.

I look a little further and there’s Bogie and Ingrid Bergman, doin’ their thing in “Casablanca.”

Ricky Nelson is playin' on the juke box. "It's a Young World." Perfect!

We sit down and the owner comes to the table and tells us about all the homemade stuff they do. I look in the menu and see that her name is Zendzian. Hmm, Zendzian, Zendzian. I know that name from somewhere, I think during my time writing sports for the New Britain Herald. Well, I’m a year and a day from being 60 so you can’t expect the memory to be that sharp.

The waitress -- why do they call themselves ‘server’ now. Sounds like the thing that always used to break down when the Herald computers stopped working – brings out a crock of homemade coleslaw and freshly baked bread.

I went it to the lav to wash up and whose pic is on the door? Mr. James Cagney, of course. Yankee Doodle Dandy. Awesome, this is my kind of place. On the door to the ladies’ room is noneother than Paulette Goddard, intriguing brunette who lit up men’s fancies in a bygone era. Man, I couldn’t have decorated the place any better if I did it myself.

I was jonesin’ for an ear of local corn for a week, wondering why most restaurants wouldn’t just buy a bushel and make folks happy. Sure enough, they were dealing in roasted corn with special butter. I had mine with maple butter. Hey, man, this is Vermont where maple syrup is in every store.

Unbelievable. I was smiling for the first time since I walked out of the West Hartford Press knowing I wouldn’t have to work there anymore.

Lisa had St. Looey style ribs and I had the baby backs. Both fall-off-the-bone good. Smoked right in their backyard. You can smell ‘em smokin’ as you drive by.

The owner is talkin’ to some other people and darned if she isn’t from CT.

I said, “You from New Britain?”

She proundly answered, “Hard-hitting!”

“I used to write sports at the Herald.

“Bart?”

“No, my dear buddy Bart came before me. I’m Ken. Ken Lipshez.”

“Lipshitz?”

“No, not the furniture store people. Not the doc in Rug Rats or the teacher in that Boston high school sit com. How do I know your name? For some reason, the first name Kurt comes to mind.”

“That’s my husband’s nephew.”

“Holy shit. Small world.”

I think Kurt Zendzian played sports at Newington.

Turns out her name is Gerry Zendzian and her husband’s is Conrad. She went to Mary Immaculate Academy. They came to VT about 10 years ago and started firing up BBQ right behind Bear Mountain. I’ll bet those skiers can’t get enough of that wonderful stuff when snow covers things up here.

We had no room for dessert. We just smiled and rubbed our bellies as we made our way back to where we are staying – Mountain Top Inn in Chittenden, VT – where you look out the window of your room and see a panoramic view of a lake framed by the mountains of the Green Mountain State Forest.

Only two days but it’s been great. I wonder if Gerry Zendzian needs a kitchen boy.

MATT HURLOCK: THE LEGACY LIVES ON

2011-07-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

The sad news jumped off the page like a knife between my ribs. Cancer caught up with Matt Hurlock Wednesday.

Hurlock was 39. His work with student-athletes in Coventry was legendary. My respect for his accomplishments as coach of the girls volleyball team was immense. Not only did he lift the Patriots to the heights of Class S (7 championships), his teams consistently flirted with the No. 1 spot among state high schools large and small.

I first met Matt in 2006 when his Coventry High boys basketball team had the dubious task of trying to derail the Berlin juggernaut led by Doran Mitchell. His Patriots had the higher seed in a quarterfinal matchup at Plainville's Ivan Wood Gym, but Berlin cruised by 31 points. The Redcoats went on to win what was temporarily known as a Class III state title.

When Hurlock's volleyball teams were sparring with the great Southington squads for state recognition, he was a sports writer's dream, responding to all inquiries and answering questions thoughtfully. His response always reflected his innate desire of promoting his hard-working youngsters and the sport of volleyball, for that was the essence of Matt Hurlock. He helped kids.

Hurlock, who according to my esteemed Hartford Courant colleague and treasured friend Lori Riley had the unthinkable volleyball record of 208-19, took a program that languished in the obscurity of one of the state's more obscure conferences (the small-school dominated North Central Connecticut Conference) and built a firm foundation based on work ethic and pride. The Patriots were 6-12 in his first season -- 2001 -- but were atop Class S two years later when the seeds he planted and nurtured with tough love blossomed beautifully.

I ventured to the Patriots' gym for matches with Southington in 2008 and again last October, when the knowledge of Hurlock's fight for life became public. In between those decisive Coventry victories, the Blue Knights ended the Patriots' 84-match winning streak in October of 2009.

Hurlock could have been sullen like so many successful coaches who hit a bump in the road. With his players shedding tears by the gallon, he was extremely respectful of the Southington players and the work of their magnificent coach Rich Heitz.

Hurlock displayed the same poise when he learned of the illness that would take his life. He leaves his wife Julie and their two young children, but leaves them with a legacy that should fill them with unparallelled pride. Matt Hurlock galvanized a community around a simple volleyball net and some lines on a gymnasium floor. In my book, that qualifies him as a miracle-worker.

Matt Hurlock's selfless enthusiasm has been infused in those he touched -- players, parents, assistants and fellow coaches alike. His family should know that his spirit will live on in the hearts and minds of all those he met. Count me among them.

WHAT JULY 4 MEANS TO ME

2011-07-04T20:02:00.000-07:00

The fixated motorist flies by on the right. He weaves in and out of traffic, totally obsessed with his own needs, caring nothing about those around him.

One car he passes nearly swerves off the road. The elderly gentleman was stunned. He remembers when he had some maverick in him but his energy was spent in a different way.

His knuckles weren’t always gnarled with arthritis. It didn’t seem that long ago when things like bifocals and hearing aids were foreign to him.

This man didn’t have the chance to freewheel around when he was trapped between puberty and maturity. He was on a transport carrying him and others his age onto the shores of Normandy, an agent of the free world trying to hold back the sinister arm of tyranny during the dark days of World War II.

The motorist is impervious to the benefits of living in the land of the free. He takes it for granted, pushing safety laws to the limit to satisfy his own needs.

It’s July 4. America is celebrating its 235th birthday. The aging WWII vet is the latest in a long line of freedom fighters dating back to the early days of the American Revolution, when so many gave their lives so that future generations could be free.

Does the motorist, or any of his generation, ever take the time to comprehend how our freedom evolved?

Greedy athletes line up against greedier team owners over financial matters in two of our major professional sports.

The athletes in the NFL and NBA get more and more. The owners want more and more. Lawyers and agents instigate more and more so they can get a bigger piece of the pie. The people pay more and more, making the football and basketball arenas playthings for the wealthy.

None of them give a hoot about the people.

Do any of them stop on July 4 to pay their respects to those who have made it possible to get ridiculously wealthy playing children’s games? How many of them even know the significance of the date?

I wish I could answer that they do, but I don’t think so.

The night crackles with the sound of fireworks going off all around.

The Fourth of July. They have it circled on the calendar in their minds. Fireworks, boom, yeh!

But do they know why they’re shooting off fireworks on this day? How much do they know about what they’re celebrating?

Some of them may remember the history book highlights, no matter how vague or even misleading they may be.

Paul Revere made that ride, right? President George Washington, first man in the White House? Not exactly. Ben Franklin? Five dollar bill, but there are many more reasons he’s pictured there other than flying a kite.

What about Thomas Paine? Daniel Morgan? Nathaniel Greene? There may not be one in 100 who knows about any one of them, and one in 5,000 probably couldn’t identify them all, but there almost certainly would be no speeding motorists, no professional athletes and no fireworks on Fourth of July without any one of them.

Who are they? If you can get out your Google to find out when the latest stupid movie with robots and fire is coming out, you can Google them.

So, what’s the point?

Well, maybe it’s because U.S. history resonates deeply with me. Maybe it’s because you start to think about your own mortality when your age reaches grandfatherly proportions and you want to pass on what you’ve learned. Maybe it’s because things haven’t exactly gone well for me lately and I’m looking for some sort of escape.

It’s probably a little of all three, but I decided that I would take a good portion of time this Independence Day to reflect on those who have sacrificed so I could grow up basking in the glow of freedom.

I attended an afternoon of patriotic music and festivities Sunday that the Farmington Historical Society graciously staged. A troubadour with deep historical roots named Tom Cullinan sang songs including “Rally ’Round the Flag” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” He spoke reverently about those who have served our nation, who numbered eight at the event.

I sang when I knew the words. The thoughts that passed through my mind dampened my cheeks. One woman had the foresight to bring two young boys. Hopefully the event will be etched deeply in their minds so they can pass the spirit along to the next generation.

Independence Day. The Fourth of July. The day means everything to me, it should mean everything to you and I don’t mean the procurement of fireworks, scoffing multiple burgers and keeping the beer cold.

TURNAROUND IS FAIR PLAY FOR CATS

2011-05-21T13:00:00.000-07:00

Many of the New Britain Rock Cats’ names are the same.

Nobody signs high-priced free agents to improve Double-A baseball teams, so that isn’t the answer. There hasn’t been an influx of talent deemed to be can’t-miss major league. Neither have the parent Minnesota Twins significantly altered their philosophy of promoting young players to this lofty level on the game’s developmental scale, such as the New York Yankees and Toronto Blue Jays are prone to do.

So how, then, can a team that finished buried so deep in last place among Eastern League teams in 2010 that even an archeological dig couldn’t locate it have reversed their fortunes so quickly? The New Britain Rock Cats were 44-98 last year. The stately EL hadn’t recorded a team that unsuccessful since the Utica Braves tortured fans in central New York with a 37-101 debacle in 1943.

But as the 2011 season veered through the month of May, neither horrors of the past nor a disproportionate slew of player transactions due in large part to injury at the major league and Triple-A levels have deterred our Cats. With the month at its halfway point Sunday, manager Jeff Smith had his boys tied for first place in the Northern Division at 22-13.

New Britain’s humble skipper doesn’t have a Narcissistic bone in his body. He doesn’t take credit for success any more than he should be blamed for last year’s failure. The one-time Rock Cats catcher provides the kind of even-keel leadership for which the large majority of players yearn.

The answer is multifold. Smith talked about the defense. He praised the starting rotation and the bullpen. He loves the way his hitters are approaching their at-bats. But he said a huge part of the equation is the intangible qualities of peer leadership and clubhouse chemistry.

“The big thing is we’ve had some guys step up with good leadership and it’s been a fun start to the season,” Smith said May 13 after the Rock Cats vanquished the struggling Red Sox farm club, the Portland Sea Dogs, in a crisply played 2-0 game before nearly 7,300 at New Britain Stadium.

“There are a lot of guys. The returning guys – (first baseman/left fielder Chris) Parmelee’s been real good out there, we have a lot of pitchers who have stepped up. I think the addition of Mike Hollimon, too, has been terrific for this team in the clubhouse and on the field, too.”

Hollimon, at 28, is older than the vast majority of Rock Cats past and present. After an All-Star season with Erie (EL) in 2007 and an 11-game stint with the Detroit Tigers the next year, injuries and subsequent surgeries on both shoulders limited him in 2009 and 2010.

He played independent ball last year after the Tigers released him in March. The Twins signed him in December, hoping he would add a veteran presence to a team that is always among the youngest and least experienced in the league. Hollimon was unaware just how bad 2010 was for the Rock Cats.

“When I saw the roster, in my head I was thinking we’ve got a chance to be really good,” Hollimon said. “Trust me, there are going to be a lot of guys from this team that are going to be playing in the big leagues. I was excited.”

He found that the team that broke spring training was a good group of guys.

“It’s mind-boggling because the chemistry in this clubhouse is fantastic,” Hollimon added. “I feel like everybody gets along. I don’t see any cliques. The pitchers aren’t staying with themselves. The infielders aren’t staying with themselves. Everyone’s together.

“I know for a fact that it’s a key ingredient for becoming a winning team. You have to pull for each other, and really pull for each other with your whole heart.”

With the chemistry in place, every aspect of play has been solid.

“It’s been a fun start, regardless of wins and losses,” Smith said.

Hollimon, Chris Cates and Steve Singleton have shared the shortstop slot. Combined with Yangervis Solarte at second, there’s strength up the middle.

Through Saturday’s doubleheader sweep of the Portland Sea Dogs (the Red Sox farm club), Solarte is second in the league in batting at .362. Parmelee, a 2006 first-round draft pick with a sweet left-handed swing, is eighth in the circuit at .326 and third in RBI with 24.

Outfielder Joe Benson leads in homers with four and Singleton, despite spending 10 days in Triple-A, has three.

“Regardless whether you get a lot of hits or not, one of the most important things is how you grind out at-bats,” Smith said. “Are you going to give them away? They’ve done a really good job. … The guys have kind of fed off each other and when you do that, it makes the lineup pretty deep.”

From a pitching perspective, right-hander Cole DeVries, 26, was 8-19 with a 5.15 ERA and gave up 26 homers in 206 innings in two years with the Rock Cats as a starter and reliever.

This year in the closer’s role, DeVries has converted all eight save chances and has a 1.59 ERA in 12 appearances.

“He’s been lights-out at the end of our games,” Smith said.

Staten Island’s Bobby Lanigan is 4-2 with a 2.61 ERA in seven starts to pace the starting rotation. Australian-born Liam Hendriks is 3-1 with a 3.66 and Steve Hirschfeld is 2-0 with a 2.08.

So how have the Rock Cats turned it around? It’s impossible to pinpoint one reason but there can be no doubt that Smith all his factors in place as May plays out.

A ROSE GREW IN WEST HARTFORD

2011-05-14T08:25:00.000-07:00

Passing stories from generation to generation is an inherent human trait, I guess. Whether the tales are exaggerated a little or a lot, history is built upon their foundations.

The desire to weave yarns seems to grow as a person ages.

I remember sitting on my grandpa’s knee listening to him spin anecdotes of his childhood in the Ukraine, how a Cossack on horseback swept through his town brandishing a sword and left a gash on his father’s neck. Great-grandma stitched it up with a needle and thread.

But before I digress as I’m prone to do, allow me to relate a West Hartford tale of my very own, which of course revolves around my beloved game of baseball.

The story begins Monday afternoon, May 2, at the first high school game I ever covered at the nicely maintained Hall High School baseball field in the far corner of that sweeping complex.

Hall, in its injury-depleted state, was hosting Newington, the details of which are available elsewhere within these pages. The Warriors’ Stephen Ranieri had a career day, logging a strong start on the mound and blasting a home run. Even in the wake of the hard-to-swallow extra-inning loss, it was hard for him to be too forlorn as he and his teammates did some groundskeeping.

With participation in baseball dwindling at the high school level, I found it particularly important to let Stephen – his mom stresses intently that it is not to be spelled Steven – know that I appreciated his effort. As I began to recognize his love for the game, I decided to tell him about the first time I covered a baseball game at the Hall complex.

First, I went into my wallet and extracted a baseball card of myself when I was general manager of the Eastern League’s Glens Falls Tigers in 1988. The card, thinned and frayed at the edges by more than 20 years on my person, displayed a scrawled autograph across the bottom still very visible.

I asked Stephen if he could identify the autograph. That wasn’t fair. A 17-year-old baseball fan lives in the land of Derek Jeter and Big Papi, far different from the one I lived in when I was a teen awestruck by the game. I would have recognized the autograph in a heartbeat, with that bulbous “P” at the front of the first name and the equally bulbous “R” beginning the last name.

Well, the game that day wasn’t baseball in its truest form.

I was working for the Bristol Press at the time. My days working as an administrator in the Eastern League were over. My attempts to find myself professionally hit a few dead ends so I decided I wanted to go back to my roots. Sportswriting was something I wanted since I sat on grandpa’s knee.

Bristol sports editor Keith Freeman had given me a few freelance opportunities when he saw that Pete Rose was coming to West Hartford to participate in a benefit softball game organized by the late, great sports promoter Syd Conn. West Hartford is well outside Bristol’s jurisdiction but Keith knew how much I loved Rose and the Cincinnati Reds, so he gave me the chance of a lifetime. The date was August 25, 1991.

The game was played in a roughed-out diamond fanning out from the southwest corner of Chalmers Stadium. There he was, larger than life, aptly decked out in a red jersey. His playing days had ended in 1986 and his managerial reign three years later. He was a little thicker around the middle, but still looked like he could step up to the dish from the right or left side and rifle a base hit into a gap.

The indomitable Rose pride was evident in his actions and his words but it was his showmanship which provided the gathering with another perspective of Major League Baseball’s all-time hit leader.

At one point, his team – Conn’s Kings – being waylayed by Peter Pan Café, Rose blurted out, “Where’s (former Reds closer and Southington native Rob) Dibble when I need him?” When a youngster dropped a ball he had just autographed (at no charge), Rose quipped, “Hey kid, do you eat with those hands?” Vintage stuff.

Rose’s banishment from Hall of Fame induction by late Commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti because of his gambling addiction was in the news. His words that day reflected what has since become public knowledge, but at that time he was denying he bet on baseball. His confession came years later in his book, “My Prison Without Bars.”

“I believe deep down that the Commissioner of baseball (Fay Vincent at the time) understands that I made some mistakes,” Rose told me. “He’s a fair man, an honest man. I’m totally convinced of that in my mind.

“There’s no personal vendetta that the Commissioner has lodged against me. I just did some things I shouldn’t have done. I shouldn’t have bet on those other sports. I did it. I admitted to it and that’s why I was suspended from baseball. I think the Commissioner of baseball will be a fair man, though.”

Stephen listened to my abridged version of the story intently. His open-mouthed reaction to what I told him was of great reward to me. I learned that when you can no longer stroke a baseball like Stephen can, you have to resort to the only means available to an old sports writer – the stories. Grandpa, I know how you feel.

CATS GRADS ABOUND IN MLB

2011-05-06T10:12:00.000-07:00

The kind of baseball the New Britain Rock Cats play tends to be unevenly judged by the sport’s casual observers.

“It’s good,” some say, “but I’d rather watch professional baseball.”

That, of course, is a totally incorrect observation. The Rock Cats and all the teams they play in the Eastern League ARE professionals. They play for pay, obviously not anywhere near what their major league brethren pull down, and anybody that is paid for a service they perform is a professional.

But this goes beyond semantics.

While they are pros, the Rock Cats are not major leaguers. They don’t possess the name recognition that reverberates across the sports universe because nobody chronicles their every move on and off the field like the 24/7 media tend to do in the big time, particularly in New York and Boston.

Joe Mauer has surged to the forefront of baseball’s elite.

The Minnesota Twins star, the first American League catcher ever to win a batting title, has become a Madison Avenue icon beyond his record-shattering accomplishments on the field. The phrase, “Well played, Mauer,” uttered in an EA Sports advertisement by spokesman/comedian Kevin Butler, has become embedded in contemporary sports jargon.

Mauer’s latest foray into the marketing world has him trading barbs with the Pittsburgh Steelers’ legendary All-Pro cornerback Troy Polamalu to promote the virtues of Head and Shoulders Shampoo.

On June 15, 2003, Joe Mauer was en route from Class A to the New Britain Rock Cats. He distinguished himself here by hitting .341 in 73 games and leading the team to the EL playoffs.

Mauer is the flag-bearer for former Rock Cats who have gone on to bigger and better things. With that in mind, I pose the following trivia question: How many former Rock Cats players were on major league rosters when the 2011 season started?

I’ll let you ponder that as I ramble on about a few other Rock Cats alumni who have stirred the MLB pot.

Many of you are Red Sox fans. Did you know one of your beloved and most regaled Beantown boys once launched majestic moon shots among the willow trees beyond the right field wall at New Britain Stadium?

David Ortiz was not “Big Papi” when he hit .322 with 14 homers and 56 RBI in 69 games for the Rock Cats in 1997.

That was the Rock Cats’ third season. Prior to their birth in 1995, Red Sox prospects roamed adjacent, outdated Beehive Stadium. Think for a moment how unbelievable it is that one former New Britain Red Sox player remains active in the major leagues.

Matt Stairs, 43, is a left-handed pinch-hitting specialist for the Washington Nationals, playing for his 13th major league organization. In 1994, he gave an indication of the hitting machine he would become when he hit .309 in 93 games with New Britain.

Even more amazing is that another ex-Britsox player is in Triple-A, biding his time in the hope of getting yet another chance to compete in the majors. Ron Mahay, then an outfielder, played in eight games for the 1993 New Britain entry and hit .120. The left-hander wisely switched to pitching, which he has done for eight big league clubs since 1997.

So how many ex-Rock Cats were on MLB rosters on opening day 2011? Eight? How about 15?

Try 32.

Seventeen made the natural progression through the Twins farm system to Minnesota, among them slugging first baseman and AL MVP Justin Morneau.

Morneau was in New Britain awaiting the EL championship series against the Reading Phillies when 9/11 changed our lives. The next year, he hit .298 with 16 homers and 80 RBI in 126 games here before advancing.

Twins aside, the Chicago White Sox and San Diego Padres lead the majors in ex-Rock Cats.

Pale Hose catcher A.J. Pierzynski played in our midst in 1998 and 2000. Jesse Crain, perhaps the most impressive pitcher to wear the smiling cat on his hat, had a 0.69 ERA with 56 strikeouts and 10 walks in 39 innings in 2003.

San Diego’s Jason Bartlett emerged as one of the two best shortstops to regale the New Britain infield (Cristian Guzman was the other) when he posted a .296 average with 41 stolen bases in 2003. Sidearming right-handed reliever Pat Neshek, a New Britain bullpen staple in 2003-04, is also with the Pads.

Another ex-Cat of note, Torii Hunter, still plies the outfield for the Los Angeles Angels after laying the foundation for his defensive prowess for parts of three seasons (1996-98) on New Britain’s south side.

And how about Kyle Lohse, the right-hander with the live arm but shaky mound presence, who went 3-18 with a 6.04 ERA for the 2000 Cats? At last look, Lohse was holding down one of the top spots in the St. Louis Cardinals’ rotation and earning in the neighborhood of $12 million a year.

In addition to Mahay, there were 26 former Cats in Triple-A toiling for their chance to reap those kinds of riches. Among them is the standard-bearer of the Rock Cats’ All-Name team, right-handed hurler Boof Bonser. Boof, 12-9 with a 4.37 ERA for the 2004 Cats, bounced around the bigs for a few years and hopes to make it back with the Mets.

For you Red Sox fans who say they won’t come to the games because they aren’t interested in the Twins, Matt Fox is pitching for Triple-A Pawtucket after going 9-9 with a 3.58 ERA in 28 games for the 2009 Cats. If one of the Sox starters should be incapacitated, a former Rock Cat could possibly hold Boston’s playoff aspirations in his right hand.

Hey, stranger things have happened.

CATS' SOLARTE IS E.L. PLAYER OF THE WEEK

2011-05-03T11:37:00.000-07:00

New Britain Rock Cats outfielder/second baseman Yangervis Solarte has been named the Eastern League Player of the Week for the period from April 25 through May 1, the league announced Tuesday.

The switch-hitting Solarte, 23, batted .448 (13-for-29) with five doubles, two home runs, nine RBI and an .828 slugging percentage in seven games last week.

He began the week by going 3-for-5 with a homer in a 9-2 New Britain win against the New Hampshire Fisher Cats. He went on to get at least one hit in each of the seven games and currently has a nine-game hitting streak.

Through the week, Solarte led all EL hitters in batting, runs, RBI, and total base (24), and was tied for first in hits with 13. He is tied for the EL lead in hits (31) and extra-base hits (14) for the season. The native of Valencia, Venezuela, ranks second in batting (.373) and total bases (50), and is tied for second with 11 doubles.

Last season, Solarte hit a combined .301 in 77 games between advanced Class A Fort Myers and New Britain. He began the season in the Florida State League, where he batted .330 in the first 24 games and earned a May 12 promotion to Double-A.

He was placed on the disabled list with a knee injury June 21. He was reactivated August 10 and finished the season with Fort Myers. He ended the season with an eight-game hitting streak and was third on the team in batting (.320 in 45 games).

Solarte entered the season a lifetime .270 hitter in five professional seasons.

The last player of the week for the rock Cats was last July when 1B/OF Chris Parmelee earned the recognition.

The parent Minnesota Twins signed Solarte as a non-drafted free agent on June 16, 2005.

BETTER DAYS FOR CATS BUT TWINS SUFFERING

2011-04-29T16:53:00.000-07:00

For those of us who didn’t know already, we learned in the sordid 2010 chapter of New Britain Rock Cats baseball that winning ballgames at the minor league level ranks pretty low on the importance meter.

What the Minnesota Twins took to the bank wasn’t the 44-98 debacle that reduced the Rock Cats to an Eastern League punching bag.

The silver lining that framed the cloud over New Britain Stadium included the continued development of center fielder Ben Revere, the rapid growth of right-handed starting pitcher Kyle Gibson and the sharp upward turn in the careers of multi-talented Joe Benson and sweet-swinging left-handed hitting Chris Parmelee.

The virus that left the Rock Cats as the worst Double-A team in baseball and the worst in the Eastern League in 67 years has surfaced in Minnesota. The Twins at this writing have the worst record in the American League after being torched twice in one day, at home by the Tampa Bay Rays.

So what have the Twins, a team guided by exceptionally astute and equally benevolent administrators from top to bottom, done to incur the wrath of the baseball deities? That’s a rhetorical question, Twins and Rock Cats fans. Answers are not readily available.

Let’s review the facts.

Justin Morneau, on the cusp of a brilliant career, loses half the 2010 season to a concussion that obviously included complications that only his neurologist can accurately relate. The good news is that the Canadian-born slugger is back and showing signs of regaining the prominence that has stuffed his trophy case.

Under the same heading – weird and unfortunate injuries – we have Joe Mauer, trying desperately to put what doctors say is bilateral leg weakness behind him when he gets struck down by a viral infection.

Between games of Thursday’s doubleheader from hell, he addressed the media and was quoted by Twin Cities media as saying that he thought the leg weakness would dissipate as spring training became regular season, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way. His return remains in question.

General Manager Bill Smith dips into Japanese baseball and pays big cash to sign infielder Tsuyoshi Nishioka. Nishioka sustains a broken fibula before anybody can begin to assess what kind of impact he can have.

Outfielder Delmon Young, fresh off a sensational season that quelled chatter that the Twins’ 2007 trade which dispatched former Rock Cats Matt Garza and Jason Bartlett was a bust, is on the disabled list with that trendy injury, a strained oblique muscle. DH Jim Thome and outfielder Jason Repko are day-to-day.

Carl Pavano comes down with the flu and the Twins are forced to summon former Cat Anthony Swarzak from Triple-A Rochester for a start. The next day, Swarzak is back with Rochester and former New Britain reliever Alex Burnett has returned to Minnesota.

The curse that has befallen the Twins has wreaked havoc with Rochester. According to Rochester publicity man Chuck Hinkel, the Red Wings have promoted seven players to the majors in 22 days, the most in the International League.

Shockingly, the wholesale changes have not sliced and diced the New Britain roster. Only two who started the season as Cats – utility man Toby Gardenhire and catcher Danny Lehmann – have been moved. The
Twins have little recourse other than to disrupt the Cats' flow, which is bound to occur soon.

The Rock Cats are playing winning baseball but leave us remember, the important thing is what’s happening in the big leagues, and right now the Twins are hoping that destiny soon deals them a better fate.

BROMBERG SUFFERS BROKEN ARM

2011-04-28T14:15:00.001-07:00

NEW BRITAIN – The New Britain Rock Cats announced Thursday that right-handed starting pitcher David Bromberg has been placed on the disabled list with a broken right forearm from being struck by a line drive in Tuesday’s game against the New Hampshire Fisher Cats.

Bromberg was hurt in the sixth inning when Adeiny Hechavarria’s knocked him from the game.

The parent Minnesota Twins have not yet announced any plans to replace him on the New Britain roster.

Bromberg, 23, was 5-5 with a 3.62 ERA for the Rock Cats last year before a promotion to Triple-A Rochester in mid-July. He went 1-4 with a 3.98 ERA in nine starts for the Red Wings.

DOOLEY KNOWS CATS BEST

2011-04-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

Nobody knows New Britain Rock Cats baseball better than West Hartford’s Jeff Dooley.

Dooley, voice of the Rock Cats on radio since 1998, builds everything in his life on a foundation of optimism, whether he’s delivering his smooth play-by-play portrayals or adding stations to his ever-growing Rock Cats Radio Network.

Life hasn’t been easy for the native of Lincoln, R.I., in recent seasons, but nothing short of death and destruction can dent the Dooley optimism. Last season, the aspirations for a winning season plummeted right from the start. The Rock Cats crash-landed in last place in the Eastern League’s Northern Division and proceeded to write new chapters of futility.

Dooley accentuates the positives in situations that would send others spiraling into the depths of despair. The Rock Cats compiled a 44-98 record (.310 winning percentage), the worst of its kind in the EL since the 1943 Utica Braves went 37-101 (.268).

But as Dooley points out, there were positives.

Center fielder Ben Revere, a Rock Cats most of the season, wound up with the parent Minnesota Twins in the midst of a torrid American League Central Division pennant race.

Right-handed pitcher Kyle Gibson showed why he looms as a future big league starter, perhaps even before 2011 plays out, by going 7-5 with a 3.68 ERA in 16 Double-A starts.

Outfielder Joe Benson, good enough at football to warrant a scholarship offer from Purdue after his high school days, displayed his multiple talents while leading the team with 23 home runs and uncorking laser-like throws to nail unsuspecting baserunners.

Revere and Gibson have advanced to Triple-A, but Benson returns to New Britain with the hopes of improving the rawest aspect of his game. So does sweet-swinging left-handed first baseman Chris Parmelee, and Dooley likes repeaters.

“I think the game slows down for them the second year in the league,” he said.

“[Current Twins outfielder and former Rock Cats MVP] Michael Cuddyer is a good example. He struggled in 2000 then comes back in 2001 and I think he was the best player in the league.

“No question Benson and Parmelee were overmatched last year. They had to go back to A-ball to figure things out. But Benson ends up winning the Twins’ minor league player of year award. I think they have bright futures.”

Benson struck out 136 times in 459 at-bats and was vulnerable against right-handed pitching. Given his strong arm, ability to hit for power and deceptively fast footspeed, he possesses the kind of raw ability that makes scouts swoon.

But in order for the Rock Cats to re-establish their EL credibility, pitchers and players will have to improve and emerge in number. Dooley cites a change in the Twins’ philosophy as the primary reason for optimism.

The Twins habitually have the youngest team in the EL while others are known to stack their teams with veterans. The Twins altered that approach, presumably to help their high-level minor league clubs compete, and perhaps find a diamond in the rough.

“There are some veteran guys,” Dooley said. “There’s some leadership, but with that being said, we have to take a look at the other teams in the league. Until you see whether the league is up or down, it’s hard to judge.

“It’s a great league and it was definitely very good last year. One of the scouts said the pitching was the best it had been in 15 years. Still, there’s no excuse for losing 98 games, but it’s tough to compete when you have young kids.”

Shortstop Estarlin de los Santos, touted as a prospect heading into 2010, had a horrible showing (.177 batting average, 22 errors in 64 games). He’s been replaced by Michael Hollimon, who has some major league experience with the Detroit Tigers.

Infielder Ray Chang, a Red Sox farmhand last year, was an opening night starter and he cracked three hits.

Pitching, as always, is the key, and New Britain’s 5.17 ERA and staggering WHIP (walks and hits to inning pitched ratio) of 1.57 leave no wonder why the team failed so badly.

Right-hander David Bromberg, Twins minor league pitcher of the year in 2009, earned passage to Triple-A last year after going 5-5 with a 3.62 in 17 Double-A starts, but returns to the EL for further seasoning.

He and Deolis Guerra, the last remaining Twins asset from the Johan Santana trade to the Mets prior to the 2008 season, are the lone 40-man roster hurlers and loom as manager Jeff Smith’s top starters.

“Guerra struggled his last 10 or 12 starts last year, but they say he’s keeping his fastball low and throwing his curve for strikes,” Dooley said. “[Pitching coach Stu Cliburn] said he’s never seen him look so good in spring training. The Twins still have a lot of stock in him.”

Also of interest is left-hander Spencer Steedley, an effective reliever until injury incapacitated him from the beginning of May on.

One thing’s for sure – win or lose, the Rock Cats are well received by area fans. They break their season attendance record every year, so while Dooley may lead the league in optimism, there are a lot of central Connecticut fans in the first division.

MY GOLD KEY DINNER SPEECH

2011-04-26T06:14:00.000-07:00

I have been asked to post the speech I made at the Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance's 70th annual Gold Key Dinner held April 17, 2011, at the Aqua Turf Club in Southington. Thank you to those who have asked. It was important to me to pay tribute to our mission rather than focus on myself. I'd like to think that weaving in some family and a bit of American history refelects my ideals. Here goes:

One of the first rules dictated by the august body of sports writers who run this dinner is KEEP YOUR SPEECH SHORT. They waggle their finger at you and say, “Five minutes … tops.”

It’s a good rule. If anybody’s going to run long, let it be the other people on this dais, those who have done so much to enrich Connecticut’s sports landscape.

And besides, who says you have to be long to be effective? Seven score and eight years ago, President Lincoln needed just short of 270 words to articulate the most famous speech in American history, honoring the Civil War dead at Gettysburg, Pa.

This one surely isn’t going to change the world the way that one did, but I hope it has some effect in our little corner of it.
The Art McGinley Award is presented for meritorious service to the Connecticut Sports Writers Alliance. Why should I or any other state sports journalist put time and effort into this organization?

As the late, great Bo Kolinsky impressed upon me in a way that only he could, the mission of the Alliance is indeed a worthy one. Our mission is to perpetuate our craft by raising money to help the next generation of sports journalists defray their college expenses.

We do so by honoring these folks who sit next to me. A win-win situation. MONEY GOES TO THE KIDS; AWARDS GO TO THE DESERVING, and the gracious people of the Alliance who donate their time to make this happen recognize that their selfless acts have a way of filling their hearts when this day comes to an end.

Art McGinley and the other Founding Fathers of the Connecticut Sports Writers’ Alliance had some of these things in mind. Bo Kolinsky enabled their vision to evolve into something more contemporary, and since he passed in 2003, it has continued to evolve.

To today’s honorees, I thank you for a lifetime of dedication to sports in our state, and for helping steer the Gold Key Dinner toward what I pray will be a vibrant future.

To those here to honor me in particular, I am humbled by your presence. And by the way today is my mother-in-law’s birthday. God bless you, Fayna. I don’t think you want all these folks knowing how old you are, but leave us to say that next year will be a milestone in your blessed life.

To the men of the Alliance, thank you so much for selecting me to receive this honor. I will cherish it forever.

And to Abe Lincoln who steered this nation through a most difficult test that began exactly 150 years and 5 days ago, every person owes you a great debt that can never be repaid.

TWINS SEND EX-CAT MANSHIP TO TRIPLE-A

2011-04-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

The Minnesota Twins announced after Sunday's game that they will recall right-handed pitcher Jim Hoey
from Triple-A Rochester. Hoey will join the team in Baltimore and will be available for tomorrow night's game with the Orioles.

In four relief appearances for the Red Wings this season, Hoey has posted a 2.70 ERA (6.2 ip, 2 er) with eight strikeouts. Hoey, who will wear number 37, was acquired by the Twins from the Orioles this offseason and will be looking to make his Twins debut.
To make room for Hoey on the 25-man roster, the Twins have optioned right-handed pitcher Jeff Manship to Triple-A Rochester. Manship made five relief appearances for the Twins allowing three runs in 3.1 innings pitched.

ROCK CATS' LEHMANN PROMOTED TO AAA

2011-04-15T10:31:00.001-07:00

New Britain Rock Cats catcher Danny Lehmann has been promoted to the Triple-A International League in the wake of the injury that put Joe Mauer on the Minnesota Twins’ 15-day disabled list with bilateral leg weakness.

The Twins promoted catcher Steve Holm and tabbed Lehmann to replace him on the Triple-A Rochester Red Wings’ roster. Holm played in 95 games for the defunct Norwich/Connecticut franchise in 2005 and 2007.

The move leaves the Rock Cats with just one able-bodied catcher – Allan de San Miguel. Dan Rohlfing is en route from Class A Fort Myers. Jair Fernandez (hamate bone injury) remains on New Britain’s disabled list.

Rohlfing, Minnesota’s 14th-round pick in the 2007 draft, is hitting .182 (2-for-11) in three games at Fort Myers. The St. Louis native hit .242 with a homer and 13 RBI in 41 games with the Miracle last year.

Lehmann, 25, a non-roster invitee to big league spring training, was hitting .462 (6-for-13) in four games with the Rock Cats.

BENSON LEADS CATS TO 5TH STRAIGHT

2011-04-14T20:26:00.000-07:00

NEW BRITAIN, Conn. – New Britain Rock Cats center fielder Joe Benson is sending an early message that graduation day from Double-A may well be drawing near.
Benson, a good enough football player in high school to get a Big 10 scholarship offer, has all the tools, but some of them were a little raw last year.

Benson showed the Portland Sea Dogs the value of a year’s experience Thursday by ripping two doubles and driving in three runs in leading the Rock Cats to a 6-2 win in their home opener before 6,684 at New Britain Stadium.

The Rock Cats (6-2), atop the Eastern League’s Northern Division after finishing last in 2010, have won five straight.
Benson was the Minnesota Twins’ minor league player of the year last season but high strikeout numbers ushered him back to the Eastern League for a second season. His other numbers are catching scouts’ eyes thus far in 2011 – a .406 batting average, nine RBI and five extra-base hits in eight games.

“He plays above the speed of this level from what we saw tonight,” Portland manager Kevin Boles said. “The two throws he made from center field, he’s got a great arm. He’s a plus runner, plus bat speed with power potential. There’s a lot to like about this kid. He’s a superior athlete and a gamer as well.”

Portland starter Brock Huntzinger retired the first two hitters of the game without incident when his fortune changed with one swing of the bat.

Ray Chang, who spent 2010 with the Sea Dogs, turned on the first pitch and drove it over the left field wall for his first home run of the season. Huntzinger walked Chris Parmelee and Benson drilled a long RBI double to right center giving New Britain an early 2-0 lead.

“As a hitter you only get a few times when you see the ball that well and get to barrel up balls and take advantage of pitches,” said Benson, who spurned a chance to play football at Purdue to sign with the Twins in 2006. “I definitely feel more comfortable back this year. Working at the end of last year I got a lot of my confidence back.”

Portland third baseman Will Middlebrooks (2-for-4) answered with a solo homer off New Britain starter Bobby Lanigan in the second, but Huntzinger’s first-inning struggle was a harbinger of things to come.

In the third inning, the Rock Cats rapped four solid hits and the Sea Dogs (3-4) made two miscues, one physical and one mental. Four runs scored and Huntzinger’s night ended prematurely.

Consecutive doubles by Parmelee and Benson were the key blows. Evan Bigley added an RBI single. Bigley took second on an errant throw by right fielder Chih-Hsuen Chiang and scored when Mark Dolenc tapped a two-out grounder to first and Huntzinger was late covering.

Portland’s bullpen held New Britain without a baserunner the rest of the way. Veteran right-hander Eammon Portice retired all 10 batters he faced. Seth Garrison set down the next six.

“Our bullpen kept us in the ballgame and that’s something that Portice and Garrison have done,” Boles said. “They’ve started out strong and we really like out bullpen. I’m very comfortable with the arms coming out of the pen.”

Lanigan (1-1) allowed just one earned run on five hits and two walks while striking out four in six innings. Cole DeVries earned the save with three innings of one-hit relief.

The teams hook up today at 12:05 p.m. with right-hander Stolmy Pimentel taking the hill for Portland against New Britain right-hander Steve Hirschfeld.

ROCK CATS TAKE TWO IN HARRISBURG

2011-04-12T21:28:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately for the Harrisburg Senators, two for Tuesday took on a different meaning for them as they were swept in two games by the New Britain Rock Cats. The Rock Cats took game one, the completion of the suspended game 3-1 and then took game two 8-1.

Game one started on Tuesday night, but was suspended in the top of the 2nd inning. When the game resumed, RH Brad Peacock was on the mound for Harrisburg and RH David Bromberg for New Britain. The Rock Cats plated two runs in the fifth, then tacked on another in the seventh to take a 3-0 lead into the last of the ninth. The Senators put the first two men on base, but couldn’t come up with much needed hits though they scored a run on a wild pitch and passed ball.

Steve Singleton and Evan Bigley paced a 13-hit New Britain attack with three hits each. Ray Chang had a single, double and two RBI. Bromberg earned the win with six shutout innings. Jake Stevens earned the save, his first.

In game two, New Britain broke the game open in the third inning with five runs off of spot starter Jimmy Barthmaier.

Singleton hit his first homer of the year and a double. Chris Parmelee had two doubles and three RBI. Spot starter Santos Arias pitched 3 2/3 innings of one-hit shutout ball. Brett Jacobson earned the win and former UConn hurler Mike Tarsi finished by striking out the side.

The Sens scored their two runs on a two-run single by Buck Coats in the sixth.

With the doubleheader loss the Sens are now 2-3 on the season while the Rock Cats improve to 4-2.

The final game of the series and opening homestand is Wednesday night at 7:00 p.m. Harrisburg sends RH Brad Meyers to the mound against RH Deolis Guerra for New Britain.

ROCK CATS GAME SUSPENDED MONDAY

2011-04-11T19:21:00.000-07:00

Harrisburg and New Britain Suspended Due to Wet Grounds

(Courtesy of Terry Byrom, Harrisburg Senators broadcaster)

On Monday night at Metro Bank Park, the game between the Harrisburg Senators and New Britain Rock Cats was suspended with one-out and runner on first base in the top of the second inning. The game will continue on Tuesday, April 12 at 5:00 p.m. and be played to a nine-inning conclusion. The regularly scheduled game will be seven-innings and start approximately 30 minutes after the conclusion of the suspended game.

The probable pitchers for the regularly scheduled game on Tuesday, game two, are RH Brad Peacock for the Senators against RH David Bromberg for the New Britain Rock Cats.

SIZZLING BENSON LEADS ROCK CATS TO WIN

2011-04-10T15:17:00.000-07:00

Joe Benson is making a case that he’s made the right offseason adjustments and is ready to graduate from Double-A.

Benson slammed a homer and double to drive in three runs in support of shutout hurling Sunday to give the New Britain Rock Cats a 4-0 win over the Richmond Flying Squirrels and a draw in the first series of the year.

Benson deposited the second pitch from Richmond starter Clayton Tanner for a leadoff homer in the second inning -- his first of the season -- to get the Rock Cats (2-2) started. His two-bagger came at an opportune time – with Ray Chang and Chris Parmelee on the corners in the fourth inning – for two RBI and a 3-0 lead.

Benson is batting .471 (8-for-17) with five RBI.

Steve Hirschfeld (1-0) limited the Squirrels to just one hit – a second-inning single by Roger Kieschnick – in his five-inning stint. He didn’t walk any while striking out three. He retired the final 11 he faced before the early season pitch count caught up with him.

Three southpaws finished Richmond (2-2) off. Jake Stevens followed with two innings of one-hit ball. Spencer Steedley pitched 2/3 of an inning before Tyler Robertson earned his first save by notching the last four outs.

Chang and Parmelee had two hits each. The middle of the New Britain order went 6-for-12 with four extra-base hits, scored all four runs and drove in three.

The Rock Cats travel to Harrisburg for 7 p.m. games Monday through Wednesday before opening the home portion of their 2011 campaign with a four-game weekend set against the Portland Sea Dogs, the Boston Red Sox' Double-A Eastern League affiliates.

HARD LUCK, QUIET BATS DOOM ROCK CATS

2011-04-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

Two Richmond pitchers pitched four-hit shutout ball over eight innings Saturday night to lead the Flying Squirrels to a 6-2 win over the New Britain Rock Cats before 6,093 at The Diamond.

Starter Justin Fitzgerald (1-0) yielded two hits over five innings in his Double-A debut. David Quinowski extended the Rock Cats’ misery for another two innings before the visitors struck for two runs in the ninth inning.

New Britain starter Bobby Lanigan (0-1) allowed just one run on six hits over 5 1/3 innings. The Flying Squirrels made former UConn pitcher Mike Tarsi’s first appearance a hard-luck nightmare by reaching him for three runs in the seventh.

Tarsi replaced Lanigan with runners at first and second with one out in the sixth but pitched out of the jam. A walk to Roger Kieschnick, a balk, and infield hits by Mike McBryde and Johnny Monell produced a run and brought on Brett Jacobson in relief.

Danny Lehmann’s passed ball and a squeeze bunt by Justin Christian gave Richmond (2-1) a 4-0 lead.

The Squirrels tacked on two runs in the eighth against Santos Arias.

Joe Benson had three hits for New Britain (1-2) to raise his batting average to .462. Evan Bigley and Marc Dolenc had RBI singles in the ninth.

Richmond is slated to start left-hander Clayton Tanner against New Britain righty Steven Hirshfeld in the series finale Sunday.

ONE EX-CAT ON DL; ANOTHER GETS BIG LEAGUE CALL

2011-04-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

The Minnesota Twins announced Saturday that former New Britain Rock Cats right-hander Kevin Slowey has been place on the disabled list with a right shoulder strain. They have recalled ex-New Britain reliever Alex Burnett from Triple-A Rochester to take his place.

Slowey, who lost the fifth spot in the Twins rotation to Scott Baker out of spring training, was 0-0 with a 2.45 ERA in 3 2/3 innings this season. He allowed a hit, didn't walk anybody and struck out three.

Slowey,26, had nine starts for the Rock Cats in 2006, compiling a 4-3 record and 3.19 ERA after starting the season in high Class A.

Burnett, 23, made one bullpen appearance in Triple-A and retired the only hitter he faced. In 2009 in New Britain, he was 1-2 with a 1.79 ERA in 40 games, all in relief. He converted nine of his 10 save opportunities.

Burnett appeared in 41 games for the Twins last year. He was 2-2 with a 5.29 ERA.

CATS' GARDENHIRE PROMOTED

2011-04-08T19:31:00.000-07:00

Infielder Toby Gardenhire will be promoted to the Triple-A Rochester Red Wings from New Britain on Saturday. Gardenhire, who was on the Rock Cats' disabled list will take the place of infielder Luke Hughes who was promoted to Minnesota.

GUERRA, DEVRIES PITCH ROCK CATS TO 1ST WIN

2011-04-08T19:21:00.000-07:00

What took the 2010 New Britain Rock Cats eight games to accomplish they’ve achieved in their second game of 2011.

The Rock Cats erased the zero in their win column Friday night, riding strong pitching performances by starter Deolis Guerra and Cole DeVries to a 7-1 triumph over the Richmond Flying Squirrels before 5,638 at The Diamond.

Guerra (1-0) allowed three hits in five shutout innings. DeVries, a right-hander who was 8-19 with a 5.16 over the last two years with the Rock Cats, spun three hitless frames while fanning five. Nate Robertson finished up, yielding the lone Richmond tally in the ninth inning.

The Rock Cats (1-1), losers of their first seven games en route to a 44-98 record last year, were stymied by Richmond starter Eric Surkamp over the first four frames, gathering just three hits while striking out 10 times. But they scored twice against Ronnie Ray (0-1) to grab the lead in the fifth, and added two in the eighth and three in the ninth to win going away.

Chris Parmelee had three hits to lead a 13-hit New Britain attack. Michael Hollimon’s two-run homer in the fifth was the Rock Cats’ first round-tripper of the year. Evan Bigley had two hits and drove in a pair of runs.

Yangervis Solarte, Joe Benson and Deibinson Romero also had two safeties each.

Joe Koshansky knocked in the lone run for Richmond (1-1).

ROCK CATS HISTORY LESSON

2011-04-08T17:13:00.000-07:00

(Rock Cats notes, courtesy of broadcaster extraordinaire Jeff Dooley)

The New Britain Rock Cats are the longest tenured professional franchise in Connecticut history. The team was affiliated with the Boston Red Sox when it moved from venerable but antiquated Muzzy Field in Bristol prior to the 1983 season. This year marks the 29th season of operation in the state. ....

Of the teams entering Eastern League play in 2011, the New Britain franchise ranks second in longevity. Only the Reading Phillies (1967) have been EL members longer than the Red Sox/Rock Cats. ...

This season marks the 17th that the New Britain franchise has been affiliated with the Minnesota Twins. The Red Sox' tenure in Willow Brook Park was terminated by the late Joe Buzas after the 1994 season because the Sox wanted their Double-A franchise moved to Springfield. ...

New Britain is now 9-20 in season openers after dropping a 6-4 decision to the Richmond Flying Squirrels on Thursday, April 7. The franchise has posted a 4-11 mark in road lidlifters and has been on the short end in five of the last six seasons. ...

Seven of the last eight openers have come against the Double-A affiliates of the Toronto Blue Jays, six against the New Hampshire Fisher Cats and the 2003 opener against the defunct New Haven Ravens. ...

The Rock Cats' roster features 20 who played for last year's club and seven who did not. The roster includes 12 pitchers, three catchers, nine infielders and three outfielders. The Rock Cats' top prospects, as assessed by Baseball America, are: OF Joe Benson (#4); RHP Liam Hendricks (#6); RHP Dave Bromberg (#13); 1B Chris Parmelee (#18). Bromberg, Parmelee, Benson and RHP Deolis Guerra are on the Minnesota Twins' 40-man roster. ...

The season marks a homecoming of sorts for RHP Mike Tarsi. Tarsi, from Danbury, pitched for the University of Connecticut. He is the first state player on the team since Plainville's T.R. Marcinczyk in 2001. Jeff Bagwell (Killingworth; University of Hartford) and Mo Vaughn (Norwalk) played for the New Britain Red Sox. ...

ROCK CATS BLOW 4-RUN LEAD IN LOSS TO RICHMOND

2011-04-07T19:57:00.001-07:00

(Report courtesy of the Richmond Flying Squirrels)

The New Britain Rock Cats’ bullpen squandered a four-run lead Thursday night, enabling the Richmond Flying Squirrels to gain a 6-4 win in the Eastern League opener before a capacity crowd of 9,560 at The Diamond.

The Rock Cats reached Squirrels starter Daryl Maday for four runs in the third inning.

Mark Dolenc ignited the rally by beating out an infield hit. Catcher Danny Lehmann followed with a double that plated the game’s first run.

Maday walked Michael Hollimon. Yangervis Solarte moved the runners into scoring position with a sacrifice bunt and former Red Sox farmhand Ray Chang drove them home with a double. A double by Joe Benson gave Rock Cats starter David Bromberg a 4-0 lead.

The Squirrels answered with three runs off Bromberg in the fourth inning. Mike McBryde worked a one-out walk and scored on a double by Johnny Monell. Jose Flores split the left-field gap with a double and Justin Christian delivered him with a single.

Bromberg allowed three runs on six hits in four innings of work.

Richmond pieced together the game-winning rally against left-hander Spencer Steedley in the eighth inning.

Monell rapped an RBI double and Flores reached when Lehmann uncorked a wild throw to third on his sacrifice bunt. Monell scored the game-winning tally. Charlie Culberson added some insurance with an RBI single.

Right-hander Osiris Matos earned the win in relief by retiring the Rock Cats last batter in the eighth. Jason Stoffel closed the game with a perfect ninth inning.

The Rock Cats are expected to start right-hander Deolis Guerra in the second game of the series Friday night. Richmond counters with lefty Eric Surkamp.

EX-ROCK CAT HUGHES RETURNS TO MAJORS

2011-04-07T15:04:00.000-07:00

(Courtesy of Twins communications director Mike Herman and Rochester Red Wings publicist Chuck Hinkel)

Former New Britain Rock Cats star Luke Hughes is getting another shot at some major league playing time.

Hughes was recalled from Triple-A Rochester after the Twins placed infielder Tsuyoshi Nishioka. Nishioka, imported from Japan after winning a batting title in his homeland last season, was placed on the 15-day disabled list with a fractured left fibula sustained when trying to turn a double play against the Yankees in New York Thursday afternoon.

Hughes, 26, from Perth, Australia, showed New Britain fans that he was a legitimate prospect in 2008. After spending the entire 2007 season with the Rock Cats as a utility player, he emerged the next year by hitting safely in 29 of his first 32 games.

He was named Eastern League Player of the Week April 26 to May 1 when he hit .406 with six homers and 10 RBI. He was rewarded with a promotion to Triple-A July 31 after starting at third base in the Futures Game.

An oblique injury set him back in 2009. He spent most of June on the disabled list and was sent back to New Britain for the remainder of the season.

Hughes received his first big league chance at the end of last April and went 2-for-7 (.286) in two games against Detroit, including a homer off Max Scherzer in his first major league at-bat.

He was returned to Rochester, but played in just eight games before suffering a sports hernia that ended his season.

Hughes played 218 games in a Rock Cats uniform. He hit .319 with 15 homers and 40 RBI in 70 games in his breakout 2008 campaign. In 2007, he batted .283 with nine homers and 43 RBI filling in at first, second, third and the outfield.

Nishioka played seven seasons for the Chiba Lotte Marines of the Japanese Pacific League before giving American baseball a shot. He played in all six games with the Twins this season hitting .208 (5-for-24), with a double, two RBI and a stolen base.

SPRING -- WHEN AN OLD MAN'S PASSION TURNS TO BASEBALL

2011-04-02T14:49:00.000-07:00

My heartbeat seems to have slowed a bit.

I feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes more than ever before and on those rare days in late March when I can feel the warmth of the sun, it’s like getting a passionate embrace from dear Mother Nature.

Spring fever is nothing new. It’s afflicted people of these New England climes for generations dating back to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. But this is different. It’s a strain of spring fever to be sure but with a touch of another more recently diagnosed malady called Baseball Fever.

In my case, it’s rather acute. For the first time in 12 years, I’m waking up at home the last week of March instead of in Fort Myers, Fla., near the training grounds of the Minnesota Twins and their Double-A affiliates, the New Britain Rock Cats.

I miss the perfect mornings when the bronzed young men jog out to the pristine minor league complex adjacent to majestic Hammond Stadium, the beautiful facility that houses major league camp and the Twins’ Class A team, the Fort Myers Miracle. How perfect that name. There is something miraculous about Southwest Florida. In some ways it does seem like it’s a little closer to heaven.

Four diamonds fan out from a three-story tower where the Twins’ administrative hierarchy can oversee everything that happens.

On one field, the Rock Cats-to-be work out and play an early afternoon game against similar competition that trains in the region. The Red Sox are right across town. The Orioles aren’t far away nor are the Pirates.

On another field, you have the Triple-A team, composed largely of players whose big league dreams have been temporarily – or permanently – derailed. I remember one spring when my dear friend and former Rock Cats manager Stan Cliburn had to lecture a young Triple-A outfielder dismayed by the trauma of being optioned to the minors.

Cliburn’s discourse was poignant and brilliantly mixed with equal parts of human compassion, baseball reality and the charm of the southern gentleman that characterizes the native of Jackson, Miss. Ex-Rock Cat Denard Span is now a Twins staple as leadoff hitter/centerfielder.

The third field features the newest professionals, bound for the lowest echelons of minor league baseball, where glory and attendance are rare commodities and dues must be paid.

The fourth diamond has no outfield – a perfectly manicured infield with a fence five feet beyond the skin portion. I’ve often talked to Hall of Famer Paul Molitor there after watching him bang grounders at infield hopefuls, stressing the fundamentals that made him one of the greatest players of his time whom few around here know about because he never played in New York or Boston.

Atop the tower, you’d find the inimitable Jim Rantz, the Twins minor league director who has been with the franchise since it moved to the Twin Cities from Washington, D.C., in 1961 and he was a pitching prospect.

Few people live to have the unique pleasure of witnessing the tributes that have rightfully been bestowed on Mr. Rantz. Since 2002, the Jim Rantz Award has gone to the top minor league pitcher in the system. All nine recipients have pitched for New Britain, including the most recent honoree Kyle Gibson, the rangy right-hander who surely will be the object of fantasy baseball devotees before long.

Mr. Rantz is benevolent, kind and a frequent visitor to New Britain Stadium.

One time about 10 years ago, I tossed my computer bag in the back of my minivan as a headed to the stadium. As I was driving, I heard a voice. I was able to distinguish it as the soft, thoughtful tone of Mr. Rantz.

Divine intervention? It very well could have been, but in this case, my computer bag had landed in such a way that set off my tape recorder.

The Rock Cats manager is Jeff Smith. Talk about kindness and benevolence, I know Jeff didn’t invent the traits but he ranks among the finest baseball gentlemen I’ve ever met.

As a player in New Britain for parts of six seasons, Smitty did everything he could to endear himself to the people of the region. He visited hospitals and read to children. He took the time to encourage the elderly in nursing homes. He was a regular at Klingberg Family Center, the stately facility on the hill in the center of New Britain that does wonderful things for youngsters in need.

As manager, Smith and the Twins expect no less of the players, and they respond with selflessness. Many a central Connecticut native will recall spending time with the likes of Joe Mauer, Justin Morneau and Michael Cuddyer, the heart of the Twins’ batting order these days.

Springtime in Fort Myers was always my time to reminisce with them and others who I befriended in my 30 years around the world’s most exquisite game. I knew I would miss that and I knew the most difficult moments would come as opening day grew close.

When it comes to the milk of human kindness, the Twins are the cream of the crop. That’s one reason why Rock Cats owner/general manager/president/patron saint Bill Dowling relishes a partnership that does not include the Red Sox, the team he rooted for passionately growing up in Holyoke, Mass., or the Yankees, for whom he worked as general counsel.

Spring training has come and gone, and I’ve missed it dearly. I take solace in the fact that nothing will keep me from frequenting my perch in the New Britain Stadium press box just as often as I can as the 2011 season plays out.

2011 ROCK CATS ROSTER SET

2011-04-01T17:37:00.000-07:00

(Rock Cats press release)

New Britain, CT – The Opening Day edition of the 2011 New Britain Rock Cats has been assembled in Florida and on Monday morning, the group will be arriving at their summer home in Connecticut.

Returning manager Jeff Smith and his players – 20 returnees and seven promising rookies - are ready to begin the franchise’s 39th consecutive season of professional baseball in the Nutmeg State. The Eastern League club will open their new baseball season at 7:05 p.m. next Thursday night (4/7) in Richmond, Virginia. The home opener is slated for Thursday, April 14, at 6:05 p.m.

The Rock Cats’ 2011 Opening Day roster contains a veteran presence that had been missing in recent years, when the New Britain team was consistently among the youngest in the historic baseball circuit. Indeed, of the 27 players starting the new campaign in the Hardware City, 20 are returnees who have previously performed in a New Britain uniform.

One returnee, 23-year-old 1B Chris Parmelee, was Minnesota’s top draft pick in 2006 while another, 23-year-old slugging OF Joe Benson, was named Minnesota’s 2010 Minor League Player of the Year. Baseball America ranks Benson the #4 Prospect in the entire Twins system and the sweet-swinging Parmelee, #18.

Other top prospects en route to Connecticut include three highly-regarded right-handed pitchers: 22-year-Liam Hendriks (ranked #6 by BA), 23-year-old David Bromberg (#13), and 23-year-old Bobby Lanigan (#31). Joining them will be a rookie and the pride of Danbury High and the University of Connecticut - 6’8” lefthander Michael Tarsi. The Twins selected Tarsi out of Storrs in the 2007 draft and he’ll soon be making his Double-A debut.

Other key returnees to the Rock Cats include 21-year-old RHP Deolis Guerra – a 2010 EL All-Star – and 23-year-old LHP Tyler Robertson, who led the 2010 club in starts (27), innings (144.2) and strikeouts (91). While Guerra is penciled in as a starter, the 6’6 Robertson likely will be working out of the bullpen.

Additional players include veteran catchers Danny Lehmann, Jair Fernandez and Allan de san Miguel. Fernandez will start the year on the disabled list.

In addition to Parmelee, five infielders who previously performed in Rock Cats uniforms will also be back in 2011. They are Chris Cates, Estarlin de los Santos, the versatile Toby Gardenhire, Yangervis Solarte and Steve Singleton. Both de los Santos and Gardenhire – the winner of the Rock Cats 2008 10th Player Award – will start the new season on the DL.

Coming to New Britain for the first time are four veteran players who were acquired by Minnesota after they had performed in other organizations. This group includes RHP Brett Jacobson, a 6’6 reliever acquired via trade with Baltimore,

LHP Jake Stevens, a bullpen specialist was signed away from San Francisco. Infielders Ray Chang, a 2010 EL All-Star with Portland who signed as a free agent, and Mike Hollimon, a middle infielder who has MLB time with Detroit, give the Rock Cats veterans they generally lack.

Along with Tarsi, another rookie who will be debuting in New Britain this season is infielder Deibinson Romero, a highly touted prospect who is now healthy after suffering a series of leg injuries.

The complete 2011 Opening Day roster:

PITCHERS (12): RHP Santos Arias, RHP David Bromberg, RHP Cole Devries, RHP Deolis Guerra, RHP Liam Hendriks, RHP Steve Hirschfeld, RHP Brett Jacobson, RHP Bobby Lanigan, LHP Tyler Robertson, LHP Spencer Steedley, LHP Jake Stevens, LHP Michael Tarsi.

CATCHERS (3): Allan de san Miguel, Jair Fernandez (DL), Danny Lehmann.

INFIELDERS (9): Chris Cates, Ray Chang, Estarlin de los Santos (DL), Toby Gardenhire (DL), Mike Hollimon, Chris Parmelee, Deibinson Romero, Steve Singleton, Yangervis Solarte.
OUTFIELDERS (3): Joe Benson, Evan Bigley, and Mark Dolenc.

The 24-year-old Bigley was impressive as a late-season call-up last year, batting .336 with nine doubles, four homers and 15 RBI in just 27 games. The versatile Dolenc contributed in several different ways and won the Rock Cats 2010 10th Player Award.

D.J. HERNANDEZ RESIGNS SOUTHINGTON FOOTBALL POST

2011-03-29T14:53:00.001-07:00

The Athletic Department is announcing that Dennis Hernandez has resigned as head football coach for Southington High School. He has accepted a position as quarterback coach at Brown University. Coach Hernandez leaves after completing 1 year as head coach with an 8:2 record. The search for a replacement will begin immediately.

FORMER ROCK CAT RHP BULLOCK TRADED

2011-03-28T17:24:00.000-07:00

(courtesy Chuck Hinkle, Rochester Red Wings publicist)

TWINS RETAIN RULE 5 PICK SCOTT DIAMOND, TRADE RHP BILLY BULLOCK TO ATLANTA

Ft. Myers, FL – The Minnesota Twins announced today that they have finalized a trade with the Atlanta Braves to retain left-handed pitcher Scott Diamond, who the Twins selected in the 2010 Rule 5 Draft. Diamond has been assigned outright to Triple-A Rochester.

In exchange for Diamond, the Twins will send minor league pitcher Billy Bullock to the Braves.

Bullock began the 2010 season with Class A Fort Myers. He was promoted to New Britain in late June and compiled a 2-4 record and 3.44 ERA in 30 games, all in relief.

The 6'6, 225-pound right-hander was chosen by the Twins in the second round of the 2009 draft out of the University of Florida.

TWINS' MOVES AFFECT EX-ROCK CATS

2011-03-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

News that is generally not available locally (anymore), courtesy of Twins publicist Mike Herman and Rochester Red Wings publicist Chuck Hinkle ...

Ft. Myers, FL - The Minnesota Twins announced today that they have optioned right-handed pitchers Jim Hoey and Anthony Slama, and infielder Luke Hughes to Triple-A Rochester.

The Twins have 34 players remaining in camp. Left-handed pitcher Phil Dumatrait and catcher Danny Lehmann will be reassigned to Minor League camp following tomorrow's game, while right-handed pitchers Carlos Gutierrez and Kyle Waldrop, left-handed pitcher Chuck James, catcher Rene Rivera, infielder Chase Lambin and outfielder Brian Dinkelman will be reassigned to Minor League camp following Wednesday's exhibition game in Atlanta.

Slama, Hughes, Lehmann, Gutierrez, Waldrop and Dinkelman have all played for New Britain.

Slama, the Rock Cats closer in 2009, was 4-2 with a 2.48 and 25 saves in the Eastern League before moving to Triple-A Rochester August 12.

Hughes, who gained considerable popularity with the Rock Cats in 2007 and parts of 2008 and 2009, vaulted from utility player to major leaguer during his EL tenure.

He hit .283 with ine homers and 43 RBI in 92 games in 2007. In 2008, he batted .319 with 15 homers and 40 RBI in 70 games before his July 31 promotion to Rochester. After playing in the World Baseball Classic for his native Australia in 2009, he injured his oblique and played 56 games in New Britain (.250-6-36).

The versatile Dinkelman advanced after hitting .296 with eight homers and 65 RBI for New Britain in 2009. He was second in the EL in doubles with 38 and made the league's postseason all-star team.

Gutierrez, a first-round pick out of the University of Miami in 2008, moved between starting rotation and bullpen in 2009, compiling a 5-8 record and 4.57 ERA in 32 games. Lehmann played 34 games in New Britain and batted .236 with a homer and eight RBI.

Waldrop, a first-round pick for the Twins in 2004, had two stints with the Rock Cats, going 3-6 with a 5.34 in 11 starts in 2007, and 2-3 with a 1.46 in 31 relief appearances in 2009.

A FOND ADIEU TO PAT NESHEK

2011-03-21T14:29:00.000-07:00

An old Rock Cats friend is a Minnesota Twin no more.

Minnesota native Pat Neshek, a sidearming right-handed reliever who used his excellent work in New Britain as a springboard to a major league career, was waived Friday and snatched up by the San Diego Padres.

The Twins could have held onto him because he still had a minor league option but they chose to clear a spot on the 40-man roster and relieve themselves of his $625,000 contract.

The Twins never seemed to care for Neshek’s propensity to use his collectables website/diary, “On the Road with Pat Neshek,” as a forum for expression.

While with the Rock Cats (2003-05), he made comment about the manner in which the Twins released fellow hurler Jeff Randazzo in April, 2005.

“Today we arrived in Trenton, New Jersey around 2 p.m. after a long day of sitting in traffic trying to get through NYC,” Neshek’s April 25 entry read. “Before we left we were informed by [manager Stan Cliburn] that he got a call from above and they had to release Jeff Randazzo. ... a numbers thing he stated was the reason for the release.

“It was the strangest way I have seen for a player to get released. He already had his items packed for the trip and on the bus watching his DVD. He got called off the bus and was told the news. It's really sad whenever someone is let go but Jeff's was really tough on the team.”

Last year, he used social networking on the internet as a means to dispute a diagnosis of an injury, prompting meetings with manager Ron Gardenhire and Twins medical personnel that ostensibly smoothed out the situation.

While in New Britain, Neshek was 9-5 with an ERA of 2.87 in 86 games. He gave up 110 hits and walked 42 in 125 1/3 innings while striking out 138. His deceptive stand-up, side-arming motion makes it hard for right-handed hitters to pick him up. Lefties gave him fits in the minors but he battled to fix that. He’s a stand-up guy all around.

Regardless of what anybody thinks of his communication practices, Pat Neshek was among the most refreshing young ballplayers I’ve ever met. He had so much “fan” in him that even pitching in the bigs didn’t alter, sort of a right-hander with a lefthander's personality.

I’m hopeful that San Diego will look back on his acquisition and be able to say it was a destiny-changing event. One thing’s for sure – he can get right-handed hitters out in a role as bullpen specialist.

Sara’s Surprise and Melanson’s Marvels make season special

2011-03-16T20:01:00.001-07:00

Emotion plays such a vibrant role in sports.

From my perspective, the challenge is to convey the two-dimensional world of words and photographs to provide a multi-dimensional effect so you can capture the essence of the pure emotion that I witnessed first hand.

Over the last two weeks, I have been afforded two opportunities to absorb emotional moments in the arena of play and try to stir my words to paint an appropriate picture.

The first came on March 4 at Hall High’s Frank Robinson II Gymnasium in a girls basketball game I chronicled for the previous issue of the West Hartford Press.

The Hall girls, enjoying the finest season in program history, faced a daunting second-round challenge from Sacred Heart Academy. The Hamden squad built a six-point lead on the strength of its three-point acuity late in the second quarter and the Warriors were in desperate need of a lift.

Hall was toward the end of a 15-point run to close out the half when emotional leader Sara Binkhorst made a play that will forever serve as a signature of the team’s success.

The senior guard motored over the time line and into the forecourt when a Sacred Heart defender knocked her to the floor along the right sideline. She hit the floor with a thud, her elbow absorbing the brunt of the fall.

She grimaced in a way that indicated she may have been hurt seriously. My heart quavered with that sinking feeling. How much I hate to see a young athlete’s heart ripped from its moorings by injury.

Teammate Moira Honyotski helped her up and asked if she was okay. She nodded that she was. I wasn’t convinced, and the tear rolling down my cheek was ample evidence of that.

Binkhorst turned to the official and asked if the Warriors were in the one-and-one bonus. When she was told no foul was called, her mouth formed a perfect circle and her eyes widened three times their normal size. She was stunned and so was I. We were both incredulous but the game must go on.

With only seconds remaining, Binkhorst received the inbounds pass, made a couple dribbles and uncorked a 20-foot shot that swished through the net. She pumped her fist in the air and circled toward the Hall locker room with her teammates.

The fact that a bewildered Sacred Heart team never recovered was of no surprise. I had witnessed one of sports’ beautiful moments, one that Binkhorst will remember at high school reunions for many years to come. I hope that the words I used to describe the moment last week and this retrospective glimpse back will help her remember.

Yet as poignant as Sara’s Surprise was, an even more emotional circumstance was awaiting me at the Newington Arena three days later.

On that very day Sara was enjoying one of life’s uplifting moments, Northwest Catholic’s hockey-playing brothers Jeff and Matt Greenwood were trying to cope with life’s ultimate anguish. Their father David lost his battle with cancer.

The Greenwoods had the weekend to sort through their feelings, but hockey was such a huge part of their lives that there was little doubt as to what they would do.

“From what I gather, hockey was real important to David,” said Margaret Williamson, principal and chief administrator at Northwest Catholic. “The older son Jonathan (now 28) also played for our program. Hockey was something they all did and associated it with family.

“We weren’t surprised the boys wanted to play and Mom made it clear to [coach Don Melanson] over the weekend that it was going to happen.”

As the game between the Indians and Rockville-Manchester-Stafford began to unfurl, the teams were just getting warmed up when a Northwest wing honed in on goal, fired a shot and thrust his stick high in the air.

It was No. 2, sophomore Jeff Greenwood, celebrating a goal that surely had David gushing in heaven’s front row.

The Northwest student body was there in mass support.

“Once the rest of the students [knew the Greenwoods would play], they wanted to make a good showing for the team,” Williamson said. “The energy got transmitted to the players who wanted to win it for their teammates. It spread to the parents, who made ribbons and patches for the players’ jerseys.”

The yellow ribbons and patches had the boys’ numbers – 2 and 35 – along with David’s initials.

The game went back and forth. With just over three minutes left, the Rockville co-op had a 5-3 lead, but over a purely magical sequence of just 27 seconds, Northwest struck for two goals. The Indians won it 34 seconds into overtime to earn a spot against the tournament’s top seed, Brookfield-Bethel-Danbury.

“It doesn’t really matter what happened in the grand scheme of things but they persevered and made a miraculous comeback,” Williamson said. “Maybe there was an angel watching over but it was very special and it helped the boys.”

At one time in my life, I probably would have written off such an ethereal thought, but not after observing Melanson’s Marvels. Top-seeded Brookfield (et al) was absorbed into the local version of “Miracle on Ice,” too, with Northwest’s 5-2 win on Thursday night March 10.

I wonder if Al Michaels is available to broadcast the next game against Watertown.

TRIO ASSIGNED TO ROCK CATS

2011-03-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

TWINS OPTION SEVEN PLAYERS, REASSIGN SEVEN OTHERS TO MINOR LEAGUE CAMP

Ft. Myers, FL – The Minnesota Twins announced today that they have optioned seven players and reassigned seven others to Minor League camp.

The following four players have been optioned to Triple-A Rochester: Right-handed pitchers David Bromberg, Eric Hacker and Anthony Swarzak, and outfielder Rene Tosoni.

The following three players have been optioned to Double-A New Britain: Right-handed pitcher Deolis Guerra, infielder Chris Parmelee and outfielder Joe Benson.

The following players have been reassigned to Minor League camp: Right-handed pitchers Yorman Bazardo and Kyle Gibson, catchers Jair Fernandez and Chris Herrmann, and infielders Ray Chang, Brian Dozier and Justin Huber.

The Twins now have 45 players in camp: 21 pitchers (four non-roster), six catchers (four non-roster), 10 infielders (two non-roster), and eight outfielders (two non-roster).

www.twinsbaseball.com

THERE'S A REAL WORLD OUT THERE

2011-03-12T08:28:00.000-08:00

Japan is besieged by a natural disaster worse than my most vivid nightmares. The Middle East is erupting in violence. A tour bus in the Bronx flipped over and 13 people who were enjoying themselves at Mohegan Sun an hour earlier were killed.

Gas prices are threatening to approach $5. Partisan politics have hit a boiling point in Wisconsin where politicians actually fleed the state and abandoned their responsibilities rather than representing their constituents.

Now, will someone please explain to me why I should give a hoot about a bunch of spoiled football players under the misguided direction of power-mad unions and owners greedy enough to make King Midas seem like a benefactor threatening the NFL season?

One other thought regarding the hypocrisy of big-time college sports ...

Kids are recruited out of their poverty-stricken surroundings to represent dear old State U. They are given free education, which I wholeheartedly agree is invaluable, but in many cases is not a practical benefit. These kids spend hours and hours practicing and playing. Ostensibly, they are spending time on their studies, too.
When do they have time to go to work to make a few dollars? They don't. Then when they sell some memorabilia to put some jingle in their pockets, they're treated like criminals. Others ARE resorting to criminal activity, perhaps out of desperation.

As they work at their respective games to fill the stadiums and arenas with fat cats plying $200 tickets, $7 hot dogs and $5 sodas, the colleges are filling their coffers, but God forbid a player sells some memorabilia. The system stinks! The NCAA is an anachronistic joke! Big time college programs are in cahoots with these amateur sports organizations with back-alley agents that prey on high school athletes are like organized crime syndicates and drug cartels. Stop this endless cycle of filthy recruiting practices and exploitation of kids who may not be geared to take advantage of higher education.

You want to see college sports the way they ought to be, go down to Wesleyan or Yale,

Hall-Holy Cross box score -- the correct one

2011-03-11T06:55:00.000-08:00

In case anybody is interested in the correct box score from Hall's incredible victory Thursday night in Waterbury, courtesy of the West Hartford Press.

Also, it was reported that Hall program is moving into semifinals for the first time. Hall athletic administrator Maryanne Seguro's exceptional research tells us that the Warriors under coach Kathy Walling guided the 1977 team to the finals. Hall lost to Lee-New Haven, 37-35.

Hall 62, Holy Cross 54
Class LL Tournament
(Quarterfinal)

Hall (22-3): Sara Binkhorst 8-14-32, Anna Alferi 0-1-1, Moira Honyotski 3-3-9, Ariana Nestler 2-0-5, Shannon Griffith 0-2-2, Allyson Swaby 3-1-7, Alannah Boyle 0-4-4, Hayley Mullins 1-0-2. Totals 17-25-62.

Holy Cross (23-2): Brianna Ferraro 2-0-6, Angelica Ariola 4-2-12, Melissa DiNino 1-1-3, Briana Bradford 4-6-15, Danielle Dorsett 4-1-9, Kiera O’Donnell 2-0-4, Gloria Christiano 2-0-5, Amy Stafford 0-0-0, Alana McIldowie 0-0-0. Totals 19-10-54.

Hall 7 17 17 21 – 62
HC 8 13 16 17 – 54

Three-point goals: Hall – Binkhorst 2, Nestler; HC – Ferraro 2, Ariola 2, Bradford, Christiano.

Whether it’s Hall-Conard or Conard-Hall, what a week!

2011-03-04T12:06:00.001-08:00

If you’ll allow this newcomer some flexibility in his first few months of covering your town, I suppose I can call it Hall-Conard Week.

Why is Hall listed first? Conard comes first in the alphabet but Hall is the original West Hartford high school. Conard proved its superiority in a football season where both made the playoffs. Hall has won out in basketball with sweeps on both the boys and girls side. Blue is prettier than red.

I’m sure proponents of either school can come up with reasons why it should be first and foremost, but the late February edition of Conard-Hall Week was of consequence to me.

The pageantry and mutual respect afforded by both sides at the boys basketball game Feb. 22 was different than any high school sports rivalry phenomenon I’ve ever witnessed.

The game was at Hall so blue predominated. Everything else was even-stephen. Even Stephen Blanchfield, the public address announcer who coaches sports at both schools, balances things pretty well. Bill Watson, the peerless “Voice of Conard,” does the same.

Okay, so he accentuated the Hall players when they made hoops but that’s understandable. He made sure to balance out the halftime entertainment, which featured a routine from the Hall jazz dancers and one by the Conard cheerleaders. He also afforded equal honors to the seniors from both schools playing in their final Hall-Conard tilt.

The reason all this is so unique to me is because the crosstown rivalry is something I didn’t witness growing up in Hamden. Our rival was Notre Dame-West Haven and the dastardly Green Knights whipped my Green Dragons so soundly and so often in football that I had indigestion before the Thanksgiving meal was even served.

Prior to taking on this position with the West Hartford Press, I served the great City of New Britain for 14 years.

By the time I arrived, tales of New Britain-Pulaski had faded into the domain of men my age reminiscing at football tailgate parties and the VFW Hall. There was no arch-rivalry during my days in the Hardware City. The Berlin-New Britain football game is only two years old and the rest of the teams are in different CCC divisions.

I did cover the Bristol Eastern-Bristol Central rivalry from 1991 through 1994 but the only place it really played out in a discernible way was at the wrestling match. I’ll always remember Bristol as a wrestling town. Their Thanksgiving football game – the Battle for the Bell – never took on the aura of the Hall-Conard matchup.

To comprehend fully the nature of the Conard-Hall rivalry, I went to the annals of local history to dig up a few thoughts.

The Conard-Hall Millennium Football Game (played on Nov. 18, 2000), appropriately billed as “A Celebration of a Proud Rivalry of Friends and Neighbors,” had some juicy philosophical tidbits.

The introduction compared the game to Yale-Harvard.

“For those of us in West Hartford, reference to The Game has a meaning closer to home: the Conard-Hall high school football game wagered (sic) each November,” the anonymous introductory statement read. “We think of The Game in very intimate terms. After all, these are our friends, neighbors and relatives who come face to face each fall. … Bragging rights are a secondary byproduct of the opportunity to see old friends, exchange old memories and introduce another group of young people to this annual ritual of friendly competition.”

Perhaps nobody is more interested, yet walks the line of Hall-Conard neutrality, better than West Hartford athletic director Betty Remigino-Knapp.

“It’s like having two children and I love them both,” said Remigino-Knapp, who graduated from Hall, but coached cross country and track at Conard. “I hope it’s always good competition, that it’s not lopsided and they show sportsmanship.”

She offers the perfect analogy. Just like two children, they scrap, but when one of them goes out to face the outside world, they remember that they’re family. Blood, whether its Conard red or Hall blue, runs thicker than water.

Developing talent for Twins is Rock Cats’ first concern

2011-02-26T07:34:00.000-08:00

By most standards, the 2010 New Britain Rock Cats season would elicit the kind of reaction that no manager or organization would want to endure.

The team finished with a franchise-worst 44-98 record, which ranked it on the bottom rung in all of affiliated baseball let alone the Eastern League.

But before history passes judgment on the team, that history must be allowed to play out, and that’s why manager Jeff Smith gets high grades from the parent Minnesota Twins and has high expectations for 2011.

One of his players – outfielder Ben Revere – even made the jump from the Double-A EL right past Triple-A and directly into the American League Central pennant race. Smith delivered the good news to Revere in what he called his high point of last season.

Others like right-handed hurler Kyle Gibson had successful Triple-A forays and are knocking on the door of their big league indoctrinations. Gibson was the Twins’ Minor League Pitcher of the Year.

And leave us not forget that the Rock Cats attracted a franchise-best 368,523, or 5,500 per opening. No matter what the Cats do on the field, the attraction of high-level baseball at an affordable price with trimmings for the entire family has struck a chord with Connecticut and Western Massachusetts.

Attendance and the continued flow of the Twins’ exceptional player development machine made a .310 winning percentage less of a factor, based on the smiles sported by Smith and the Rock Cats’ staff led by president and CEO Bill Dowling at the Wood-n-Tap in Hartford Feb. 16.

“We’ve now sold 115,000 tickets (for 2011), which is a 15,000 increase from last year and we’re shooting to get in the neighborhood of 170 to 175,000 by opening day and I think we’ll be able to do it,” Dowling said. “It’s been a great offseason for us. …

“It seems to keep on going and going and going. We seem to be like the Energizer bunny. At the end of every season, we say to ourselves, ‘God, can this happen again?’ and for the last five years we’ve drawn over 300,000 and over 350,000 for the last three. The indications are that this will be another banner year.”

Smith said that he blocked last year’s record out on Jan. 1.

“I’m a person who does not look back,” said Smith, summing up 2010 as an adversity-builds-character experience for his young team. “I like to look forward and that’s why I’m so excited about 2011 and the players are the same way.”

Smith expects Twins Minor League Player of the Year, outfielder Joe Benson, to be a leader on the 2011 squad. Benson and Gibson will be in major league camp for spring training. So will Revere, Rock Cats outfielder/first baseman Chris Parmelee and right-hander Carlos Gutierrez.

“We’ll be well-represented by last year’s New Britain team and other guys who have played here in the past,” said Smith, giving the only forecast he could with spring training holding all the answers.

The minor leaguers report to Fort Myers, Fla., March 11.

Smith said the Twins went against their grain in signing minor league free agents, which should strengthen the organization’s base.

“It keeps the guys who you saw develop and become better ballplayers will be right here in New Britain,” he said. “I always think the second year in Double-A, the league starts to slow down a little bit, the pitching looks a little easier, you’re a little more mature, you’ve gained from adversity. We’ll see a lot of repeat guys here.”

The team comes to New Britain April 4 for its annual Elks Club benefit dinner and media day workout before embarking on a road trip to Richmond and Harrisburg. The home opener is slated for April 14 at 6:05 p.m.

Pitching coach Stu Cliburn returns for his 10th season in New Britain. Former Angels and Red Sox slugger Tom Brunansky will serve his first season as hitting coach.

A LOOK BACK AND A LOOK AHEAD

2011-02-19T07:53:00.000-08:00

I have some more personal stuff to share that I hope will interest you.

ON LEAVING THE NEW BRITAIN HERALD

I thought I would have some deep regrets about leaving the New Britain Herald, where I wrote sports for 14 years before joining the West Hartford Press on Nov. 19. Three months later, I don't have a one.

I miss the coaches, athletic directors and the kids.

I would have liked to seen Max DeLorenzo, the Berlin running back headed for UConn, when he made that decision. DeLorenzo is a respectful, appreciative, mature kid who you can't help but like. Yet for a DeLorenzo in Berlin, there is a Jonathan Esposito at Conard. Take that backfield and you not only have a pair of punishing ground-gainers but also a couple of future leaders. When I interviewed Esposito, he reminded me so much of DeLorenzo. I hope they both find great success.

I miss covering New Britain High basketball. I haven't been able to bring myself to the NBHS gym nor have I looked in on the boys team and new coach Todd Stigliano. Stigs is a great guy, a great choice and I miss him, but I've been told there's no crying in basketball so I haven't visited yet. I did see Tasha Manzie and the Hurricane ladies on the road at Northwest and I had to go into the corner of the gym to compose myself. How I miss and respect Tasha and her assistant Mike Jones. Boy did their team pick up steam as the season moved on. So did Stigs' boys. Great days are ahead for hoop in Hardware City.

But the daily grind was no longer that alluring to me. The deadlines at the Herald shrank from midnight to 11 and finally to 10. My stories could no longer be as thorough and box scores are now only occasional. Box scores are the essence of local sports and their omission leaves a huge gap. They provide a brief but complete view of the game and ostensibly include the names of all who played, which is what the people want to see in their daily paper. Typing in the cold after a football or soccer game in late fall is no fun. Searching for someplace warm to write with that deadline clock beating down is hard on the writer and provides no justice for the reader.

Now, I at least know that my stories will be read and re-read before they are made available to the public. No more glaring typos that nobody had the time to pick up. No more trying to get feeling back in these aging digits.

I also enjoy the idea that I get to pick what stories run and what the headlines and photo captions say. I found that to be a source of angst at the Herald. No longer.

'Tis a far, far better place I'm at, my friends, and I'm having fun.

ROCK CATS

No, I'm not leaving the Rock Cats. I'll be around for my 15th year of coverage, but you'll have to get the West Hartford Press or check out this blog to get the kind of in-depth, experienced view that you're used to.

The Rock Cats attract more than 350,000 fans a year and pump their energy back into the communities they serve by engaging their players and supporting worthy causes. The most successful sports franchise in the history of a state with a New York-Boston complex is both stunning and should be embraced.

Did it ever occur to anybody that Hartford simply is not a major league city? Nearly 370,000 fans comprehended that last year as they gained entrance to New Britain Stadium. Most were probably glad they didn't have to pay hundreds for tickets, a hundred more to park and face a long ride home.

Yes, the Rock Cats have carved out a niche that Connecticut fans and I appreciate and I'd like to keep that going.

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL

Will I watch MLB games on television this year? Of course. Will I go to a game? Heck no.

Baseball at its highest level remains a travesty where greed runs even more rampant than it does in other aspects of American society.

The Red Sox will win the World Series, I hear people trumpet. Well they should, shouldn't they? They've gone out and bought nearly every able-bodied player they can, and a 162-game season allows the cream to rise to the top.

The Orioles may pull an upset now and again but they'll never be able to compete for a division title with the Yankees and the Red Sox stockpiling their rosters with millionaires and passing their burgeoning expenses along to the fan. If it's worth thousands of dollars to puff your chest out because a bunch of superstarts did what they were supposed to do, be my guest. Anybody can buy a Red Sox hat but only a couple can buy pennants.

By the time the Red Sox and Yankees are battling for the AL pennant, I'll be happily engaged in bringing the people of West Hartford local football and soccer news. Buying pennants isn't my idea of sports excitement. The action costs a lot less and is no less exciting right down the street, and those are our kids providing it. They're more important to me than greedy unions and misguided millionaires and they should be to you, too.

HERALD: I'LL MISS THE PEOPLE

2011-02-19T07:10:00.000-08:00

(From November, 2010)

We’ve been through an awful lot together since my byline first appeared on these pages but my time is drawing near. I will be leaving the New Britain Herald for another journalistic endeavor by the time Thursday’s paper hits the street.

The decision to leave the Herald was a very difficult one. The coaches, athletic directors, student-athletes and parents representing our six schools are good friends and have been steadfast partners in my quest to bring our readers breaking news and poignant features.

My intent has been primarily to inform you and at the same time entertain, although sometimes I feel more informative and other times more like fishing for a chuckle. Of course, there are times when I get very serious, and I want to offer one interesting paradox before I go on to some nostalgia.

What bothers me most about sports journalism these days, particularly in the electronic media and uncontrollably on the internet, is that so many writers/talk show yappers are putting themselves ahead of the events.

There is no ‘i’ in team but you don’t have to do much scrambling to see there is ‘me.’ Egotism covers up low self-esteem very nicely, so those who jam themselves to the forefront are sending us that kind of message about themselves. If you’ve ever done any research using newspapers from long ago, you had trouble even finding bylines.

Yet where would local sports be without the people who do belong in the headlines? The people who have made sports work in the greater New Britain area are some of the finest I have ever known.

My time with the Herald began in 1995 alongside legendary sports editor Bart Fisher. Now there’s the perfect example of a man who worked overtime to keep himself in the background while he expounded about what separates New Britain sports from the rest of the world.

Before I could pinch myself that I had the chance to work side by side with the man who must go down as New Britain’s greatest sports journalist, it was over. Bart moved on to take a position at Central Connecticut State University.

He was replaced by Gerry deSimas Jr., whose dedication to high school athletics and their legacy was second to none. But Gerry’s time at Herald Square was also far too short for the good of us all. Neill Ostrout, Billy Bernardi, Marcus Rosano, Brian Straight and current staffers Matt Straub and Brad Carroll followed and I enjoyed working shoulder to shoulder with each and every one of them.

The highlights have been many and I’d like to share my thoughts about a few of them with you.

For the first few years, covering New Britain High sports was about the same as covering the others. My wife Lisa is an NBHS grad and even before I began with the Herald, I recall going to Chick Shea Gym for a tournament basketball game between her Hurricanes and my Hamden High Green Dragons.

I saw Stan Glowiak for the first time, slamming his shoes to the hardwood to get the attention of a team led by Tebucky Jones and Malcolm Yelling. The Dragons won the game to my extreme satisfaction. Little did I know that a time would soon come when I’d feel differently. Stan is now a treasured friend and my dresser is packed with NBHS t-shirts.

I remember exactly when the transformation occurred. I was at Manchester High in 1998 for a football game. Coach Lenny Corto’s club had its eye on a Class LL berth. Its only defeat came at Southington when a two-point conversion fell short. Just around kickoff time, I heard the big sound of the Golden Hurricane Marching Band piercing the chilly air with their trademark fight song, “Bingo.”

Don’t ask me why but it moved me. Tailback Chris Bellamy, who would later excel at UConn, ran wild that night and the Hurricanes crushed the Indians. Unfortunately, one of the better New Britain teams did not qualify for the tournament despite losing just one game. I began to understand the New Britain High mystique, and shortly thereafter, it was engraved on the walls of my heart.

Later that winter, I fell in love with Beryl Piper’s fabulous basketball team that won a Class LL title by avenging its only defeat of the year versus Fairfield. What a team! Center Kenitra Johnson, Lindsay Ryba, Lindsey O’Neil, Missy Czeremcha had that special chemistry.

The following fall, O’Neil and Czeremcha led the NBHS volleyball team back from an 0-2 deficit in the Class L final to humble Cheshire and hush its rooting section that began to celebrate just a little too early. It was the crowning moment for coach Michelle Abraham, who still brings that same unbridled passion to every match.

The tenure of controversial football coach Jack Cochran will always elicit heated debate. Some say he helped a lot of kids find their way. Others say he helped only those with Division I talent. Some were glad to see him go. Many wish he never did.

I know Cochran did some things that he shouldn’t have but speaking from my perspective, I had a ball covering his teams that won three Class LL championships in a four-year span.

Soccer. It was a dirty word to me before I arrived at these papers (I worked at the Bristol Press from 1991-95) but venerable Farmington High boys coach Steve Waters took me to school. So did Wethersfield boys coach Rob Jachym. I began to comprehend the difference in covering their sport as opposed to baseball, football and basketball. Soccer gave me the chance to be more descriptive, even a little poetic.

During my winters at the Herald, I would circle all the Wednesdays and Saturdays for wrestling. I had always been a hockey guy in the winter – Hamden never even had wrestling – but I relished the great match-ups and superb wrestlers at our schools.

Former Berlin High coach Jim Day was and continues to be one of the state’s premier ambassadors for the sport he loves. His coaching staff, the parade of supportive alumni and the supreme dedication emanating from every corner of the program made it special.

As I sort through the memories, I realize that it probably wasn’t a good idea to mention names because there are so many more, enough to fill this section for a week.

Fifteen years is a substantial portion of a lifetime. Performing the duties of a sportswriter has been a labor of love. When you love what you do and you care deeply about how your paper is perceived, you don’t walk away when your 40 hours elapse. For that reason, 15 years seem more like 25 but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

That’s because of the supreme reward you receive when you write local sports for so long.

When I first joined the Herald, I promptly fell in love with girls basketball due to the amazing battles between Newington and Southington. Southington’s premier player was Jen Gombotz, tough as nails and as determined to win as any athlete I’ve ever met. She’s now Jen Micowski and she’s coaching Newington volleyball in the fall, Plainville basketball in the winter and Blue Devils softball in the spring.

I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again – if I ever have to go to war, I want Jen in the foxhole with me.

Todd Stigliano was a scrappy guard for Newington basketball and an amazing enough soccer star that he played in college. He is now giving back as a soccer official and Glowiak’s replacement as the NBHS boys hoop coach.

Jeff Brunetti and Dave Francalangia were awesome soccer players. They’re now coaching soccer at their respective alma maters, Newington and Berlin. Russ Crist was a standout for Farmington High basketball. He now stands out as the FHS girls coach. The common theme is that these people have dedicated their lives to giving back. I am thrilled that I may have been a part of their development in a small way.

And then there’s Erin Pac. How ironic that the former FHS three-sport star and Olympic bronze medal winner would tender her retirement as a world-class bobsled driver the same week that I’m leaving the Herald.

Last but certainly not least, there are the New Britain Rock Cats.

Spending hours and hours with people like CEO Bill Dowling, his brother/media relations man Bob, radio voice Jeff Dooley, venerable scoreboard operator Larry Michaels, official scorer and former NBHS wrestling coach Ed Smith constitute one of my life’s greatest pleasures.

Getting to know and gaining the respect of incredible baseball people like former Twins GM Terry Ryan, the Cliburn brothers Stu and Stan, Hall of Famer Paul Molitor, redoubtable ex-skipper Tom Kelly and players like Joe Mauer, Michael Cuddyer, Justin Morneau and Doug Mientkiewicz was wonderful beyond my wildest dreams.

I promise you that if you’re looking for me, I will still be a constant visitor to the New Britain Stadium press box, my second home. I made sure of that during negotiations for the new job.

Leave it to my favorite president Theodore Roosevelt for coming up with the thought that sums up my feelings about my Herald tenure.

“Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.” My work here was well worth doing and I’ll relish that prize until my dying day.

BELICHICK CAN'T SWAY CONARD'S ESPOSITO

2011-02-19T07:06:00.000-08:00

Record-breaking Conard High running back Jonathan Esposito took one look at Princeton University and immediately got the feeling that he belongs within the hallowed Ivy walls of the southern New Jersey campus.

But a phone call one Sunday last fall got him to thinking. New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick was calling on behalf of his alma mater, Wesleyan.

Esposito gave some serious thought but his first impression turned out to be a lasting one. Esposito made it official Feb. 11 at a ceremony at Conard that he would soon be Princeton-bound.

“It worked out the way me and my family wanted it to all along,” he said. “Going to Princeton for the first time over the summer, right when I stepped on the campus, I knew that’s where I wanted to be.”

Esposito leaves Conard with school records in career yardage (4,570), points (360) and touchdowns (64). As a senior, he ran for 1,800 yards and crossed the goal line 29 times. Considering that Princeton and Wesleyan were interested in him, his academic standing at Conard is impeccable. So is his character.

As much as communicating with Belichick enthralled him, he was captivated by Princeton’s history-rich campus.

“It’s such a prestige school and there’s so much history behind it,” Esposito said. “Everything there was just flawless. Princeton just had something that no other school had.”

He visited Yale and Trinity as well as Wesleyan.

“It’s not too far away because I’m very close with my family,” he said. “That was important. It’s perfect.”

The call from Belichick spawned second thoughts, although at first he didn’t think it was legitimate.

“I thought it was a joke,” Esposito said. “I just woke up from a nap, it’s Sunday afternoon. That Saturday I had SATs and a game so I was drained. Right when I woke up, the phone rings.”

Belichick introduced himself.

“Not in my wildest dreams would I think he would call me so I hung up. I thought it was a prank call,” Esposito said. “He ended up calling right back and we lost service so we got disconnected.

“I really thought nothing of it. All along I thought it was kid, a joke.”

The next night, he was watching Monday Night Football with his mother when he received an e-mail from Wesleyan coach Mike Whalen telling him that Belichick was going to call.

“My jaw drops and my mother asks me what’s wrong. … He was great,” Esposito said.

The decision to stick with his initial instinct settled in during the first of the successive snow days on Feb. 1.

“[Princeton] called me and said they got everything cleared through admissions and they wanted to offer me a spot,” Esposito said. “Of course I accepted right away. If that didn’t work out, I probably would be going to Wesleyan.”

Esposito said he could reap the ultimate in academic rewards from either school.

“In terms of academics, they’re both phenomenal institutions,” he said. “Everything was comparable. I loved all the coaches, all the players, but Princeton is Division I football and Wesleyan is Division III. Big difference.”

Esposito plans to study business – economics, accounting or finance – but wishes to keep his options open.

“What was also appealing to me is you go in and take your requirement classes so you can get a better feel of what you like,” he said. “I’m looking forward to working hard and finding out what I want to do.”

West Hartford: A great sports town

2011-02-19T07:03:00.000-08:00

“The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.”

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

My affiliation with the sports people of West Hartford is in its third month and the most satisfying aspect is the new friendships I’ve made as the old ones have been reinforced.

Three months is a short time yet I have had so many intriguing conversations with you both face to face and via email that I consider my footing strong and the future filled with promise.

In West Hartford, everybody has been wonderful beyond my highest expectations.

The coaches and administrators at the public high schools have responded quickly and productively to my requests to bring me up to date on a sports history that is richer than I could have possibly imagined. I still have so much to learn and my hunger to do so is avid so I welcome emails and/or personal discussions about sports here.

Betty Remigino-Knapp, the athletic director for Hall and Conard, has been such a great help, and in a time of great duress for her and her colleagues. Betty looks at the weekly weather forecasts like outnumbered pioneers ducking behind wagons during an Indian raid. If there are any more postponements, West Hartford may be the scene of the very first basketball/baseball doubleheader in April.

Yet Betty and her administrators at Conard (Kerry Roller) and Hall (Maryanne Seguro) still have found the time to fill my email inbox with a treasure trove of information that only nostalgia nuts and sports historians could love.

For example, Betty allowed me to borrow a rare copy of the program from the Conard-Hall Millenium Football Game held on Nov. 18, 2000 at Hall’s Robert S. Chalmers Stadium. The contest honored two of the most dedicated football coaches in state history – Bob McKee of Conard (1957-83) and Frank Robinson Jr. of Hall (1957-87).

I knew of the gentlemen through the unparalleled story-telling of my dearly departed friend and colleague Bo Kolinsky as part of the ritual we enjoyed in promoting the annual Gold Key Dinner run by our beloved Connecticut Sports Writers’ Alliance.

Among the many things I didn’t know, McKee, for whom Conard’s beautiful stadium is named, actually began his coaching career at Hall. Indeed, he was the city’s first male physical education teacher and guided Hall to the championship of the Central Connecticut Interscholastic League in 1951.

McKee was 168-61-15 at Conard and held a 13-11-3 advantage over Hall in the big series.

I also didn’t know that current Conard coach Rob Cersosimo, a legendary teacher/mentor in his own right, married McKee’s oldest daughter Debbie. Now there’s ascendancy to the throne that even Queen Victoria could have appreciated.

Coach Robinson, not to be confused with current coach Frank Robinson Jr. (his son) or the Baseball Hall of Famer who was my idol as a child (no relation), was 201-92-9. I never knew Cersosimo played for Robinson at Hall in the late 1960s. Can you imagine that somewhere there lies royal blue beneath all that crimson?

I glanced at the Conard roster in 2000 and was overcome by the names of quality assistants listed beneath Cersosimo’s name.

The list starts with former Avon coach Jeff Redman. Peter Pfeffer recently resigned as the ultra- successful coach at Glastonbury. Paul Philipon guided Bristol Eastern to some great seasons and Marco Pizzoferrato has guided the Manchester program on its steady rise. There you have Connecticut high school’s premier cradle of coaches.

I’ve learned why West Hartford’s high schools were named for two gentlemen named Hall and Conard.

William H. Hall, a man known for his love of children and kindness, was instrumental in planning the high school that opened in 1924 in the building that later housed Town Hall. Frederick U. Conard was chairman of the school board who died suddenly in 1947 as the plans for a second high school were being formulated. The school bearing his name opened 10 years later.

Before I close, I think I’ve come up with another nomination for nicest man in the universe. That would be Steve Blanchfield, whose love for West Hartford high school sports runs deep.

Steve can be found on the Hall sidelines at every football game as an assistant to Coach Robinson III and manning the scorer’s table during the winter. I didn’t realize until I read his stirring essay in that 2000 football book that he coaches tennis at Conard, too. Steve’s essay is in the “must read” category on local sports’ best-seller list.

What people like the Robinsons, Cersosimos, Remigino-Knapp and Blanchfield have bestowed upon the sports legacy of the city cannot be commuted in tangible terms.

Within the hearts, souls and minds of thousands of Hall/Conard athletes past and present are traces of their love, dedication and understanding that carry the message that scholastic sports help provide a foundation for a fruitful future.

Ken Lipshez is the sports editor of the West Hartford Press. You can reach him via email at klipshez@thevalleypress.net or by telephone at 860-651-4700 with your comments, criticism or ideas.

OUTDOOR HOCKEY: CAPTIVATING, BUT COLD

2011-02-19T06:59:00.000-08:00

The scene is surreal.

The sky is robin’s-egg blue with a purple haze stretching along the entire horizon, curling behind Connecticut’s fabled rolling hills, encircling the flat riverside landscape that was once an East Hartford airfield.

I stand alone in the press box on the fifth floor at Rentschler Field, home of the UConn football team. But there are no yard lines or hash marks, no Husky logos and no discernible end zones.

The luminous yellow goal posts poking through the snow are the only gridiron reminders, for this is no football field at the present. Today – February 10, 2011 – it’s a hockey place.

The only verdant vestige was the big “C” in the logo of the American Hockey League’s Connecticut Whale at center ice. Every square inch of the dense, green sod that generally grabs fans as they walk through Rentschler’s portals was covered with over three feet of snow.

The Hall/Conard co-op girls hockey team led by the Whale mascot Pucky streams from the service entrance at the south side of the stadium to the booming strains of Ozzie Osbourne’s “Crazy Train.” They are soon joined by Simsbury for a pre-game skate.

Maybe 200 hardy souls equipped with every imaginable cold-weather accessory look on from the home side of the stadium. Photographers, rink attendants and game officials gather around the outskirts of the new structure, constructed about 30 feet from the first row of spectators.

Is this madness or is it some alluring adventure?

It falls precariously between the two depending on your perspective, and it seems to me to be a very thin line.

Hockey the way it’s supposed to be, I’ve heard some say.

You won’t get me to pay $20 to $85 to see outdoor hockey in February, but I’m an older guy who has covered his share of late autumn football games. I’m not fond of being cold and I’m not a fan of professional hockey. If I was 23, could find a way to bring in a hip flask of blackberry brandy and had a bunch of friends as crazy as me, I’d go along with the crowd.

But given the warmth of the press box and the pure exhilaration of the girls on the teams, it was a worthwhile trip.

“It was so fun. It was great,” said Brianne O’Connor, who scored the third-period goal that tied the game. “It was kind of like playing pond hockey. The ice is really different.”

Bruce Berlet, who once covered the Whalers for the Hartford Courant in the NHL team’s heyday and now works for event organizer Howard Baldwin, said that the girls’ game and subsequent youth games served to “break in” the ice for the main event scheduled for Feb. 19.

The frigid north wind that blew through the stadium’s open end calmed down after the sun set.

“It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be” O’Connor said.

Hall/Conard had beaten Simsbury the night before, 3-2, at Veterans Memorial Rink in West Hartford. The teams skated to a tie earlier in the season, so they expended their two-game regular-season allotment. Thus, the game at Rentschler was a “friendly.”

Nevertheless, the West Hartford girls exulted in their locker room after the game. It surely was a moment they’ll never forget.

“Our team and Simsbury are really big rivals so it was pretty competitive,” O’Connor said. “It was pretty competitive but it was a lot of fun.”

Alyson Alissi, who scored the game-winner, echoed O’Connor’s sentiments.

“It was fun to skate on the ice but it was also good competition,” Alissi said. “They came in wanting to win really bad.”

Simsbury coach Kris Arnold, a former trainer for the Whalers, pulled his goalie in an attempt to force overtime, and the Trojans nearly did.

Said O’Connor: “It was difficult. It’s hard when they have a man up like that and you want to get it down into that open net. You’ve just got to keep the puck out of the net, and we did.”

Farmington wins CCC West wrestling tourney

2011-02-19T06:57:00.000-08:00

FARMINGTON, Feb. 12, 2011 -- Details that led to gut-wrenching setbacks during the regular season dogged the young Farmington High wrestling team as it set sail on its postseason course.

The Indians, ranked 11th in the regular season in the Norwich Bulletin wrestling poll, allowed the CCC West title to slip through their hands.

A pending major decision evolved into a pin that eventually cost them the match with Southington. A chance to share the title eluded them Wednesday when they lost to Simsbury by criteria (tiebreaker) in the campaign’s final dual meet Feb. 9.

Redemption was the byword Saturday when nine made the finals and four claimed championships as the Indians swept to a decisive victory in the CCC West tournament at their home gym.

“That was a hard loss we had on Wednesday and we were able to come right back today,” Farmington coach Eric Misko said. “In wrestling, you’re going to lose to someone at some point. It’s how you can find a way to pick yourself up, get back out there and win another match. If you’re able to do that, you’re going to have a lot of success, on the mat and in life.”

Farmington had a representative in the top four in each of the 14 weight classes except 145 and 285. Simsbury, which had one champion in Nate Beerman (130) and five runners-up, finished second at 153.

“We put six in the finals, five in the consolation finals,” Simsbury coach Ernie Goodwin said. “We had two first-year wrestlers take third – [Bradley] Helmkamp and [Ed] Novak – which is outstanding. All my senior captains were all in the finals – [Connor] Ciment, [Josh] Gowdy and Ben Todd – so ultimately I’ve got to be pretty pleased. Would we have liked to win it? Yes.”

Conard took third, Newington fourth and Southington was fifth despite clinching the division’s regular-season crown with a win over New Britain last Wednesday.
Farmington was represented on the top rung of the podium by Eric Suhre (103 pounds), Garrett Hastings (119), Ryan Rigney (135) and Shaun Rios (189). Zach Daugherty (130), James Paigo (140), Tyler Strauss (152) and Harry Pacheco (160) were turned back in the finals. Matt Natale (125) wrestled back to third place after losing by fall in the championship semifinals.

Beerman went to double overtime to eke out a 1-0 verdict over Daugherty. John DePasquale (125), Ciment (135), Gowdy (145), Stephon King (189) and Todd (285) finished second. Ben Durst (112), Alex Kozieradski (119), Novak (152) and Helmkamp (215) placed.

Hastings, one of seven Farmington underclassmen (sophomores and freshmen) to place in the top four, reprised a regular-season victory over Nate Solomon of Southington. He pinned him in the dual meet but faced a stiffer test Saturday.

After a scoreless first period, Solomon chose the down slot and escaped within six seconds for a 1-0 lead. Hastings took him down 27 seconds later, paving the way for a 5-3 win.

“He leaned back and as I was trying to get back points using my chin and holding his arms, I didn’t get good position on him and he was able to escape,” Hastings said. “I knew at that point that they only way I’d get the lead was a takedown. I didn’t want to wait.”

He heard Misko urging him to take action and he used the double-leg maneuver he practiced all week.

Perhaps the tournament’s feature match came in the final at 145 where Gowdy squared off with Conard’s Lucas Muntz, a runner-up at 140 in Class L last year as a freshman.

Muntz recorded a takedown in the first period. He selected the down position for the second and executed a reversal. Gowdy got in the scoring column with a reversal but Muntz took him down again with just four seconds left in the period.

With Gowdy down to start the third, Muntz turned him for two back points before Gowdy battled back with a reversal to cut the final margin to 8-3.

“I think Josh ultimately was a little too worried about what [Muntz] was going to do instead of what he does,” Goodwin said. “Right there at the end of the match he got a little mad … and that’s when he scored points.”

Rigney, a freshman, outpointed Ciment in the closely fought final at 135. Rigney scored a takedown 14 seconds into the bout and rode Ciment nearly the whole period before surrendering an escape with 28 seconds left.

Down for the second, Rigney promptly escaped and notched another takedown 20 seconds later for a 5-1 lead. Ciment was down for the start of the third and Rigney rode him for nearly the entire period to secure the win.

PERSONALLY, FROM MY HEART

2011-02-17T06:07:00.000-08:00

I truly cannot believe the tremendous outpouring of requests I've had to post the work I've done since I left the New Britain Herald for the Valley Press/West Hartford Press newspapers on Nov. 19. Thank you for your incredible loyalty.

The Valley Press/West Hartford Press website does not serve as a vehicle for online stories. My stories generally are available only in the newspapers.

Most of my work is being done in West Hartford, where the general populace and the administrators at its three great high schools -- Conard, Hall and Northwest Catholic -- have been outstanding beyond words. While I miss my friends in New Britain, Southington, Plainville, Newington and Berlin dearly, I am very happy in my new surroundings and feel very secure that the move I made was in my best interests.

The West Hartford Press is distributed free to residents. Any resident who presently does not receive it should pick up the paper at locations in the city, fill out the request-for-delivery coupon and send it along. Non-residents who wish to receive the paper are encouraged to contact the office at 860-651-4700 and purchase a subscription. I promise you won't be disappointed. I write a column -- Straight from the Lip -- in each weekly issue, which also features great columns from veteran WTIC radio sports commentator Scott Gray.

In the days ahead, I will go back and post some of the columns I've written for my new papers. I intend to write up detailed accounts of the 2011 New Britain Rock Cats when I am able. I really had no idea how much so many of you already miss my Cats coverage and I'm hoping that my change of venues does not affect my presence at New Britain Stadium. The current plan is to be there when I can through the end of the high school season and regularly during the summer.

Officially speaking

2011-01-26T19:41:00.000-08:00

(This article appeared in the Jan. 27 issues of The Valley Press and West Hartford Press)

Never has there been a more underappreciated, misunderstood group of people than the intrepid men and women who officiate our high school sporting events.

At best, they’re invisible when players, coaches and fans opine that they are performing at their best. When the time comes that they are noticed, it generally coincides with a cascade of catcalls and various suggestions on how they can better do their job.

Focusing on basketball, one of the more difficult decision on the part of the referees has to be how to handle the hand-checking and jostling that is often rampant at the point of attack.

Some teams stress aggressive man-to-man defense, which inevitably increases the occurrence of contact. If both teams turn up the heat and the officials interpret the rules literally, games could easily lose their flow and the number of disqualifications as a result of the five-foul limit could turn the game into a travesty.

On Jan. 15, the Simsbury girls encountered Northwest Catholic in West Hartford. Northwest coach Karl Herbert bases his defensive philosophy on aggressive play. His young team executed the strategy exquisitely at the start of the game and took command of the game.

Simsbury coach Jim Fiedler isn’t the type to rant and rave on the sidelines. I didn’t have any idea that he was upset about the way the game was being called, but he felt the Northwest girls were getting away with hand-checking and that if affected his team’s ability to execute.

Let me stress that Fiedler approached the subject in a gentlemanly manner. I feel he had every right to question the officials’ interpretation given the nature of the game and the way it turned out (Simsbury battled back to within three points late in the game before losing, 51-46). I also feel the officials did a terrific job, handed the tough assignment of interpreting the rule in a game between two teams with divergent defensive philosophies.

“I talked to the refs about it at halftime,” Fielder said. “There’s a rule emphasis this year that you can’t hand-check on the perimeter or put your arm on the girl. [Northwest] was doing that but they weren’t calling it.”

The National Federation of State High School Associations indeed has the following statement on its website as a “point of emphasis” going into the 2010-11 season:

PERIMETER PLAY. Two illegal actions are taking place on the perimeter of the court that are particularly problematic. First, defensive players are illegally using their hands to “check” the ball handler/dribbler. …

A. Hand checking.

1) Hand checking is any tactic using the hands or arms that allows a player, on offense or defense, to control (hold, impede, push, divert, slow or prevent) the movement of an opposing player.

2) Hand checking is a foul and is not incidental contact.

3) Defensive players shall not have hand(s) on the offensive player. When a player has a hand on, two hands on or jabs a hand or forearm on an opponent, it is a foul.

4) When a player contacts an opponent with his or her hands as an aid in starting, stopping, driving around, defending a screen, controlling or anticipating the opponent’s next move, it is a foul. Players may not place their hands on an opponent with or without the ball.

5) Much of the roughness in the interscholastic game today is a direct result of not assessing the proper penalty when illegal contact with the hand(s) occurs.

Said Fiedler: “If you can hand-check and put arms on people in the perimeter, you can run a good press.”

He quoted part of the above rule.

He said the officials explained that they had called eight fouls against Northwest and just three against Simsbury.

“We don’t press and we don’t hand-check,” Fielder said. He added that they shouldn’t use the foul count as a reference in debating the interpretation of the rule.

“You don’t balance it off because one team has more fouls than the other,” he said. “You call the game as it’s played on the court. … I teach my girls not to hand-check because that’s what the rulebook says. Other teams are doing it and getting away with it.”

Aggressive, pressing defense is Herbert’s hallmark.

“With every team I’ve had, that’s what we look for,” he said. “With this team, it’s taken a little time to come so we decide to press early to create an aggressive feel. That’s how we have to play. That’s how we try to set the tempo every game so we start out pressing, we start out playing man-to-man and we start out very aggressive. Hopefully that carries throughout the game.”

He said his team has not experienced foul trouble as a result.

“Actually I’d like to see us get a little more aggressive. If that means getting more fouls diving after the ball and going more aggressively to the ball, I think I’ll live with that,” Herbert said.

“We had two of the better officials in my eyes. They let you play. Both teams are athletic. You have to let them determine how they’re going to call the game.”

I asked another official who did the Northwest-East Catholic boys game Jan. 17 and he made the same point. He said he will issue warnings if it’s getting rough and that he adjusts his approach as the game dictates.

I can’t argue with that. We don’t want games called so closely that multiple players are fouling out. On the other hand, Fiedler is right if the rulebook is to be interpreted literally.

CCC committee splits the uprights

2011-01-25T10:14:00.000-08:00

(Column is as it appeared in Jan. 20 editions of The Valley Press and West Hartford Press)

Take 32 people, most with more than a passing interest in sports.

Put them in a room together, get behind a podium with microphone in hand and proceed to ask them questions that are pertinent to the equity, balance and vitality of high school football.

You’d be almost as likely to achieve unanimity if you asked who’s better, the Yankees or Red Sox. Would you be any better off hoping that you have a room full of liberals or conservatives in front of you? You may even have trouble getting everybody to agree that it snowed last Wednesday.
That was what Newington High principal Jim Wenker and his Central Connecticut Conference realignment committee were asked to do after the 32-member league finished its second season since the bold 25 percent expansion prior to the 2009 fall season.
Glancing at the 2010 standings, we had the symmetrical package of four divisions with eight teams each. It sounds nice but there was plenty of trouble in gridiron paradise. Using the formula that determined interconference games played out of division (called crossovers), some very small schools were matched with some very large schools.
Wenker and his associates forged a new plan (see accompanying charts and story) that went over well among the league’s principals and athletic directors. Coaches weren’t part of the process, although in most cases they rank above athletic directors when it comes to knowing the details.
In a perfect world, coaches supply their opinions and athletic directors are in agreement. Athletic directors then sit down with principals and hope they can emerge with a united front.
It probably works that way in some schools, but I’ve come to know some where principals tend to be more autocratic. I guess it’s all based on trust, a willingness to defer to those with more knowledge of the situation and more broadly to what degree they believe in democracy.
When the smoke cleared on Jan. 7, the new alignment did not meet with much antipathy, and you surely won’t get any here. The safety of our kids is tantamount to anything else and the system is certainly attuned to safety precautions.
“We got screwed”

Of all the schools in the league, Farmington has among the toughest draws.

Farmington is a Class L school where football traditionally has not been the sport of choice. Soccer reigns supreme. Coach Chris Machol is doing a fabulous job of changing the culture, but I heard some in town scream those commonly heard words, “We got screwed.”

The Indians will compete in a division with Windsor, Bristol Eastern, Bristol Central, Maloney and Middletown.

Windsor is a perennial football hotbed. Bristol Eastern is coming off successive playoff seasons. Middletown has a new coach in Sal Morello, who has already turned that program around with the wealth of talent that city offers. Maloney is also coming off a strong year.

But Machol loves a challenge and sees no problems with the new alignment.
“The major difference is that in 2011, we will be playing all nine of our [mandated] games against ‘L’ schools,” he said. “In 2010, we played five ‘LL’ and four ‘L’ schools. Our schedule isn’t necessarily easier or harder, but certainly more comparable.”

Simsbury coach Jeff Osborne said the change has only minimal effect on his team. The Trojans are ‘LL’ and adjusting the divisions by enrollment isn’t going to alter much. Simsbury was included in the CCC’s large-school division since leaving the CCC West for the CCC North in 2004.

“It makes sense to structure the league by enrollment. The state playoffs are structured by enrollment,” he said. “Playing teams with like enrollments is equitable.”

I couldn’t have said it better.
A continuity issue

The changing divisional structure makes it difficult for even sports writers to follow, never mind the guy in street, and Machol sees that as a concern.

“I do think that at some point we need to settle on a division system that will remain in place (for the most part) in order to establish rivalries,” he said. “I know as both a player and coach I cherish playing rivals yearly.”

The new system provides nine mandated opponents for each school as opposed to seven with old alignment. A formula based on a team’s success rate over a two-year period determines the crossover opponent, unless it is dictated by Thanksgiving rivalry. It designated three crossovers in the old system.

Farmington begins a rivalry with Plainville next fall, one that is likely to remain in place for a long time, so it won’t be subject to the formula. But Machol feels two years of data is not enough to establish a solid base line. I agree.

“I don’t know that a two-year record is a big enough time to say that the program and feeder system are that much better than anyone else,” Machol said.

“For many schools that have a couple of down years or up years, that may have as much to do with the talent level of one or two classes of players as it does the feeder system and/or tradition. Obviously there are some teams that are consistently competitive and that speaks to the effort and talents of everyone involved from youth through varsity.”

It’s like Wenker said when addressing the fact that his school (Newington) went 0-10 last year, one short year after making it all the way to the Class L final against Masuk. If you want to get better, he said, you just have to work harder.

CCC realigns football divisions

2011-01-25T10:09:00.000-08:00

(As written in the Valley Press and West Hartford Press, Jan. 20 editions)

In its persistence to attain competitive balance, the Central Connecticut Conference football committee unveiled its second divisional realignment in four years with the expectation that this one will better stand the test of time.

The 32-member CCC will switch from four eight-team divisions to six divisions – four with five teams and two with six – mirroring the philosophy of how the CIAC defines the state playoffs and ostensibly putting an end to the mismatches that dotted the schedule the last two seasons.

The divisional alterations were contrived by a committee headed by Newington High School principal Jim Wenker. They were approved at a special meeting of the CCC’s policy board at Newington High on Jan. 7.

“Two years ago when the league expanded from 24 to 32 schools, that created some different dynamics,” Wenker said. “We got spread out between school sizes.”

The league went to a CCC North, or a large-school division, in 2004 amid the multitude of complaints from having to play Jack Cochran’s New Britain teams and Southington.
With the demise of the Northwest Conference/Nutmeg League in 2008 came amalgamation. Smaller schools like Northwest Catholic, East Catholic, Plainville, Berlin, Rocky Hill and Middletown swelled the CCC ranks to 32. The CCC has continued to examine ways of improving competitive balance.
“We had a significant number of smaller schools enter and we need to bring balance and equity,” Wenker said. “At the time, it made sense to go to a four-division configuration. We wanted competitive balance to be part of the process. We came up with a formula that made sense, taking into account school size and the strength of the program. We did that for the last two years but what we discovered is a number of inequities surfaced.”
The issue centered on the conference’s Class L schools.
Division I, which essentially replaced the CCC North as the large-school circuit, contained seven Class LL schools and Class L Windsor. Division II was split between the four remaining ‘LL’ schools and the three largest ‘L’ schools. Only one ‘L’ school – Bristol Eastern – was in Division III and six were in Division IV.
Some of the interdivisional crossover games determined by a formula based on team records over the previous two seasons created anxiety. Northwest Catholic, the smallest ‘S’ school with 307 boys, played the second largest ‘LL’ school in Glastonbury (1,076 boys) last fall. The Indians faced New Britain (the state’s largest school with 1,481 boys) in 2009. Such lopsided matchups cannot occur under the new arrangement.
“They were causes for concern among coaches, athletic directors and principals, not only based on balance and equity but on safety,” Wenker said. “The prevailing thought was we needed to match up schools by boys enrollment. That’s predominantly how it’s done at other conferences around the state and that’s how the CIAC does it [in the postseason] so it seemed fair and equitable for us to do it.”
Prior to the 2010 season, the CIAC football committee changed the postseason format from a two-tiered system with six divisions to a three-game tournament featuring eight teams in the four traditional divisions. It abandoned the ‘SS’ and ‘MM’ divisions that were established in 1981, increasing participation rate from 24 to 32 schools.
Under the CCC’s previous arrangement, an ‘L’ school in Division II potentially could have played four ‘LL’ schools within its division and two more crossing over with Division I, Wenker noted. An ‘L’ school in Division III potentially could escape having to play any ‘LL’ schools at all.
Northwest will compete in the Division III West with the four other ‘S’ schools in the league. The Indians will play those four and the five teams in the Division III East, four of them in Class M and one in Class L.
Where there were multiple crossovers last year, this year there is one – Bristol Eastern. For many schools, the crossover game winds up being the Thanksgiving rivalry. For example, Plainville (Div. III East) plays Farmington (Div. II West) by its own choice. The same for Berlin (Div. III East) choosing to meet New Britain (Div. I West).
“We have an agreement with Rocky Hill for a Thanksgiving game,” Northwest athletic director Josh Reese said. “Because Rocky Hill is within our division, we had to look outside and [Bristol Eastern] was the only one that fit.”
Reducing the crossovers thus simplified the schedule.
“Before we had multiple crossovers and that’s why we had mismatches,” Wenker said. “We’ve minimized that.”
Wenker said the committee looked at a three-division format then chose to create the subdivisions based on geography.
The teams in each subdivision are ranked by win-loss percentage over the previous two seasons to determine crossover foes for those not dictated by Thanksgiving week rivalries. Conard and Hall, for example, would play each other anyway because they’re in the same division. The formula pits Conard against RHAM-Hebron and Hall against Simsbury in 2011 crossovers.
The new alignment will run for at least two seasons ‘to ensure home-and-home relationships,” Wenker said. “We will revisit it if they ask us to, if the majority of the conference feels this configuration isn’t what we need.”
Wenker, however, said that the new alignment was accepted by the “vast majority” of administrators who considered the proposal.
“We feel as though this is our best chance going forward,” he said.

LIGHT A CANDLE FOR GREG WARREN

2010-12-31T11:57:00.000-08:00

Two men came to me with a dream.

It seemed reasonable enough, and attainable at that. Scott Zenke and Greg Warren wanted to shed light on Farmington High football. They wanted to give the kids a chance to play on Friday nights.

The usual naysayers that such dreams encounter in every town floated to the surface like an oil spill. I was particularly dumbfounded by the lady who bought a home adjacent to Farmington High School and had the audacity to tell the Common Council that the last thing she wanted was kids walking past her house at night.

I wrote some stories and editorials. Warren and Zenke cleared all the hurdles, even that ominously large one labeled public opinion. How hard they worked and how determined they were so that the Farmington High campus could be brought to life on Friday nights in autumn.

How saddened I was to hear this week between Christmas and New Year’s that death takes no holiday. Greg Warren – strong, tall, determined and civic-minded, a loving father, a dedicated husband – will now brighten heaven’s glow.

The town will be forever in his debt because he refused to yield to shortsighted neighbors who wished to remain in darkness. Funny how nearly a decade later, I hear no outcry how their delicate lives have been irreparably interrupted. Their silence is a deafening tribute to Greg Warren.

Warren looked on proudly as his daughter Katie became one of the finest softball pitchers in Farmington High history. His son Tim quarterbacked the best FHS football team in recent memory that qualified for the Class L state final in 1999. Greg wanted to make sure future Farmington fathers would have the chance to see their kids' steps toward adulthood nurtured by the improvements that he brought about.

When their dream became reality in 2002, Warren and Zenke gave me a panorama of the football field bathed in the luster of permanent lights. The marching band is playing. The cheerleaders are lined in a row on the track facing the modest grandstands and press box. The football team is huddled beneath the south goal post. I recalled the splendid feeling in my heart as I looked at the field, its north end zone framed by the inspiration of a New England autumn, the muffled echoes that only veteran public address announcer Dennis Person can muster, the incredible spirit of a town gathered to honor its treasured youth. Thanks to Greg Warren, many others will be able to enjoy the same sensation.

The band continues to play. The cheerleaders continue to cheer. The football players continue to relish the opportunity to play ball on Friday nights under the lights. Greg Warren’s ardent spirit will forever hover over the ground that he helped hallow so that Farmington’s children could have the very best.

FOUR TO RECEIVE GOLD KEYS

2010-12-25T08:41:00.000-08:00

Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance Press Release

FOUR TO RECEIVE CONNECTICUT SPORTS WRITERS' ALLIANCE GOLD KEYS

Recipients to be honored at 70th annual Gold Key Dinner in April
For more information, contact Zac Boyer, President, Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance, at zboyer@courant.com or 860-983-6313.

The Connecticut Sports Writers’ Alliance is pleased to announce that four state athletic figures will receive the Gold Key in 2011.

UConn-Avery Point baseball coach Roger Bidwell, Simsbury boys golf and boys soccer coach Ed Lynch, Notre Dame-Fairfield boys hockey coach Marty Roos and retired boys soccer coach Bill Wallach will be honored at the 70th annual Gold Key Dinner in April.

Bidwell led UConn-Avery Point to a 41-10 record last season and the finals of the NJCAA Division II World Series. In 29 seasons, Bidwell is 828-327-7, has been a perennial NJCAA playoff contender and sent 21 players to play professional baseball, including Toronto shortstop John McDonald and outfielder Rajai Davis.

He has won numerous Connecticut Small College Conference, NJCAA New England and Northeast District Coach of the Year awards.

Lynch earned his 1,000th high school victory as a coach at Simsbury in October. He is 727-53-10 in 29 seasons coaching the Simsbury boys golf team, the most wins for any high school golf coach in America, and 280-102-46 in 23 seasons coaching soccer.
Along the way, Lynch has won eight Division I golf titles and three Class LL championships in soccer.

“Every little thing I get is because of the teams and the players that I’ve had,” Lynch said. “I haven’t put one ball into the back of the net or made one putt. It’s all about the kids.”

Lynch also served as a high school and college basketball referee for 32 years before retiring in 2005 to become assigning commissioner for the central board of referees. He currently assigns basketball referees for 85 schools from the high school to the elementary level. Over 100 of his players have gone on to play in colleges such as UConn, Minnesota, Arkansas, Tennessee, Clemson and Maryland, but Lynch said earning the Gold Key is just as special.

“I was elated when I heard the news,” Lynch said. “It is the equivalent of getting to be with the elite and I don’t myself anywhere near the elite…It is the ultimate honor.”

The state record holder in wins with 528, Roos recently began his 39th season as a high school hockey coach. He began coaching at Fairfield Prep in 1972 and moved to Notre Dame-Fairfield in 1991, entering this season with an overall record of 528-283-18. He has won six state titles and has nine tournament final appearances.

A native of Switzerland, Roos is a part owner of both the Milford Ice Pavilion and Northford Ice Pavilion. He has also been involved in youth hockey programs at both facilities and was recently inducted into the Connecticut State High School Coaches Hall of Fame.

Wallach coached boys soccer at Guilford from 1975-78 and 1981-90, finishing with a record of 220-13-9 – a .944 winning percentage – and seven state and 12 Shoreline Conference titles. He coached at Quinnipiac in 1979 and New Haven in 1980, and also coached the girls soccer teams at North Branford (1991-93), Sacred Heart-Hamden (1994-96) and Guilford (1997-99).

An all-New England goalkeeper at Dean Junior College and an all-American at Springfield College, Wallach also coached girls basketball, wrestling, boys track and field and gymnastics at Guilford. He also initiated the CIAC-sponsored Unified Sports program, which partners athletes with students who have intellectual or physical disabilities.

“It is one of the most significant highlights of my career,” Wallach said. “Working with the challenged has been my motivation.”

Since 1940, the Alliance has recognized individuals from Connecticut who have achieved excellence on the youth, high school, college and professional levels. Past recipients of the Gold Key include Connie Mack (1940), Willie Pep (1961), Walt Dropo (1975), George H.W. Bush (1991), Gordie Howe (1992), Geno Auriemma (2001) and Jim Calhoun (2003). A complete list of former honorees can be found here.

The Gold Key Dinner begins at 4:30 p.m. on Sunday, April 17, 2011 at the Aqua Turf Club in Southington. Tickets are $75 and can be purchased by contacting president Zac Boyer at zboyer@courant.com or by mailing a check to Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance, P.O. Box 70, Unionville, CT 06085. For more information on the history of the dinner, visit the Alliance web site at ctsportswriters.org. Additional honorees will be announced in the coming weeks.

THE COCHRANS

2010-12-12T19:49:00.000-08:00

Received a call from Jack Cochran today. He wanted to know how I thought the postseason polls would work out -- Xavier or Masuk. Boy, that's a tough one.

Both teams were 13-0 after winning their respective classes (Xavier -- LL; Masuk -- L). Xavier had a close call against Hillhouse, which was good enough to win Class M, and didn't blow teams out like Masuk did.

But Xavier plays in the SCC, which was more than likely the toughest league in the state (FCIAC is pretty darned good, too). Masuk plays in the South-West Conference, which may well be third best, with apologies to all my friends in the CCC.

I was impressed that Jack cares enough about what we sports writers think. It's up to us because Xavier and Masuk will not be able to settle the score on the field. Jack's son Casey, whom I got to know years ago when his dad was coaching at New Britain, is Masuk's record-breaking quarterback. He will wind up as one of the very best in state history.

Now everybody in Connecticut knows about the controversy that has trailed Jack through his stormy but ultra-successful coaching tenure at Bloomfield, New Britain and New London. And I know that most people deem me as a "Cochran lover." Truth is, everybody has a good and evil sides but most folks tend to overlook Jack's good side beyond his ridiculously unbelievable record.

Turns out Jack is as good a dad as he was a football coach, maybe better. I haven't seen Casey in years but the recent piece in the Hartford Courant indicated that they have a very special relationship.

At this point, I don't know how the polls will turn out. I do hope for the Cochrans' sake that it turns out in their favor, and I hope even more that Jack gets another chance to coach somewhere. Covering nearly every one of Jack's games at New Britain was about as much fun as anything I've ever covered, and challenging, too. I'm really glad he called Sunday because as far as I'm concerned, he's a special guy. I wish him and Casey all the best.

CSWA HS FOOTBALL POLL

2010-11-30T06:33:00.000-08:00

CT SPORTS WRITERS' ALLIANCE H.S. FOOTBALL POLL
Week #11 (Regular Season Final)
Released November 29, 2010
Rank Team (1st Place Votes)    Rec    Pts    Prev.
T1. Masuk (12)                        10-0    348     1
T1. Xavier (12)                         10-0    348     2
3. Berlin                                    10-0    301     4
4. New Canaan                           9-1    278    T6
5. Norwich Free Academy        10-0    250    T6
6. Daniel Hand                            9-1    203    T8
7. Staples                                    9-1    190    T8
8. Darien                                   10-1    177      3
9. Trumbull                                  9-2    151    NR
10. Glastonbury                           9-1    138    NR

Also Receiving Votes: Naugatuck 9-1 127; Montville 9-1 101; Ansonia 9-1 78; West Haven 8-2 54; Valley Regional/Old Lyme 10-0 50; New London 8-2 27; North Haven 9-1 17; St. Joseph 7-3 14; Notre Dame-West Haven 7-3 7; Conard 8-2 6; Windsor 8-2 6; Bristol Eastern 9-1 4; Hall 8-2 3; Brookfield 8-2 1; Middletown 7-3 1.

Voters: Marc Allard (Norwich Bulletin), Bob Barton (CT H.S. Football Record Book), Bill Bloxsom (Hersam Acorn), Jim Bransfield (Middletown Press), Kyle Brennan (Waterbury Republican), Ray Curren (Elm City Newspapers), George DeMaio (WELI Radio), Gerry deSimas (Collinsville Publishing Co.), Bill Donovan (WXLM 980 AM), Mark Fijalkowski (CT Sports Network), Dave Greenleaf (CCC website), Mike Guerrera (Southington Citizen), John Holt (WFSB Channel 3), Larry Kelley (Patch.com), Bob Lazzari (Valley Times), Greg Lederer (Cheshire Herald), Ken Lipshez (Valley Publishing Co.), Sean Patrick Bowley (Connecticut Post), Dave Phillips (Shoreline Times), Mike Pucci (New Haven Register), Paul Rosano (Meriden Record-Journal), Dave Ruden (Stamford Advocate), Mike Suppe (Hersam Acorn Newspapers), Tom Yantz (Hartford Courant)

MORRELL RESIGNS

2010-11-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

While it is no longer my assignment to cover New Britain sports, I wanted to pass along that beleaguered Hurricanes football coach Paul Morrell has resigned.

I haven't spoken to Paul but I feel it is in the best interests of all that he do this and I'm very happy for him. The horrible message boards posted anonymously after my articles on the games and related circumstances are totally unfair and unnecessary. I condemn the Herald for condoning the reports and permitting them to stay online. When it comes to local sports coverage and the assessment of a high school coach, these attacks are beneth the dignity of decent people, let along publications that ostensibly cover the city. If a critic attaches a name to such barbaric assaults on a man who is simply doing his best to help our youth, so be it. At least the man can defend himself in a way he sees fit without making it public theater.

Coach Morrell will be visible on a sideline in the area as the able assistant he is geared to be. Perhaps someday, he will try his hand at head coaching again.

While my name will no longer appear on Herald pages, I invite my treasured readers who have enjoyed my work for so many years to check out both the Valley Press (Farmington Valley towns) and the West Hartford Press. I promise there will be no bashing of innocent community-minded people like Paul Morrell there, not by me or anybody else who won't sign his name.

FOUR ROCK CATS ON TWINS' ROSTER

2010-11-22T15:22:00.000-08:00

The New Britain Rock Cats didn’t manufacture many wins in 2010 but that hasn’t kept the Minnesota Twins’ developmental machine from hitting its production schedule.

Four players from the team that posted a 44-98 record – the worst in Minor League Baseball – were promoted to the Twins’ 40-man major league roster Friday: outfielders Joe Benson and Rene Tosoni, right-handed pitcher David Bromberg and first baseman/outfielder Chris Parmelee.

Benson, 22, played in 102 games for the Rock Cats, batted .251 with 20 doubles, seven triples, a team-best 23 home runs, 49 RBI, and 12 stolen bases. He also displayed excellent defensive skills and an above-average throwing arm. Earlier this month the Twins named him their 2010 Minor League Player of the Year.

Bromberg, 23, made 17 starts for the Rock Cats before his mid-July promotion to Triple-A Rochester. He is now pitching in the Arizona Fall League.

Parmelee, 22, appeared in 111 games for New Britain. Baseball America recently rated him as one of the top pure hitters in Minor League Baseball and hitting .339 in the Arizona Fall League further reinforced that evaluation.

Tosoni, 24, played in portions of both the 2009 and 2010 seasons in New Britain. A torn labrum in his right shoulder necessitated season-ending surgery in June.

Of the 40 players on Minnesota’s roster, 32 are former Rock Cats.

GOODBYE HERALD, HELLO VALLEY AND WEST HARTFORD

2010-11-18T21:22:00.000-08:00

As most of you probably know by now, I have left the New Britain Herald for the much greener pastures of the weekly newspapers that serve the Farmington Valley and West Hartford.

Aside from the pastures being greener for the obvious reason, I was very impressed that the Valley Press is expanding into West Hartford after enjoying success in Farmington, Burlington, Avon, Canton, Simsbury and Granby. Meanwhile, the Herald evacuated Farmington, Wethersfield and Rocky Hill.

I will miss the Herald, seeing that I gave the New Britain readers 15 years of my professional career, a substantial chunk to be sure. I truly saw myself riding into the sunset of my career with the Herald but I was never so gratified when I discovered that the Valley Press really wanted me. Everybody knows how great it feels to be wanted.

I join a talented, dedicated crew of people who express their desire to serve the readers of the region through the excellence of their work.

I cannot wait to delve into a position where I can shape the sports section to my very own contours, an opportunity I was never afforded in New Britain. I am an extreme proponent of local sports. I have no desire to expound on major league or major college sports and won't bore you with my opinions on them. They hold little value since I am not in the press boxes and sidelines of Boston, New York or Storrs. Readers who wish to stay abreast of the Red Sox, Giants and Huskies can find well-written, detailed observations in daily publications around the state and nation as well as on the internet and television.

My expertise lies in my 20 years of high school coverage and an association with the the Eastern League and minor league baseball for nearly 30 years. Since over 350,000 of you attend Rock Cats games annually, you will be given periodic inside views of what happens at New Britain Stadium both on and off the field.

My scholastic sports associations range from one end of the state to the other. My efforts were rewarded last year when I was inducted into the Connecticut High School Coaches Association Hall of Fame and I wear the ring I received with great pride. They will be rewarded again at the prestigious Gold Key Dinner on April 17, 2011, when I will be presented with the Art McGinley Award for meritorious service to the Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance. Now, my efforts have been recognized and rewarded and I move forward with a renewed enthusiasm to inform and entertain with the ability that God so generously gave me.

I hope to hear from my old friends. I look forward to establishing relationships with many new ones.

SMALL-TOWN SPIRIT IN PLAINVILLE

2010-10-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

I am not from Plainville. I didn’t graduate from Plainville High School and never lived there.

I can plead for a special exemption however, because I love the hot dogs at Saint’s, rave about the homemade pasta at Pagliacci’s, appreciate the reasonably priced and diverse cuisine at Aqua Terra, cherish the Buffalo wings and colonial atmosphere at J. Timothy’s and often partake in the exquisitely prepared fish at Confetti.

I’ve also reported extensively on town sports since 1991, so between the hundreds of excellent meals and passionate appreciation for the town’s athletic protagonists, I plead for honorary status because Plainville is indeed a large part of what I’ve become.

I really don’t have to plead. The good people of Plainville have seen fit to include me on the guest list for the gala Plainville Sports Hall of Fame dinner, the most recent of which took place at Nuchie’s Restaurant in Forestville Saturday evening Oct. 16.

The overwhelming theme at the PSHOF soiree backs up what I’ve written extensively about during the contemporary sports era dominated by an internet that needs regulation as bad as the wild, wild West needed law, ESPN-initiated coverage that puts the messenger and the arrogant above the event and the humble and a growing ignorance of what high school sports is all about.

Several times during the induction ceremony, honorees and their presenters stressed how vital were the time and dedication afforded them by PHS coaches, teachers and administrators as they were transitioning from child to adult.

As I noted, my active involvement with town sports affairs began in 1991 so I was not privy to the golden age of Plainville sports. I never got to cover a baseball team coached by the great Ron Jones. I didn’t get to see any of the basketball teams coached by the legendary Pat Riera. I only got to know Jim Lynch as a principal, and Greg Ziogas, with the exception of his interim guidance of the boys basketball team in 2003-04, as an administrator.

But as life whips by like New England trees going from lush green to a palate of brilliant color to stark naked, the PSHOF inductees are now awesome 30-something people with children of their own whom I covered while selfless coaches, teachers and administrators shaped the adults they would become.

Inductee Victor Paradis (PHS Class of 1977) ostensibly turned Nuchie’s lectern into a preacher’s pulpit with his heartfelt tributes to family, friends, teammates and coaches. The portion that really touched me was when he thanked Jones, Ziogas and Lynch for applying a firm hand and discipline that provided him with guidelines that he lives by.

Dr. Michael Lantiere, the recipient of the John E. Toffolon Distinguished Service Award, told a story about the incident that was most responsible for embarking on a lifetime dedicated to supporting youth and community through baseball.

Lantiere, living in Southington, asked Jones to come to the batting cage to help his son learn to hit. Jones spent hours teaching him the physical and mental aspects of hitting, even though he was the coach of rival Plainville.

When Lantiere asked Jones if he could give him some cash for his time and effort, Jones told him to pay him back by doing the same for young people who had similar needs. Lantiere served as a volunteer coach at Southington High for 22 years and as a volunteer umpire for Little League Baseball for even longer.

I remember covering inductee Sara Doncet’s brilliant swimming career during my early days in the business as a correspondent for the Bristol Press. Judging from her mother’s tear-laden presentation speech and her off-the-cuff chat, she merged the love of her family, her thirst for the camaraderie that team sports nurture and the guidance of her late coach George Choiniere.

Doncet’s high school career coincided with that of catching great Brian Edge. Edge played for his PSHOF presenter Bob Freimuth, and noted that Freimuth’s belief in him through the offensive struggles early in his sophomore season will live in his heart forever.

He also revealed more about Jones’ legacy. By the time Edge was playing high school ball, Jones had moved on to a coaching position at Eastern Connecticut State University but still came back to help Edge become the kind of hitter that propelled him to a college career at the University of Hartford and a chance to play professionally.

“Ron Jones was five years removed from coaching at PHS when I arrived as a freshman,” said Edge, a teacher at PHS, his classroom adjacent to the PSHOF display that will soon include his plaque. “He was making the 45-minute drive to Eastern during my high school career and he still spent countless hours with me on catching drills, throwing batting practice and talking about hitting.”

Jones, Lantiere and Freimuth have spent their lives coaching baseball with the primary goal of preparing a base line for their protégés to live by. Edge will carry that torch to the next generation, hoping to keep it lit through a time when the old guard must look at the word “team” multiple times to make sure it isn’t spelled with an “i.”

Of much less significance to the general populace but of great meaning to me was the number of times the speakers mentioned reading about former Plainville High greats in the newspaper, in headlines, their achievements documented for posterity.

I couldn’t help but think of how circulation numbers have dwindled and the newspaper industry has withered under the weight of the internet and a general lack of interest from the younger generations. The once-plentiful articles written about high school sports have been reduced to a trickle. What are Edge and Doncet going to refer to when it’s their turn to introduce future Hall-of-Famers?

PLEASE, NO MORE RENTSCHLER

2010-10-08T21:58:00.000-07:00

After three years of trudging to Rentschler Field to cover the Southington-New Britain football game, I have a message for those involved with staging the game there. Please stop!

The attendance was on the lighter side of deplorable.

Southington brought a decent contingent but the number of kids in the Golden Hurricane Marching Band was equal to those from the general population who made the trip. Have you ever seen what 1,500 or so people look like in a stadium that accommodates 40,000?

To the people who didn’t attend, good choice.

It took me over an hour to get from Farmington to Rentschler. The traffic, always heavier on Friday evening, was bumper-to-bumper from West Hartford on. I’m so glad I got XM Radio so I could crank up the Grateful Dead Channel and divert my attention from drivers senselessly changing lanes to slow travel to a crawl.

I am very grateful to Jack Freeman and the Rentschler people for making the press box available. With our early deadline at the Herald, I would have been unable to get a story in without the wireless system there and the comfortable surroundings.

But we had only three reporters there along with Southington’s intrepid stat man Steve Daniels and young spotter extraordinaire Eric Swallow Jr., son of the Blue Knights’ athletic director.

In New Britain, we have the benefit of the finest high school football/soccer venue in Connecticut, Veterans Memorial Stadium in Willow Brook Park. The 10,000 seats there are many more than enough. The press box is accommodating with wireless and plenty of room.

In fact, Veterans should be the venue for the state championship games. The turf is well-maintained and the stadium is the most centrally located venue in the state.

Don’t get me wrong. The Rent is a stunning facility, a great place to watch college football. I’d love to have the chance to cover a UConn game there someday but for high school games, it is overkill.

CASE SIROIS: WHATEVER WILL BE

2010-09-28T20:22:00.000-07:00

The story of former St. Paul/Goodwin Tech football player Nathan Sirois that appeared in the New Britain Herald Wednesday has as luminous a silver lining as any I’ve ever written.

On the surface, it’s sad, something of an indictment of a system that allows a young athlete to slip between the cracks, denied of a chance to play.

Sirois, a junior at Goodwin Tech, wants to play so badly. The CIAC, which makes the rules, absolutely cannot make any exceptions no matter how politically correct they may be.

Sirois certainly isn’t the only Goodwin Tech student who would like to play football. Eight others still at Goodwin are in the same boat having played at St. Paul when the co-op was in effect. They could have transferred to St. Paul or a public school if football was that much of a priority.

Goodwin starting a program is a thought. Cheney Tech-Manchester split from East Catholic and began its own program under the auspices of Berlin’s Bill Baccaro, now back at East Catholic. Abbott Tech-Danbury has a team as does Wolcott Tech-Torrington. So do Wilcox Tech-Meriden and Platt Tech-Milford. Bullard-Havens Tech of Bridgeport has had one for years.

Apparently Goodwin does not have the support within the school to get one going and it is a major undertaking that needs support across the board.
Several vocational/technical schools remain in cooperative partnerships. Ellis Tech-Danielson is in a tri-op with Putnam and Tourtellotte-Thompson. Norwich Tech is partnered with St. Bernard and Windham Tech with Coventry. O’Brien Tech-Ansonia is in with Derby.

Goodwin is unfortunate that it is surrounded by big towns and cities. None of the area public schools are small enough that they require a co-op to stay in the gridiron business. Alas, there’s nothing left to do but feel sorry for Sirois, but don’t feel too sorry.

The Plainville boy is on the road to a career in manufacturing technology. He is smart and very determined. There isn’t a bitter bone in his body.

Sirois is the perfect example of the scholastic athletic system doing exactly what those who established and nurtured it for the last 100 or so years had hoped it would do. Team sports offer dynamics that enable players to form a cohesive group under the guidance of caring adults. They discover how success comes to those who work together with determination and efficiency toward a common goal.

Congratulations are in order all the way around.

Goodwin Tech wasn’t founded to win state championships. Sirois is a fine example of why the state had the vision to establish a forum for alternative education. Everybody can’t go to college to become doctors, lawyers and stockbrokers. We need young men like Sirois and everybody at Goodwin who had a hand in his development should be mighty proud.

The CIAC may loom as the villain in this production but think again. Rules were established and its committees are living by them as well they must.

St. Paul coach Jude Kelly has done everything possible to nurture Sirois and then some. The woman in the St. Paul booster club – unfortunately I did not ask her name – deserves credit for calling Sirois’ plight to my attention.

Include Goodwin athletic director Roger Pulito, who has been doing great things for kids for years. And Pulito told me how hard his colleague at St. Paul – David Dennehy – worked on Sirois’ behalf.

Sure I wish something could be done to foster the miracle of Sirois lacing up some shoulder pads and getting the chance to play again. He had so much courage to discuss his feelings with me so I could relate them to you. But the young man will learn from the experience and be fine in the long run.

If you’ll allow, I’d like to use this as a segue to what I continue to see at New Britain.

I’m not likely to give much attention to any of the cowards who file their critical anonymous diatribes after our stories on the website but the continued assault on New Britain football coach Paul Morrell is beyond absurd.

Nothing short of a state championship will put an end to it, but we simply cannot judge Morrell or any other coach on postseason accomplishments. Everybody in the city enjoyed what Jack Cochran brought to the NBHS trophy case. Cochran, in spite of his well-chronicled down side, probably possesses the finest football mind of anyone to draw X’s and O’s in state history.

Morrell isn’t the only coach in America who hasn’t won football games at a .935 clip. But he has won far more than he’s lost (even Notre Dame wouldn’t fire a guy who is 36-17) and he’s won even more of the battles that don’t get into the sports pages. He’s done a lot of great things for a lot of kids. Doesn’t that count for something?
Let the man coach.

CCC HURTING IN HARTFORD

2010-09-22T14:51:00.000-07:00

The sun shone brightly through a welcome autumn breeze on Tuesday, lighting the path for what we hope will be an outstanding fall season for our high school student-athletes and their teams.

It sure didn’t start out that way and it was due to something completely out of their control.

The New Britain High soccer teams were denied the chance to begin their season as planned when a Weaver administrator contacted athletic director Len Corto and told him the squads from the Hartford school were not going to show.

The first reaction on Corto’s part was anger. He knew how hard his soccer coaches Margaret Coates (girls) and Matt Denecour (boys) had worked for this moment and it was taken from them without a viable explanation.

The first reaction on my part was anger, too. The deterioration of sports programs in two of the three Hartford public schools has been a smoldering issue for a long time. Did it have to go this far without Hartford administrators reacting to the red flag that’s been flapping in the autumn breeze for at least a decade?

I sought an explanation from Central Connecticut Conference commissioner John Tarnuzzer before firing off written salvos about what has festered in my heart and mind since I moved to the region in 1990.

I asked if Weaver would be penalized for its neglect.

Tarnuzzer said that Hartford had just hired a scholastic sports administrator for Weaver, a young man named Wakime Hauser, and he wasn’t quite prepared for the negligence he encountered. Hauser could not be blamed for Weaver failing to show up yet he had to deliver the message to Corto.

The Weaver athletes, it turns out, were not attentive enough about getting their physicals and turning in the related paperwork. Hauser probably didn’t want to be liable in the event of misfortune and did what he had to do. Keep in mind that Weaver soccer player Dwight Turton, diagnosed with a rare disease, died in the summer of 2007 when he played against doctor’s orders.
Corto later realized that Hauser was beyond reproach.

What Tarnuzzer has to judge relates to upholding the conference’s integrity through sanctions as extreme as dismissing Weaver while considering that the CCC has to take a permissive stance because student-athletes should not be penalized for adults’ oversights and indiscretions.

The problems are systemic. I believe their roots are intertwined with the Sheff vs. O’Neill settlement that resulted in the establishment of the magnet schools that now dot the Hartford landscape. While I have no doubt that the addition of magnet schools was beneficial to education in general, nobody was charged with enacting the needs of the athletic programs.
I don’t want to go into a discourse on how vital athletics are in the education of our youth but they are important enough that somebody with integrity and vision should have been placed in charge to assure that the proud athletic heritage of Weaver and Public carry forward.

I have heard about the problems from people in both schools. They have been discussed in friendly conversation for much of my tenure as a scholastic reporter but nobody would go on record with the issues at hand or their potential solutions. Why would they? They could lose their jobs.

So the situation festers until some innocent, hard-working New Britain soccer players have their much-awaited opening game snatched from them.

Others around the CCC have been affected, too.

With Public’s departure from boys soccer turning the CCC East into a seven-team division, the remainder of the schools – Bloomfield, E.O. Smith, Fermi, RHAM, Rockville, Rocky Hill and Tolland – are left searching the state for two games. With the mega-conferences all restricting outside games, where were athletic directors and coaches going to find fill-ins, even as early as last spring?

That brings us to conference integrity once again.

Tarnuzzer is a capable administrator with a good heart. He will bring in veteran athletic directors and administrators from the CCC’s member schools to counsel Hauser and the Hartford Public administrators. Thankfully, Bulkeley is in good shape due in large part to its energetic administrator Diane Callis.

But at some point, Tarnuzzer will have to set policy that will disqualify member schools for such negligence. If he doesn’t, some undermanned football teams may decide they can’t compete with a powerhouse and opt to stay home, knowing that there will be no penalty.

The Hartford situation has advanced to the critical stage and it must be dealt with – whether tolerantly, punitively or a little of both – because the integrity of a 32-school conference is at stake.

The schools involved must first be willing and able to help themselves. Then we can count on the steady hand of John Tarnuzzer and the munificence of league administrators to bring Hartford’s athletic departments back gradually to the level where they can nurture the city’s kids and not inflict harm on others.

IT'S TIME FOR "THE COACH"

2010-09-07T13:19:00.001-07:00

Bright red autumn highlights showing up among the withering remnants of summer green on New England boughs mean it’s almost kickoff time.

It’s a time to be cherished.

The oppressive humidity is whisked away by cooling breezes. The kids having gone back to school has its advantages. You can sit out on the deck and hear birds chirping and the distant sound of dogs barking instead of the booming bass of what today’s generation considers music.

One disadvantage is getting caught behind school buses in construction zones, but I always leave early when I’m headed to games anyway.

The sound of the New Britain High Marching Band practicing “Bingo” cascades over Willow Brook Park as I count the innings remaining in the most forgettable Rock Cats season in anybody’s lifetime.

As I crossed another day off the calendar Friday afternoon, the telephone rang. I looked at the Caller ID and smiled when I saw “George DeMaio.” The name isn’t as familiar to sports fans north of Wallingford and Cheshire, but those in Greater New Haven and along the Shoreline know him as, “The Coach.”

The Coach has no equal in the Hartford region. He is 110 percent dedicated to high school football in a way that transcends what most of us comprehend.

Listeners in the New Haven area can tune into WELI-960 AM to hear him from 5:30 to 8 a.m. Saturday mornings, but DeMaio’s legacy is his high school football broadcasts.

The Coach and his entourage – and I’m happy to be considered at least on its periphery – bring you reports from across the state as he broadcasts from those tiny press boxes behind the high schools of southern Connecticut.

The broadcasts were on ESPN 1300 AM for the last two seasons but listeners on the northern fringe – New Britain, Berlin and Southington – can get back on the Coach’s team now that he can once again be heard on the more powerful frequency. If only one of the Hartford area stations could do the same.

So The Coach was calling me to ask if I would go on WELI with him Saturday morning. That means 7 a.m., folks, which is a flat-out culture shock to a guy watching A’s-Angels wrap it up at 1:15. But for The Coach, the least I can do is wake up in the middle of the … er, morning?

I get the call at 7 a.m. sharp and I was awake, awake and studying up on my 2009 CIAC championship results and my Connecticut Sports Writers’ Alliance final poll.

As I waited on hold, the Coach was going over Friday’s sports results. He topped his presentation by telling his listenership where all the high school scrimmages were, when they were starting and who would be getting together to crash helmets on the final weekend before the curtain rises.

Now that’s coverage.

And if you’ve heard Coach’s voice, that’s passion. If you haven’t, I like to say Coach DeMaio is to Connecticut high school football what Dick Vitale is to college basketball. You may love Vitale or you may bristle every time you hear his voice but one thing cannot be denied – the man is passionate about his pastime.

We talked for about 15 minutes about a variety of football-related topics, none having anything to do with UConn or the Patriots. We talked about the new playoff format that stretches the season to Dec. 11. We talked about the incident in Middletown where two young coaches thankfully were exonerated from criminal charges after a youngster swooned in the summer heat from dehydration.

That’s The coach, right on subject.

When I think of the Coach, I think back to Thanksgiving morning 2001. The soon-to-be state champion Hurricanes traveled to Glastonbury for a game vital to their playoff hopes. The late, great Bo Kolinsky was covering for the Hartford Courant and after the game, we retired to his car to justify and standardize our statistics.

Bo turned promptly to WELI, fine-tuning the station with the fingers of a concert violinist. The strains of the Coach and company pierced through the static. He kept a count of how many of the scores he had from that busy morning. Keep in mind, there wasn’t any texting going on then. There were no smart phones conveying internet messages as events happened.

As another of The Coach’s correspondents phoned in, he bubbled over with excitement about breaking the record for the most scores ever. He had the playoff scenario virtually all mapped out before he left the air for some hard-earned turkey and stuffing. Bo and I smiled. “He’s one of us, isn’t he?” we agreed.

So why is what The Coach does important? That’s easy. Like Bo and the late Hal Levy did with similar conviction, the Coach, a grandfather of three, knows what it means to our society to honor kids who excel.

He knows that following professional and college sports is a worthwhile infatuation but the significance cuts much deeper when we’re supporting the neighbor’s kid. We’re fanning their youthful flames of determination, helping set a foundation so they can ascend tomorrow’s mantle of leadership.

If you have any doubts, just take a look in City Hall where former NBHS baseball player Tim Stewart makes big decision. You might also want to check in on Berlin Mayor Adam Salina, the Stanford grad who knocked on the NFL’s door before coming back to bolster his community.

So with fall season here and lots of great kids striving for that sweet smell of success, do your part and cheer them on. We at the Herald and Bristol Press, with help from dedicated coaches keeping us informed, will do our part. You don’t have to fret about The Coach doing his.

ROCK CATS JEFF SMITH IS SYNONYMOUS WITH CLASS

2010-09-06T10:23:00.000-07:00

Long-time followers of Rock Cats baseball do not have to be reminded how classy manager Jeff Smith is.

Smitty played with the team for parts of six years, endearing himself to the community through visits to hospitals, schools, libraries and nursing homes.

Smith, who has been summoned to Minnesota to serve as an extra coach for the remainder of the season, was welcomed back warmly when the Twins promoted him to manager of the Double-A club.

What happened to Smith and the Rock Cats this season was unfortunate. The team, young to start with, was dealt some crippling injuries and the Twins’ minor league system was unable to sustain the hits. They avoided the indignity of a 100-loss season but he endured the worst season since Eastern League baseball returned to the Hardware City in 1983.

Smith, in tune with his warm demeanor, issued the following letter to the core of Rock Cats fans, who still came out in record number to enjoy the affordable family entertainment that the team engenders so well:

I would like to thank personally the fans of the New Britain Rock Cats for their support all season. Even though we went through some tough times on the field, our fans were always there to stand behind us, and cheer us on each and every night.

Part of a baseball player’s development is to play in front of big crowds and you guys have provided this. The Rock Cat fan base is like a tight-knit family and our players appreciate it.

Our players were all over the community again this year and we would have it no other way. The fans are what make the Rock Cats organization and stand above the rest. Thanks again for all of the support, and follow these young men as they journey to the Minnesota Twins.

NO PLACE ELSE I'D RATHER BE

2010-09-02T17:34:00.000-07:00

I hit some medical bumps in the road in late August, nothing too serious but painful enough that I stayed around the house for a spell.

With constant discomfort comes that fog that shrouds the brain but the heart picks up the slack. Like hearts do, mine became a little more vulnerable, a little more tolerant of the aspects of life that usually have me spewing diatribes.

It rained most of the time I was cooped up and the combination of conditions cast me into a far more introspective state than I’m used to when I have writing, reporting, lawn-mowing and garden-watering on my mind.

The first thing I focused on was my 14-year run at New Britain Stadium covering the Rock Cats. I go there 71 times a year and I’m prone to take it for granted.

It’s easy to trash a team that may well lose 100 games but the bottom line is, better to cover a bad baseball team than a good anything else. While the overall product is grossly unacceptable, the individuals who have gone out there and made it happen are classy kids who have kept their heads held high throughout the debacle. Every one of them that I’ve approached to talk about what’s happened has kept a sharp perspective and an exemplary attitude about what it all means. Part of the deal is that the rest of the Eastern League was a lot better this season.

But having a corner of the New Britain Stadium press box as my spring and summer office is special in itself. A lot of it is due to the people, folks I’ve written about here from time to time. I sit with scoreboard operator Larry Michaels, official scorer Ed Smith and for most of this season Rock Cats intern Dan Karpuc from West Hartford and the College of the Holy Cross.

On my left I’ve had lovable Rock Cats voice Jeff Dooley by my side for 13 years. For the last two, I’ve gotten to know Joe D’Ambrosio, whose booming voice is a constant companion for the millions of UConn basketball and football fans.

Behind me is the domain of the technological experts, Luke Pawlak and Mike “Manny” Papazian, who bring the entertainment factor at the stadium to a major league level. There’s announcer Don Steele, long time Cats employee, friend and engineer Mike Torres and a bevy of amazing young people that Dooley brings in to participate in the broadcasts. There’s Bob Dowling, the team’s energetic and ever-smiling media relations man, the epitome of a Kennedy Democrat (which I never hold against him) and dedicated to every team and athlete who comes out of the Commonwealth.

Add in the visits from president Bill Dowling and general manager John Willi, vice president Evan Levy and assistant general manager Ricky Ferrell, hard workers like Kim Pizighelli, Jonathan Lissitchuk, Amy Helbling, Evan Paradis and Andres Levy. Heather Cavaliere takes the photos and writes the stories for the website, and feeds Dooley and D’Ambrosio the best baked goods in the state. I guess she figures that my figure cannot endure those delicacies.

They’re more than just friends, they’re closer to family.

Because of the people, because of the baseball, because it’s wonderful to watch nearly 6,000 people a game enjoying baseball. Because of the deep green of the grass, the brick-red warning track dirt and billboards with more colors than a rainbow. Because of the fine young men who play the game, the overwhelming compassion of the Minnesota Twins representatives. Because Dowling, Coleman Levy, Willi, Evan Levy et al have proven without a shadow of a doubt that minor league sports can make it in Connecticut.

There’s no place else I’d rather be.

KEEP BRINGIN' IT, VINNY

2010-08-24T18:36:00.001-07:00

One broadcasting buffoon bellows his biased bilge like he’s experiencing his first sexual encounter, simply because a home run breaks a windshield in a parking lot beyond the left field wall. Another roars with insincere exclamations flying in every direction when two Yankees go “back-to-back, belly-to-belly.”

The most irritating guy of them all utters with slang-ridden disdain, “He gone!” when an opposing player strikes out and unabashedly calls the White Sox “the good guys.” When the opposing team does something electric, all you hear is a mumble.

So this is the subjective slant that baseball broadcasting now peddles, and as I wade through this bog of unprofessional pretenders [as little as possible], I hear news that the great Vin Scully, 82, is coming back in 2011.

The timing was great for me. I like to follow the Cincinnati Reds and they were visiting Vinny’s L.A. Dodgers over the weekend. Given the blessing of the Comcast “Extra Inning” package, I took advantage of a rare treat.

No one has more reason than Scully to root, root, root for the home team. The absolute best broadcaster in the history of the game has been at the Dodgers’ microphone since 1950, two years before this 58-year-old writer was born.

But Scully doesn’t resort to hometown blather. In fact, this Reds fan didn’t take exception to one thing he said during two of the three games I saw. In the other, I was sorry to get the Reds announcers, who aren’t the worst on the planet, but can’t hold Scully’s scorecard.

I’m sure somebody in the business could explain it to me. Perhaps it’s just another example of my trying to hold on to nostalgic elements of my younger years. But the shameless sound of announcers heaping praise on the “good guys” and dumping on the “bad guys” makes me shiver with distaste.

You may enjoy the whining Joe on Red Sox radio guy pouting when Lyle Overbay rakes two three-run homers off his ace lefthander. Maybe it sets your heart all atwitter when the Evil Empire’s lout quakes, “THEEEEEEE Yankee win!” like it’s some kind of religious awakening.

I found a new one that chortles like a hometown ham -- Josh Lewin of the Texas Rangers. Lewin spouted the following bourgeois tonight, “I’m surprised that Twins manager Ron Gardenhire hasn’t won a manager of the year award and he won’t this year because our guy Ron Washington has it wrapped up.”

How’s that for some one-sided crap. What about Gardenhire? What about Joe Maddon? What about Terry Francona with all the injuries he’s had to endure? When an opposing player makes a great play, Lewin arrogantly announces that their shortstop has made the same play so many times. Pass the barf bag, dear, and will somebody in Texas please pull the plug.

Every baseball fan should allow Vin Scully’s melodious voice to fill the living room once in a while. His offerings sometimes come out sounding like poetry.

Here are my least favorite broadcasters, some of which you’ve already guessed, with excessive hometown bias as my primary criteria. I give you The Insincere Seven:
1. Ken “Hawk” Harrelson, Chicago White Sox
2. Joe Castiglione, Boston Red Sox
3. Rex Hudler, Los Angeles Angels
4. Suzyn Waldman, New York Yankees
5. John Sterling, New York Yankees
6. Josh Lewin, Texas Rangers
7. Mark Grace, Arizona Diamondbacks

Here are the guys I like best:
1. Vin Scully, Los Angeles Dodgers
2. Jon Miller, San Francisco Giants
3. Dave O’Brien, Boston Red Sox
4. Dick Bremer, Minnesota Twins
5. Don Orsillo, Boston Red Sox
6. Marty Brennaman, Cincinnati Reds
7. Gary Cohen, New York Mets

A FACEBOOK BIRTHDAY

2010-08-19T07:29:00.000-07:00

As my aging body slowly stirred to life this morning, I was totally overwhelmed by the outpouring of birthday wishes on Facebook. Thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart for taking a moment out of your days to wish me well.

As it turns out, I have to work today, but all of you know, covering the Rock Cats beat isn't work. First off, it's baseball, and I cherish my relationships with the young men who play the games.

It's also being with dear friends like: keeper of the scoreboard Larry Michaels, the kindly yet indefatigable official scorer/former New Britain High wrestling coach Ed Smith; the always smiling and equally accommodating Dowling brothers Bill and Bob; "JD squared," those masters of the microphone Jeff Dooley and Joe D'Ambrosio; Luke Pawlak and Mike "Manny" Papazian, the extremely gifted guys running the technical operation; old friend and dedicated New Britain sportsman Mike Torres.

There are so many others who frequent New Britain Stadium for virtually every home game that are like family to me that listing everybody would only leave me open to forgetting somebody very important. Thank you, one and all.

But my life has had so many chapters and I have met so many unbelievable people along the way.

There's Belden Road, the cradle of my life, where such a stunning number of incredible people grew up together in middle-class splendor. Warm and wonderful Joy Bershtein, one of my dearest friends Dave Dippolino, his old BR next-door neighbor Johnny Spinato (you may know Johnny if you've had an adult beverage at Confetti, Route 10, Plainville).

There's Glens Falls, N.Y., the foothills of the Adirondacks, where baseball carried me for five wonderful years (1984-88), and where my only son Jason was born.

I've never been too terrific about communicating with my extended family -- I've heard the words "black sheep" muttered just within earshot many times in my teens and 20s -- but I have a special place in my heart for the Katzmans -- Bruce, Terry and Karen -- whom I unfortunately rarely get to see.

There are the people who once worked side-by-side with me but have moved on, like passionate family man Bobby Mayer and accomplished broadcaster Bill Schweitzer. How wonderful and typical that they took the time for a greeting.

And there are the youngsters who share the burden of putting out quality sports news every day at the Herald -- Executive Editor Brad Carroll; editor Matt Straub; Andrew Lovell.

Although I haven't heard from them yet, I want to acknowledge my two dearest buddies. Andy Vas -- Belden Road buddies for 55 years and still going strong. The miles can't keep us apart, you old fart. Ron Sambrook, the Godfather, Obbey Brother. Ain't nuthin better than a Grateful Dead concert and Obbey Ride to Cooperstown, or both at the same time.

Family comes first but I've saved the last for best. Lisa, the best wife a guy can have. Can you begin to imagine what she puts up with every day? And she got me the best birthday presents of all, autographed Gunsmoke photos.

Each and every one of you, and surely many more, have played a role in shaping my life. The one regret that life musters is that I can't have a Pepe's pizza, a platter of Jimmie's fried clams, a Glenwood hot dog, watch some great old movies or tip an adult beverage or two with y'all.

Thanks for the birthday wishes and please know that I love you all.

LIFE'S SIMPLE PLEASURES

2010-08-18T08:52:00.000-07:00

Anybody who knows me will tell you that I march to the beat of a different drummer.

Who else do you know that comes home from a hard evening’s work and watches a steady stream of Have Gun – Will Travel and Gunsmoke reruns when the baseball games are over? If you know of anybody, let me know. I can use some good company.

I’m crazy, right? I should be watching the shows that everybody else watches so I can stay in tune with contemporary society. Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy.

So when Lisa and I look into a vacation, we’re not likely to show up in the usual places. We don’t have a second home in Old Saybrook or Rhode Island and we’re not prone to sit idly on the beach for hour after hour anyway. We aren’t about to book any cruises so we can play shuffleboard and sail the ocean on a ship bigger than New Britain. You won’t find us in London, Paris or Amsterdam any time soon.

In June, we went to Antietam (western Maryland), Frederick, Md., Gettysburg and the Pennsylvania Dutch County. The impetus behind that trip was Civil War history.

Last week, we used our second vacation period to tour New Hampshire. As you would guess, we didn’t go to Hampton Beach. We didn’t even take in a ballgame in Manchester, Portland or Lowell, Mass., although my sports-loving wife would have surely been okay with that.

Lisa likes moose. She had never seen one up close and personal, so we packed up the Avalanche, motored up I-91 almost as far as you can go (St. Johnsbury, VT), and cut across the skinny northern part of New Hampshire on back roads. We came through the back door of the majestic Presidential Range, slipping through nice New England towns like Lancaster and Gorham.

In Gorham, we went on a moose tour. That’s right, a moose tour. The town sponsors tours in air-conditioned vans that seat a dozen or so people. The driver, who I’m so pleased to tell you is a fellow Grateful Dead freak, took us up along the Androscoggin River.

We packed in the van at about 6:30 p.m. We scoured the Androscoggin shores, the bogs, the thickets and the evergreen forests. No moose. Lisa’s optimism – they advertise a 94-to-97 percent success rate – was on the wane.

Dusk turned to dark and the driver took out his array of spotlights, one affixed to each side of the van’s hood and another more powerful hand-held variety. Finally, he flashed the hand-held light down a forested path and Lisa got to see her moose. One moose, and a small one at that.

It didn’t help to run into some folks from Presque Isle, Maine, during the vacation who said they see moose from their back porch almost daily. That didn’t please Lisa at all. She frowned and said, “No more moose.” No more moose socks, no more moose oven mitts, no more moose postcards.

We stayed in Jackson, N.H., just north of the bustling little burg of North Conway. The accommodations at the Inn at Ellis Falls were astounding. Jackson Falls are stunning as they cascade down the mountainside. We went on a train ride out of North Conway and heard some great historical stuff from the young conductors.

After two days in the mountains, we headed for the shore, which is a diversity that makes the Granite State so special. We stayed at a B&B (Three Chimneys Inn) in Durham, home to the University of New Hampshire, and went into Portsmouth for some shoreline frolic.

Portsmouth is the consummate New England port city, not so big and imposing like Boston but with plenty of amenities. Heck, we parked the car in a garage for 5 hours and it cost us $3. Try doing that in Beantown.

We took a boat tour of the Isles of Shoals, located about six miles out in the Atlantic, and were treated to an array of wildlife (no moose, but harbor seals aplenty), some sparkling white wine and a stirring history of the islands, part of which are in Maine and part in New Hampshire.

On the way home, we stocked up at the tax-free New Hampshire State Liquor Store (Live Free or Die) and made sure our gas tank was full to the brim so we could once again avoid paying the double tax on gasoline in Connecticut. Hey, a week later and I’m still running on that tank. I look for reasons to go out of state just so I don’t have to pay Connecticut prices, but I digress.

For years people have been compelled to show their home movies or still shots from their vacations. We’re not into the home movies but we have lots of still shots (no moose). Maybe Lisa will upload them. But I wouldn’t want to bore you any more with our run-of-the-mill existence. To many of you, I’m sure no moose is good moose.

MORNEAU, JUST MAYBE?

2010-08-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

If I was playing the typical blogger game, I would report this a different way, like I knew something that others didn't. I would use deductive reasoning, take a shot in the dark, roll the dice and say that the Minnesota Twins' slugging first baseman Justin Morneau is lined up to do some rehabbing in New Britain.

Here are the facts:

1) Morneau remains on the disabled list as he tries to shake off the effects of a concussion sustained July 7 against Toronto when he took John McDonald's knee to his head trying to break up a double play.

2) Recovery from a concussion is tricky business. Reports are that he's had some good days and some difficult ones. The Twins are being very cautious -- they're doing quite well with Michael Cuddyer playing a solid first and Danny Valencia supplying punch at third. A healthy Morneau down the stretch would give the Twins an offensive array that rivals the Yankees.

3) One projection had the 2006 MVP returning to live action in the neighborhood of Sept. 1. Predicting the future is nothing but guesswork but it's something to work with.

4) Morneau would need at least a few games to re-adapt himself to the speed of the game, which means a rehab stint is a certaintly.

5) Why not New Britain, if his rehab time coincides with a string of Rock Cats home games? For any rehab, the preference is that the trainer has access to the home clubhouse and all its medical amenities.

So there you have it. I have used my deductive reasoning to project a possible scenario where the suffering New Britain fan gets tossed a bone for tremendous loyalty shown during one of the most decrepit seasons in Eastern League history.

Wouldn't it be nice to see one of the sweetest, most powerful left-handed swings in the history of the game back at the scene of the majestic wallops Morneau sent screaming toward the willow grove back in 2002?

With top pitching prospect Kyle Gibson now in Triple-A and Ben Revere on the disabled list with a fractured orbital bone under his right eye, there aren't many reasons to attend the remaining games. That is, unless you want to watch the Cats scratch and claw to avoid becoming the first EL team in over 50 years to drop 100 games.

A HAVEN FOR COWARDS

2010-08-05T08:51:00.000-07:00

File this in your "fact" column:

Those who type hurtful and erroneous words and make them public through an internet forum without properly identifying themselves represent the most cowardly faction that has ever roamed the earth.

I pray that seekers of wisdom and truth rely solely on legitimate reporting and candid discussion rather than falling prey to the lies and deceit floated by so-called bloggers as a response to something that was written with which they did not agree.

Shouldering responsibility is part of the foundation that enables a person to rise beyond childhood and become a capable adult. If you have something to say that's worth saying, say it loud, say it clear, say it with conviction. Make sure you have some facts to back your opinion and relish the opportunity for a debate. Don't whisper when nobody's watching and hide under the nearest rock.

TRADING DEADLINE FURTHERS MLB TRAVESTY

2010-07-31T18:26:00.000-07:00

I’ve been standing on this here soap box for as long as I’ve been sharing my private thoughts with the readers of central Connecticut and the far reaches of cyberspace, and I’m not about to get off now.

I don’t care what Commissioner Bud Selig says, Major League Baseball is broken.

Oh, it’s not broken as far as the ballgame itself is concerned. The players are more talented than ever. It’s the violation of the general meaning behind the idea of fair competition as a baseline for the evolution of sports in our society.

MLB is set up just perfectly for the fat cats in the big cities to feed off the oblivious fans in America’s smaller cities.

Selig stands behind the lectern with that stern look about him, casting off expressions like the boy who got caught raiding the cookie jar when the question is asked.

Why, Mr. Selig, is the system set up so pennant contenders can gut the less fortunate so those poor bottom-feeders can save a few dollars at the expense of the fan?

Then the fan takes a double screwing when those dear tickets that he’s been holding since March for an ostensibly competitive Astros-Giants game becomes a travesty. The Astros, minus Roy Oswalt and Lance Berkman, come in with their headliners replaced by minor leaguers.

Does the fan get a rebate for not getting what he bargained for? Hardly.

Mr. Selig delights the short-sighted metropolitan hucksters when he speaks of parity. Parity? Then how come it’s been nearly 20 years since the playoffs transpired without the Yankees or Red Sox involved?

It’s not just about winning a World Series. It’s about competing over the grueling 162-game schedule and coming out of it in contention as September rolls around. Where does that take you parity argument, Mr. Commissioner?

The Commissioner’s argument is a ruse to intelligent baseball fans everywhere. He’s smart enough to know that but everything revolves around money and Selig isn’t about to utter a word that may cause his cash cow to deliver sour milk.

Ratings are highest when the Yankees and Red Sox are in the postseason. Fans in New York and New England have come to regard winning as a birthright. If you disagree, please tell me when the last time either has been in the second division. When has either faced the ugliness of a last-place season? When has either last had a season with more defeats than victories?

Here are some answers that would make Selig dance faster than if he were dodging bullets.
The Red Sox have been in the playoffs in six of the last seven years. The last time they had a losing record was 1997. The last time they finished at the bottom of the division was 1992.

The Yankees have been postseason participants for 14 of the last 15 years. Their last season of total discontent was 1992 and they haven’t had that basement feeling since 1990.

No wonder Yankee fans walk the streets as if their bodily discharges smell like the air at the New York Botanical Gardens. The system protects the Yankees against losing when they can dip into their endless cash supply on July 30 and fortify their Hall of Fame-bound cast with former All-Stars from other teams.

It’s never going to stop. I’m not gullible enough to think that Selig and his band of robber barons would have the fortitude to fight for the oppressed.

Think of why sports became popular.

Baseball was nothing more than a child’s game, played fairly I might add, before the Industrial Revolution created a society that suddenly had more leisure time.

Manhattan bank employee Alexander Cartwright and his cronies, given that their working days ended in mid-afternoon, had energy to expel and many hours of daylight to expel it. They went over to Hoboken, N.J., drank the adult beverages of their choice, and tightened a child’s game into a competitive drama that others enjoyed watching.

Others enjoyed watching. I’ll bet they’d pay to satisfy that urge. The rest is history, and that’s where man’s two greatest emotions took hold – greed and greed.

There were those who tried to tilt the playing field in the 19th century but common sense equated to balance. The game wasn’t firmly entrenched enough that the unbalanced history we witness today wouldn’t have turned spectators off forever.

But as the years passed and baseball became a link between generations and touted as the revered National Pastime, something purely American, professional baseball became an attraction for the masses.

Not any more. The prices at Yankee and Red Sox games are surely not for the masses but serve the elite. A few hundred bucks for a baseball ticket may not deter Corporate America or politicians but it sure isn’t in the budget for most of us. Everyman’s game has become the stomping grounds of the upper class.

Interesting how the NBA’s New York Knicks, no matter how much salesmanship Mayor Michael Bloomberg employed on the soiled pages of Gotham’s tabloids, couldn’t sway Lebron James into saving their decrepit team. No Chris Bosh nor Dwyane Wade either.

Sorry, Knicks, unless you make some wise personnel decisions (are you really bringing Isiah Thomas back?), you’re destined to be whipping boys in the Eastern Division for a spell, probably into Spike Lee’s old age.

When the New York Football Giants make bad decisions, they lose. They can’t get to a Thanksgiving trading deadline, pick the bones of the less fortunate and leave the carcass of the Detroit Lions for the buzzards. I guess it’s because the NFL doesn’t have to stoop to such nonsense in order to captivate the sports-loving public.

So what do the NFL and NBS do that MLB does not? To Selig and those who revel in lopsided races, it’s a bad word so I’ll whisper it.

Salary Cap.

What, the union won’t allow it? Well baseball won’t be the first thing that unions ruined.

So feed on this. No matter how the Yankees fare, it doesn’t impress me. If I gave you $50,000 for Christmas shopping and I had $1,000, who would get the better presents? In other words, the crown is there for the taking for this team of All-Stars, and if they don’t win it going away, they deserve the criticism that New Yorkers enjoy dishing out when things don’t go their way.

I’ll reserve my credit for a Padres club enlightened with young pitching that seems destined to hold on to the NL West, the vastly improved Reds, the surprising Braves and a Twins club powered by former Rock Cats. I’ll even doff my cap to the Red Sox, who have battled tremendous adversity to stay on the edge of the AL East race.

May one of them reap the gold while Yankee fans can join their Mets counterparts as they look under every rock in Central Park for someone to blame.

One thing’s for sure, they shouldn’t blame Selig. He’s reduced the field quite efficiently for them.

IS IT ANY WONDER?

2010-07-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

Is it any wonder why the New Britain Rock Cats have difficulty competing in the Eastern League?

The Twins promote the player who contributed to the two rare victories Saturday and Sunday -- outfielder Brandon Roberts -- and that's fine. Roberts should be in Triple-A, and would have been if he hadn't been injured coming out of spring training.

They also lose catcher Danny Lehmann.

What do they get in return? A 22-year-old catcher -- Tobias Streich -- who's hitting a lusty .124, not at the high Class A level but at low-A Beloit in the Midwest League. Can you spell "o-v-e-r-m-a-t-c-h-e-d?"

And take a look at the lineup they're facing in the Yankees' Double-A club, division leader Trenton.

There's Justin Christian, 30, a long-time Triple-A vet who's played 24 games in the majors. And catcher Rene Rivera, 27, who has logged time with the Seattle Mariners.

It's like the men against the boys, but that's the way the Twins do things. They'd prefer to send up some kid who may as well step up to the plate waving a toothpick instead of a bat.

With the Rock Cats threatening to become one of the five worst teams in 87 years of EL history, I am reminded of the dismal 2000 club that was stocked with Midwest League kids as it lost its final 17 games. Now that was worthwhile putting your money out for, wasn't it fans?

Is it any surprise why none of those Midwest League kids in 2000 ever made it back as high as Double-A for any length of time?

Is it 2000 all over again? Stay tuned.

ELUSIVE WINS SWEET FOR CATS

2010-07-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

The Rock Cats clubhouse has had the aura of a funeral parlor most of the season.

The individual players go about their jobs admirably in light of the team’s record, particularly at home, but collectively they’re hushed after defeats.

The boom box that pulses with urban and Latino songs is silent, strangely obscured by the sounds of low-level chatter, running showers, equipment falling to the floor and the whir of washing machines.

It’s understandable, and appropriate. The Twins would no doubt want their players of the future to contemplate why each loss happens and what they can do to best represent the organization and themselves as the dog days of summer begin to howl.

The scene is anything but quiet when the result is good.

On Thursday night, left-handed pitcher Tyler Robertson threw his best game of the season. Throwing his curveball and slider for strikes, his fastball had some added sizzle and he made the young Portland Sea Dog hitters uncomfortable.

Saturday’s game featured a dramatic ending with an inspirational backdrop supplied by the bat, the tenacity and the beaming personality of catcher Jair Fernandez.

Fernandez, injured in a collision with Reading catcher Kevin Nelson at home plate July 8, appeared headed for the disabled list.

He wasn’t able to brace himself properly for impact and his right knee hyperextended. It had all the look of season-ending ligament damage, but here he was, eight days later, pressed into action as a late-inning replacement. He ripped into a fastball from Portland pitcher Bryson Cox and sent it majestically over the wall in left field for a 6-4 Rock Cats victory, just their 12th win at home in 48 starts.

Like Robertson the night before, the excitement of winning blended with a huge degree of personal satisfaction set off an emotional rush for Fernandez, a 6-foot-1, 170-pound 23-year-old from Cartagena, Colombia.

Robertson, a low-key 22-year-old lefthander out of Simi Valley, Calif., had a tendency to keep the exhilaration bottled up inside but it leaked out. His delivery during the interview did as much to his words as his mound delivery did for his ERA.

With Fernandez, the excitement was more palpable, perhaps because his achievement happened so suddenly and ended the game the instant it left his bat. Fernandez broadcast a smile that brought sunshine to a clubhouse that has been all too overcast all season.

You can’t help but feel good that these youngsters have had a moment in the sun, and where it carries them in their careers is anybody’s guess. What you immediately discern is that when wins come in sparse number, the ones that do come your way bring on that much more pleasure.

REHAB THERAPY

2010-07-14T10:37:00.000-07:00

Rumors abounded dating back a week that New Britain Stadium might be the scene of a rehabilitation start for Red Sox starter Josh Beckett on Friday.

Beckett, folks hypothesized, could make a start for the Portland Sea Dogs. It was a reasonable assumption. MLB clubs prefer their pitchers to rehab at the home of their nearby minor league affiliates, but Portland, Triple-A Pawtucket and even short-season Class A Lowell will all be on the road come Friday. Pitching for Portland at New Britain or Pawtucket at Syracuse or Lowell in Batavia, N.Y., left the Red Sox some choices.

As the week went on, it became reasonable to assume that righthander Clay Buchholz could also be making a rehab start on Friday. New Britain's chances of seeing a big leaguer at work were improving.

But a report on the NESN website late Wednesday morning said the Red Sox have decided to pitch Buchholz on Friday and Beckett on Saturday, both for Pawtucket in Syracuse. It appears that New Britain fans will have to be satisfied with future big leaguers instead of present ones. Rock Cats officials expect a sellout on Friday anyway.

IN PURSUIT OF PIE-FECTION

2010-07-02T19:10:00.000-07:00

We're sitting around on a perfect Friday afternoon on the eve of Independence Day weekend and thinking about getting a pizza.

This is always a difficult decision in the Lipshez household. It's a decision that forces us to weigh quality versus distance. Here's how it goes.

There's some decent pizza in the immediate area. We'll do one at Joey Garlic in Farmington on Route 6 once in awhile, or maybe Naples near Farmington center on Route 4. They'll do in a pinch but you must remember I'm a New Haven boy.

New Haven boys take their apizza seriously. No typo there. If the 'a' is out front you're reasonably sure it's an Italian-style pie. As a Jewish boy growing up among many Italians, you learn that the word is pronounced "ah-beetz."

When you're talking pie in New Haven, you're talking Wooster Street -- Little Italy -- and with all due respect for Sally's, Pepe's is the king. The original Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napolitano is celebrating its 85th year making their signature tomato pie in a coal-fired brick oven that reaches temperatures that no regular oven can match. The result is a crust that is ultra thin and gives special meaning to the word crispy.

The place is legendary. People traveling between New York and Boston on I-95 will often stop and get in the long line that snakes out the door and along Wooster Street. I've stood in that line for 45 minutes in the rain waiting for a pepperoni pie.

I went through grade school with a happy-g0-lucky guy named Francis Roselli and his cousin Nancy Pepe. They're Frank Pepe's grandchildren. The only times I've seen Francis since those carefree days were at the restaurant on Wooster Street. To the best of my knowledge, he's still helping run things. I tried emailing him through the website, pepespizzeria.com, but I've never heard from him.

Anyway, the Pepe's people decided to spread their dough a few years ago. They opened a place in Fairfield County, and then in Manchester across the street from the Buckland Hills mall. That's where we usually go.

The atmosphere isn't like New Haven but the apizza is amazing. And there are some great photos on the wall. Ronnie Reagan making his way through the crowd for his pie. Bill Clinton trying to wrap his lips around a steaming slice. You don't see guys like that having pizza in New Britain or Farmington, do ya?

So we're thinking, do we go to Manchester and battle the holiday weekend traffic for the best, or do we go down to Southington for the reasonable facsimile that Randy's Wooster Street Pizza puts out.

"It's up to you," sez Lisa.

"We're going to Manchester," sez I.

Well I don't know all the reasons why but there was no rush-hour traffic. We made in to Buckland Hills in about 20 minutes, not a whole lot longer than it would have taken to cruise to Queen Street in Southington.

Mozzarella and sausage throughout, 'shrooms on half and peppers on the other half. Baby, it doesn't get any better than that, except damn I missed my pepperoni. They make their own, you know, more spicy and flavorful than any other pepperoni on the planet. I could have done bacon, too.

Well, there's always tomorrow.

ANTIETAM, YUENGLING AND A DUTCH TREAT

2010-06-30T06:00:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a vacation to Antietam and Strasburg.

Do you know how many people have said, "What the heck is Antietam, and did you really visit with the Washington Nationals' rookie pitching sensation?"

In regard to the first part of the inquiry, I feel ashamed for someone who has to ask that. To the second part, I don't believe that Stephen Strasburg has anything to do with Strasburg, Pa., a striking little burgh in the Pennsylvania Dutch Country dotted with houses out of Hansel and Gretel and a famous railroad museum.

The Antietam part is a serious matter to me. Antietam is the name of the creek that flows through the softly rolling hills of Sharpsburg, Md. On Sept. 17, 1862, the bloodiest battle involving Americans was fought there, a crucial clash in the outcome of the Civil War.

Over 23,000 men were either killed or wounded at Antietam. The tales of how the skirmishes unfolded are testament to their bottomless courage and the utter uselessness of war. Imagine walking stealthily through a cornfield, stalks reaching six feet tall, with your rifle ready, your eyes as big as silver dollars and fixed with the realization that your life could end abruptly at any moment.

When the troops reached the end of the field, enemy soldiers were primed and waiting just a few feet away, kneeling and aiming. Thousands fell in minutes.

The battle raged for most of the day. Confederate General Robert E. Lee used the Hagerstown Road behind his long grey line to move troops rapidly to where they were needed. Union General George B. McClellan tried desperately to cross the three bridges that spanned Antietam Creek so he could outflank Lee's men.

The result was that Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was denied its master strategy of taking the war directly to Pennsylvania and the north. Lee would try again a year later at Gettysburg and fail.

Why should you care? Why do I care? I do not want these men who gave their lives to be forgotten. I can only think of the young athletes that I cover -- the high school seniors and the minor league baseball players -- forced to fight wars instead of being able to engage in more figurative battles that don't generally spill blood.

I visited the graves at Antietam last week and in Gettyburg last year and I connected with those who fought so that I could cover baseball games for a living. I focused on Lincoln's stirring Gettyburg Address and Lee's foiled war strategy. Remembering is the least I can do.

I went to the Pennsylvania Dutch Country for a variety of reasons. I'm captivated by the simplicity of the Amish lifestyle and just as overwhelmed how brilliantly they have mastered the tenets of tourism. The Amish won't drive mechanized vehicles but they will ride in them. But believe me, they'll sell you just about anything you can imagine.

We bought homemade root beer and took a guided tour on one of their little horse-drawn buggies. We frequented the shops in their attractively named villages of Intercourse, Bird-in-Hand and Blue Ball and watched others put out top dollar for quilts, pottery and other bric-a-brac.

The other reason we went to Pennsylvania is so I could bring home some Yuengling. I'm no beer connoisseur but I know what I like, and nothing tastes quite like a cold Yuengling Original Lager on a hot day. I think I said the same thing about Coors when it was only available west of the Mississippi. Maybe I can't resist that lure when something is taboo.

And then there's baseball. Take a vacation from baseball writing and what do I do? Search for a ballgame, and I found one at Lancaster's Clipper Magazine Stadium. The independent Barnstormers of the Atlantic League were hosting the Bridgeport Bluefish. Wily Mo Pena, that slugger Boston traded to Cincy for Bronson Arroyo, hit a homer to win it for Bridgeport.

Now it's back home to the Rock Cats and the same old story -- the grandstands are packed but the Cats have been sent out onto New Britain's cold, cruel diamond without the claws necessary to compete with the Portlands and Trentons.

BAD LUCK OR NONE AT ALL

2010-06-16T10:12:00.000-07:00

If bad luck were base hits, the New Britain Rock Cats would be scratching at the penthouse door instead of living in a basement that has been all but sealed for 2010.

The team's most highly touted prospect -- center fielder Ben Revere -- has certainly lived up to advanced billing. He's a born .300 hitter, can steal bases with the best of them and tracks fly balls down as well as any we've seen south of Torii Hunter. But Revere has dealt with so many nagging injuries that trainer Chad Jackson's dossier on him could serve as a script for ER.

When Revere flipped his ankle after stepping on a bat last month, it looked like he would be logging DL time but he persevered. On the recent road trip, he sustained an eye injury when he took a knee to the head. Two punches set him up and the third one knocked him out. He tried to give the Rock Cats a first-inning lead Tuesday with a head-first slide into the dish and was spiked. The wound had to be closed with stitches so he'll miss time.

Erik Lis fouled a ball off his ankle in Altoona. It wasn't your average "foul the ball off the foot, limp around for a moment or two then get back in the game" kind of thing. Lis, resilient and persistent like Revere, tried to continue but had to leave the game.

So, you have a team buried in the basement that has its sure all-star leadoff man out and its plus-.300 cleanup hitter ailing. Anything else? Sure.

Third baseman Yangervis Solarte didn't have any gold-plated prospect tags hanging off him when he arrived from Class A but this switch-hitting Venezuelan is a gamer. He's played outstanding defense at third, even though manager Jeff Smith said he's equally projected to play second, and has come up with some timely hits.

Naturally, Solarte strained his hamstring, which we all know can keep a player out or at less than 100 percent for months.

TO THE LORDS OF BASEBALL: Please, oh esteemed holy ones, can't you see Smith has played the role of Job long enough? The man has paid his dues. He's suffered a career's worth of setbacks in less than half a season.

How about allowing he and his battered Cats to keep some of their dignity by letting them remain healthy for the second half and give the great fans of central Connecticut the competitive baseball they so richly deserve.

How about allowing Carlos Gutierrez or Kyle Gibson to pitch a no-hitter? Or maybe one of the Cats' wayward relievers can suddenly find some late movement or an extra yard on his fastball.

We've got to give our gallant radio announcer Jeff Dooley something to be happy about. He's a good lad, even if he didn't know that Barney Fife's boss was Andy Griffith and why his partner Joe D'Ambrosio would have two blackbirds with rhyming names (Heckle and Jeckle) as his desktop decoration. Can we at least get him a winning homestand with a walk-off win or two and and some hits with runners in scoring position? How about an eensy-weensy save?

At least you Lords have ascertained that president/CEO Bill Dowling and his GM John Willi are terrific guys. You haven't caused any natural disasters like floods or typhoons to prevent fans from entering the stadium and they're coming in at a stirring 5,330 per opening. They have indeed withstood the unnatural disaster of the city-run parking situation at the yard. Those fans just keep on coming, Rock Cats record be damned.

So as the diamond scriptures tell us, the Rock Cats are destined to have just two kinds of luck in 2010. Bad luck and none at all. Hang in there guys. We love ya anyway.

THIS AND THAT

2010-06-15T06:06:00.000-07:00

A little of this and a little of that ...

The media is awash with talk of this vuvuzela, the plastic horn that World Cup enthusiasts are tooting in great number. It seems that soccer fans are finding them a distraction when watching games on television.

When I was working in the Eastern League back in the 1980s, they were a popular item amongst the younger set but we didn't have some elegant Spanish term for them. We called them horns, and there were those back then who hated them, too. Side note to New Britain Rock Cats GM John Willi and his promotional staff: Please don't go there. I'm sure Cats broadcasters Jeff Dooley and Joe D'Ambrosio are with me on this one. ...

Rock Cats are back home tonight for a quick 3-gamer with the Strasburg-less Harrisburg Senators. The locals presently hold a slight lead over the Baltimore Orioles for the unenviable distinction of being the worst team in professional baseball. At least the Cats don't have to face the constant challenge of playing the Yanks, Sox and Rays, but they've had enough headaches with the Curve, the Flying Squirrels and the Sea Dogs. ...

Kudos to the local high school teams and athletes that have represented this spring. I see the Farmington High girls golf team and Southington boys volleyball team have won state titles and New Britain track star Rob White continues to excel on a state and regional level. My absence on the high school beat come springtime always poses a dilemma for me since I can't be with the kids, but I'm watching and embracing what all of you have accomplished. Great job of coverage by my colleagues, too. ...

Best wishes to the CIAC's Michael Savage as he sets sail into his retirement. High school sports have taken giant steps forward under Mr. Savage. Best of luck to his successor Karissa Niehoff. Ms. Niehoff, currently the principal at Lewis Mills High School in Burlington, will do a great job, I'm sure. ...

In a related matter, I can tell you that the Connecticut Sports Writers' Alliance, an organization I've helped steer for 15 years, is working closely with the CIAC to make conditions more favorable for the media. That in turn allows reporters to publicize the great accomplishments of our student-athletes.

CSWA president Robert Ehalt and the CIAC's Stephanie Ford have been at the forefront of this effort and it is bearing fruit. The transition to today's technology is both demanding and requires great communication between all parties concerned, and thanks to Ehalt, Ford and CIAC computer whiz Matt Fischer, we have turned the corner. ...

COLLEGE BALL = DOUBLE-A? NO, SIR.

2010-06-05T13:58:00.000-07:00

It was brought to my attention that one regional newspaper ran an editorial urging support for the NCAA Baseball Regionals being played this weekend at Dodd Stadium in Norwich.

I concur. Folks should go to Norwich and watch UConn, Central Connecticut State University, Oregon and Florida State do battle. In UConn, you have one of the Huskies' better teams and some great local talent. Central had a terrific year. Florida State and Oregon come from two of the best conferences in the country.

But please don't insult the intelligence of baseball fans by saying an NCAA Regional is equivalent to Double-A. I've found that it is generally accepted that top-level college ball can be compared to high Class A, maybe even a shade better when teams like Texas and Florida State are playing, but the Division I midstream is a far cry from Double-A ball.

If it were Double-A's equal, you wouldn't be seeing pitchers like the New Britain Rock Cats' Kirk Gibson, a former Missouri Tiger, starting out in high A. In Gibson's case, he was up to the task in high A so he was promoted here in mid-May. Gibson, however, ranked as one of the better pitchers in the nation.

So I'm all for going to Norwich for some great college ball but I promise you you're not going to see the same quality you'll see day in and day out at New Britain Stadium and around the Eastern League. The bigger issue is that colleges use those pinging aluminum bats, at least until some poor pitcher gets killed, and games with 35 runs scored aren't unusual.

EVERY DAY IS MEMORIAL DAY

2010-05-31T19:57:00.000-07:00

The premise behind Memorial Day -- honoring those who have given their lives so that we can live in freedom -- should be far from a one-weekend commitment. Personally, a day does not go by without my thinking about the courage that our military personnel have and continue to display.

The nature of the holiday is to gather with family and friends for a welcome-to-summer barbecue. It's a terrific tradition, one that has been a favorite throughout my lifetime. I remember vividly meeting my Little League teammates to walk down a mile or two down the avenue with the whole town lining the route. Go ahead, attend those festive parades, enjoy that burger and relish your relationships.

But nobody should lose sight of what Memorial Day truly means.

In the last year, I have visited Gettysbury and shivered with the words of Abraham Lincoln's address ringing in my head as I stood in the very place where he spoke one of history's greatest pieces of rhetoric. Please read what he said, think of the sacrifices made by gallant young men on both sides of the battle line and try to absorb the meaning.

I also visited Yorktown, Va. How many of you remember its significance from your grade-school days? On a field in Yorktown, General George Washington accepted the surrender of the British to sanction the birth of the greatest nation Earth has even known.

Soon, I will be headed for Antietam in Maryland. It's many miles from any beach or ballpark. I don't expect to attend any carnivals or swill cocktails at a pub. I will stand at Burnside's Bridge and reflect on the 23,000 men who were killed or wounded there in the Civil War. I will walk those hallowed grounds and recall the description noting that you could walk for a mile without touching the ground because of all the dead bodies left behind.

I will go to Harper's Ferry, WV, where a man named John Brown and his five sons gave their lives in an ill-fated plan to eradicate slavery. When the Torrington native was hanged on Dec. 2, 1859, he said, "I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood." Was he a terrorist or freedom fighter?" Some questions history will never be able to answer.

Thus, I have two extra Memorial Days on my agenda. I will shed some tears. I will feel that familiar shiver tingle through my chest.

So many have died in so many wars fought to preserve our way of life. Baby boomers like me are fortunate that our parents' generation made the sacrifices that World War II demanded so that some goose-stepping control freaks and power-mad lunatics wouldn't be controlling our destiny. Similar sacrifices were made since by the brave souls who endured the bitter cold of Korean battlefields, the thick jungles rife with instruments of torture in Vietnam and the brutal conditions in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Let's not forget them, please.

DIRTY LAUNDRY ON COLLEGE CLOTHESLINES

2010-05-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

I've never had the chance to cover UConn men's basketball. I've never met Jim Calhoun. I cannot say that I have any professional insight on what goes on inside a big-time college program. My perspective is nothing more than that of a casual observer who once treasured college sports a lot more than he does today.

College sports began with nothing but good intent. You know, my school's better than your school so let's have a game. Now, like so many other things that were once wonderful, it's all about money.

I believe it was that great TV philosopher Dr. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce who said something to this effect: "The three basic human drives are greed, sex and greed." Division I college football and basketball rake in so much money and universities across the land have become so dependent on the windfall that greed courses through the very heart of the institution.

Big-time television contracts and huge revenue from tickets and advertising have created a recruiting scene dominated by shaky individuals under the auspices of AAU that rivals the underworld made relevant by crime and corruption. On the other side of the fence is an administering body so holier than thou that otherwise honest people can't help but become corrupt.

Which brings me to the issue at hand, the NCAA sanctions coming down the pike that have UConn fans holding their breath and the subsequent resignation of two assistant coaches. One of them -- Patrick Sellers -- was once a humble high school coach at St. Thomas Aquinas in New Britain.

I got to know Patrick in those days and found him to be a heck of a coach who loved his kids and a man who a sports writer could enjoy chatting with about the game. Patrick appears to me to be a scapegoat in this shady episode of flesh-peddling intrigue that hangs like a cloud of mustard gas over people who are inherently good.

I'm not smart enough to write a dissertation on how the NCAA could evolve into an organization that is fair to the so-called student athlete, tough on the criminals who have perpetrated an erstwhile benevolent organization like the AAU with the common sense necessary to alter the No Man's Land of major college basketball. All I know is that it must be done.

I do feel that college should be for those who wish to study and that the NBA's Developmental League is more geared for those who have no intention of seeking a college education and just seek to polish their resume for the pro game. The D-League should be to the NBA what minor league baseball in to MLB.

That's as far as I'm going to go here. Perhaps if they began there, people like Patrick Sellers wouldn't have to be hiding from the media now as my colleagues who cover the UConn beat do their best to find out exactly what went wrong and who's to blame. My only concern isn't whether UConn will be able to compete for national championships or not. I hope Pat Sellers lands on his feet.

THE PRESS BOX

2010-05-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

Perched high above the stadium which adds to its celestial air, the press box is an esteemed place for budding sports journalists and a charismatic, taboo place of intrigue to the fans.

It stands above the crowd, well lit and teeming with activity. Those who attempt to gain access are turned back by warnings about authorized personnel only, making it all the more fascinating. If the time ever comes when they have legitimate business there, they scan the ballpark with an agape expression, marveling at the view.

Okay, have I made it sound too romantic? I can buy that, but as a youngster with journalistic intentions at a very young age, that’s how I always saw it. Visits to Yankee or Shea Stadium brought out the intrigue. It got me to thinking of Mel Allen, Red Smith, Red Barber, Ralph Kiner, Lindsey Nelson, Bob Shepard and others of their grand stature walking through as if they were just human beings like me.

Autumns in the late 1960s would find me at Yale Bowl, ushering raccoon coats to their seats in Portal 14, the upper reaches of which were next to that sprawling blue press box. I’d catch glimpses of the New Haven Register sports writers I read voluminously growing up, like Yale grad Bob Barton who has since become a dear friend and respected colleague. I can still recall how he waxed poetic through personal heartbreak when he reported how Harvard “beat” the Yales of Brian Dowling and Calvin Hill, 29-29, to end the Elis’ bid for an unbeaten season in 1969.

So please be gentle with that common pin as you brush past my balloon. I don’t want to lose the hero-worshipping phase of a blessed childhood.

The years passed and I am now one of the few who gets to sit atop the seats behind home plate at New Britain Stadium for Rock Cats games. I have been there for 14 years and I would venture to say that over that time, I have missed fewer than 10 games. Perhaps as few as five of a grand total that I would estimate to be quite close to 1,000.

Thoughts harken back to a framed piece of needlework that hung on the wall over the bed that I slept in at my grandparents’ house as a small boy. I didn’t fully understand the words but my predilection with words in general engraved these in the recesses of my mind.

“The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.”

I didn’t know until running them through Google that the thought belong to Ralph Waldo Emerson. He couldn’t have known during his 19th century lifespan what the press box could mean to an ideological boy destined to write but the words work so beautifully.

The friends who frequent the press box at the Emerald start with two old and dear buddies, great disciples of our beautiful national pastime. Scoreboard operator Larry Michaels and Rock Cats radio voice Jeff Dooley have shared summer working quarters with me for a long time.

I’ve known Larry since Beehive Field made its Eastern League bow in 1983. His children grew up there. Only a catastrophe, or milestone like a wedding or graduation, can force Larry's fingers off that scoreboard or his eyes off the home plate umpire.

Dooley’s been at the Cats’ microphone for 13 seasons, and trust me when I say the Good Lord tossed away the mold when he created the Lord of Lincoln (Rhode Island). The guy has a heart of gold and a dedication that must keep his wife Marne and sons Joe and Ryan awake nights. Hopefully you know the type, one of those guys who would stop his car in traffic to pet a stray cat.

He works so diligently to make his broadcasts sound professional that he actually lost his temper once or twice when a technician dropped the ball.

Some have come and gone, like ex-Cats media relations specialist Chris McKibben and Dools’ former partner Dan Lovallo. You hate to see good people go but circumstances dictated their departure. But Chris was replaced by ever-smiling, equally vigilant Bob Dowling and Dan’s shoes were filled by highly esteemed UConn voice Joe D’Ambrosio, both of whom bring a charm all their own to our family.

Former New Britain High teacher and wrestling coach Ed Smith came in a few years back as official scorer, and as it is with Dools, you’ll never meet a nicer man. He is however a Notre Dame fan, and enjoys the crowded city streets more than my beloved country lanes, but we’ll overlook those items.

Others include intrepid PA announcer Don Steele, the best I’ve ever known, and gallant behind-the-scenes men like technology expert Luke Pawlak, music man Mike Torres and camera whiz Mike “Manny” Papazian. There are the usual visitors like rockcats.com's Heather Cavaliere, who makes every effort never to violate anybody’s personal space and always brings delectable baked goods from her family’s bakery in Portland – for Dooley!

I was so right back in the days of Yale Bowl. The press box surveying the scene is just a little closer to heaven.

SIMPLE PLEASURES

2010-05-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

As we scour the Connecticut countryside in search of simple pleasures, we discovered an avenue of decadent delight in the quiet corner.

State Route 97 runs north and south between the well-traveled northeast Hartford-to-Providence connectors routes 44 and 6, a gentle country lane that breezes through the farmland of Abington and Hampton.

The first of two stops on our taste bud-tempting tour is one my missus and I discovered more than 10 years ago. On that beautiful spring Sunday, we spotted a small hand-painted sign on a hill overlooking Route 44 that simply said, “We-Lik-It, Ice Cream, 1 mile,” with an arrow pointing south on 97.

Well one lesson that has been driven home time and time again is if you want something to eat or drink when you’re out in the country, don’t start pining for something familiar. Go where the natives go. If you see a cluster of cars and a smattering of cycles buzzing around a little shack, don’t scan the horizon for golden arches. For heaven’s sake, get in line!

I sidled up to the counter where a stunning young lady had scoop in hand, ready to serve.
“Is this ice cream fresh?” I asked in an attempt to stimulate conversation that my family and friends know well.

Answering a question with a question isn’t always the thing to do but it worked well here.
“Do you see that cow over there?” she said, gesturing around the side of the building where a bossy or two were grazing.

I got the picture.

The ice cream was out of this world, so we keep making excuses to return to the northeast corner.

“Tag sale? In Pomfret?” said I.

“Sure, why not?” said Lisa. “We-Lik-It!”

One strawberry rhubarb on a wafer cone later, we hopped back in Lady Avalanche in search of an adventure to make this Saturday a success. Boy, did we ever find it!

About two miles south of We-Lik-It, we saw a familiar sign indicating one of the state’s fine wineries was off the beaten track.

Now neither of us is one of those connoisseurs that smells the wine, swishes it between our molars, wrinkle our brow and hand out descriptions that mean nothing to most people, many of who spent their late teenage years and early 20s swilling either Boone’s Farm Apple Wine, Ripple or Yago Sant’gria at The Ground Round.

The bright sun that had the temperature into the low 80s glinted through the forest on either side. We navigated a few curves and suddenly the forest opened into a beautiful meadow of the greenest grass and wildflowers.

About a quarter-mile later, a sign welcomed us to Sharpe Hill Winery and a more fortuitous right-hand turn I’ve never made. A meticulously maintained 1700s-era farmhouse was surrounded by a sprawling vineyard. A colonial-style fence snaked up a stone drive where we parked and entered a pristine barn-like structure where a friendly woman was pouring out concoctions, some as clear as spring water, others with a hint of red and some deep maroon.

She directed us to an outdoor patio where we sat in rocking chairs, soaked up some sun and wet our lips with Sharpe Hill’s labor of love transformed lovingly from what was growing on the nearby vines not so long ago.

For $10, Lisa and I got to taste five different varieties. I guess the server appreciated my gentlemanly charm because we got to sample seven, including two of the delicious dessert wines that we have come to enjoy from time to time.

We kept sipping, that sun kept shining and she kept bringing more. The only problem was the 45-minute ride return to reality loomed.

Sharpe Hill also operates a restaurant on the premises, a thought that we food junkies found tantalizing. The salivary juices bubbled through the wine when she announced what was on the menu. Unfortunately, there were no openings for dinner and we weren’t prepared to stay.

The restaurant operates only selected hours so our hostess suggested that we make plans well in advance, particularly if we thought the idea of dining, sipping local wine amid the changing leaves of late September or early October offered any attraction. Ummm, yes.

Well we had pushed hospitality to the limit. Our $10 had been astutely and refreshingly spent and it wasn’t fair to sit there much longer with the first traces of an eager dinner crowd crunching up the stone drive.

We were on our way home – Hampton, Ashford, Willimantic, 384, over the river and through those nasty West Hartford curves. A Saturday well spent.

AN OBBEY PRESCRIPTION

2010-04-20T06:49:00.000-07:00

Pay attention, my health-conscious reader, because what Dr. Lip is about to prescribe could save your life.

You think I'm kidding? You think I'm going off on one of my rants to elicit laughter? Well, the good doctor says that can help save lives, too, but I'm about to give you some advice that you should eagerly take.

Why? Because this medicine doesn't taste bad and this procedure does not cause any pain. It's about adjusting your attitude to convince every atom and molecule in your body that life is wonderful.

My best buddy Ronnie and I call it "Obbey Ride." Obbey is short for obnoxious, because that's what we were back in the day when time moved so much slower and responsibilities were so few. Simply put, we got our way or we would make life difficult for the others in the group. I hope I don't have to give any examples because I won't on the grounds that I may incriminate myself, and even worse, Ronnie.

An Obbey Ride for the Obbey Brothers consists of jumping in my 2005 Avalanche with no particular destination in mind, tuning XM Radio to the Grateful Dead channel and cruising without caring where we end up.

We never go real far. We may be obbey but we are no longer obbey to our wonderful spouses, because they in turn could be very obbey to us and that wouldn't be pleasant at all. So, we tend to come home before the dawning of a new day, and we come home sober, with no police records and not even a dent in the Avalanche.

We look forward to these rides with great anticipation. Ronnie has been through several surgeries. He's dealing with other family issues. He needs the release.

I'm thanking God that my problems have been less acute, but the rigors of meeting deadlines and coming up with fresh ideas for stories and leads all the time can be draining. And I have my family issues, too, with a son who brings obbey to a whole new level previously beyond even the imagination of the Obbey Brothers.

So we drive. I drive. Ronnie drives. When we have to pee, we stop, and we're in our late 50s now so peeing often comes with the territory. We like our Dunkin' Donuts coffee so peeing is one of our favorite pastimes.

When we want to stop, we stop. When we don't want to stop, we keep going. When "Bertha" or "Me and My Uncle" or one of many Dead classics come roaring through my Bose speakers, we crank it up and bop to our heart's content. Nobody sees us so who cares. Oh, maybe the guy in the next car thinks we're crazy but we have a message for him that I just don't think is appropriate to print here.

We eat. We tend to end up at Pepe's Pizza either in New Haven or Manchester. We may find some seafood at Dino's in North Haven or down in Ronnie's hometown of West Haven. But we eat. I just wonder why he never gains any weight and I have to eat rabbit food for a month to lose a pound.

But the amazing thing is Obbey Rides have huge therapeutic value. They make us happy. For one day, they remove the stress from our lives and bathe us in the glory of reminiscing. Stress. there it is, dear reader, and that's the key to Dr. Lip's prognosis for the day.

Take your Obbey Ride soon. Call it whatever you want, but give your best pal a call and schedule one today. It goes a long way toward a happy, healthy life.

WHATTA DAY !!

2010-04-17T20:09:00.000-07:00

What a day in sports!

My dedicated sports-fan wife Lisa and I rushed home from her mom's birthday dinner to catch the tip-off for the Celtics-Heat playoff game. I get to do the channel surfing so I bopped around the Comcast lineup.

Come to find out that Colorado Rockies pitcher Ubaldo Jimenez tossed a no-no against the Atlanta Braves. That makes it a rare day in itself.

In monitoring other games on mlb.com, I noted that the St. Louis Cardinals and New York Mets had quite the string of scoreless innings going. Would you believe 18?

Meanwhile the Celtics, pretty horrible through much of the game, made a nice comeback and were putting a wrap on Game 1 when a melee broke out near the Heat bench. Paul Pierce got dumped and was lying on the floor near the bench when the players started pushing and shoving.

Leave it to Kevin Garnett to say something. He got two technicals and was ejected. Miami has a new life with 4o seconds to go.

While the refs are trying to sort it out, I'm searching the Comcast lineup for the Mets game. It wasn't on SNY. It wasn't on CNX Ch. 9. The Comcast guide didn't help because the game should have been over four hours ago. Where the heck is it? I start going through the channels one by one when I discovered it was the Fox Game of the Week.

The Mets scored in the 19th and the Cards tied it up? No. And former Rock Cats pitcher Kyle Lohse is playing where? Left field? And a position player named Mather is pitching? What's wrong with that picture? Is the great Tony La Russa still managing the Cards or did he get two technicals, too?

The Celts and Heat finally started up and the Celts hang on. Great game for Tony Allen, Tommy points galore.

Back to the Mets. They score in the 20th and after 7 hours of baseball, the Mets win the damned thing.

And through all that. the Red Sox and Tampa are still going because they had to finish up the suspended game from Friday. Cool. More baseball.

And with the Stanley Cup Playoffs going, I'm sure something exciting happened there, but I don't give a hoot about hockey.

NO MORE LETDOWNS

2010-03-11T07:06:00.000-08:00

The last thing in the world most people want to do when they get out of work is what they were doing at work.

I'm pretty sure doctors don't do any doctoring, lawyers don't do any lawyering and undertakers don't undertake any undertaking. So after many years traveling One-Track-Mind Boulevard, I decided I wasn't going to come home after covering a basketball game and watch basketball. I found how I could select an exit to a glorious past.

Before I go into that, let me tell you that I've created a monster in my own household. My dedicated wife Lisa has become a bigger sports fan than me. She adores everything UConn, agonizes over the nagging injuries to Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce and even watched some hockey (Olympics, mind you, not the version that crosses pro wrestling with roller derby).

I've analyzed the reason why I can no longer come home and watch the meaningless college basketball games or listen to some pseudo-expert harangue about who is going to win this or that with no repercussions when their opinions fall flat. The reason is that I can't depend on sports to make me happy, with the notable exception of the UConn women whose 40-point victories no longer compel me.

I find myself in the grip of some inner demon when the Celtics lose to (gasp!) the Nets at home. I'm tortured when the Giants defense takes on water like the Titanic. I need something I can rely on to make me happy. Hey, I work hard. I deserve it.

Well, I'm relieved to say that the forces have come together and made me a satisfied late-night couch potato.

First, we bought an HDTV. For years I debated plasma vs. LCD and all those alpha-numeric terms like 1080i and 1080p. We pulled the trigger and bought a Panasonic Plasma 42-incher.

Pulled the trigger? Perfect analogy.

When I learned how to use the DVR on my trusty new Comcast cable box, I began to scan the channels to find out what I wanted to record for convenient viewing. That's when I looked at the programming schedule for the channel called Encore Westerns.

There it was, my childhood pleasures laid out in front of me like dear, sweet Mom used to lay out my school clothes. The block of Bonanza in the afternoon was a terrific sight, but I've viewed every one of Bonanza's 440-plus episodes time and time again. You do that when you look in the mirror and decide you're some kind of reincarnation of Hoss.

But I never got into some of the others as deeply. Gunsmoke, of course, is legendary. It ignited the incredible run of Westerns on television when I was a toddler and remained long after the genre had its halcyon days fade away.

Man, I've gotten so into Gunsmoke that I'm feeling like I have a room overlooking the streets of Dodge City from the second floor of Miss Kitty's Long Branch Saloon. And you know what? Matt Dillon never lets me down, except he just won't kiss Kitty.

Then there's Have Gun - Will Travel. I remembered some of the primary facts about the series (1957-63), like Richard Boone played Paladin and the haunting exit music, "Have Gun Will Travel reads the card of a man. ... Paladin, Paladin where do you roam?" But I couldn't recall too much about the actual episodes. I was a bit young at the time.

But let me tell you there's no one cooler than Paladin. You want to know more, go to http://www.hgwt.com/ and read about him and the show to your heart's content. Encore Westerns runs it once in the early morning and another episode in the early evening, followed by Gunsmoke. Now there's a double-header I'm not about to miss, given the incredible power of the DVR at my fingertips.

So each night when my work is done, I'm not going to sit here and pound more sports into my sports-addled brain, not when I can rely on Matt Dillon and Paladin, baby. Even in black-and-white, they give me a look into life in the West in the 1880s. Sorry KG, sorry Pierce, sorry Lisa. I'll pick up March Madness in the semifinals and the NBA Playoffs only if the old and tired Celts have a miracle brewing. Otherwise, I'm working on my quick-draw.

A TALE OF THE SMOKING GUN

2010-03-01T09:52:00.000-08:00

The trails were dusty and pitted.

Transportation by overland stage jostled a traveler’s bones like lottery ping pong balls. Arriving on horseback between cities that we can reach in hours took days. Instead of a motel and shower, adventurers found basic comfort laying in a bedroll by a campfire and bathing in a stream when they could find one.

Ah, the legend of the wild West, from the time gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill until wondrous inventions like the automobile and telephone turned dusty memories into legend.
That truly was a long time ago, when men did things like punching a man in the gut for looking at him funny or shooting him for anything worse. A popular saying at the time was, “There’s no law west of the Misissippi River and west of Dodge City, there’s no God.”

How uncouth. We don’t do anything like that today, refined and cultured as we are. Heavens no, or do we?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the internet, where lawlessness and anarchy reign just as sure as they did behind the swinging doors in those shoot-em-up western saloons.

Maybe it’s even worse. At least if somebody threw a punch or fired a shot at you at the Long Branch Saloon, you knew who was delivering it.

On the lawless plains of the internet, perpetrators don’t even have to announce themselves to fire shots. They use false names and even misrepresent other people whom they hold in contempt.

Unlike our gruff western ancestors, they don’t have the guts to stare a man in the eye before they strike. They don’t provide the courtesy of even the most despicable gunfighters inching closer and closer with gun hand ready as the women and children head for shelter. They hide behind the brambles of anonymity, shielding themselves cowardly from any possible retaliation.

Even these techno-twerps need some kind of forum in which to spread their venom, and sports make a fine vehicle. Many take aim at the local pro or college teams. Arguably, they’re fair game with their million dollar salaries and in the case of college athletes, the free education they receive at a value of a few hundred grand.

While the pros and high-profile collegians have mothers too, I’ve given up railing about how Sox and Yankee fans yearn for even more superstars in the lineup after every defeat. Fire away, malcontents. I wonder what it’s like to have no life.

But attacking high school coaches? In the Old West, that would be akin to staging an Indian massacre where mothers and babies were fair game.

A high school basketball coach earns in the neighborhood of $5,000. Most of them are teachers primarily, folks with the vision, talent and desire to guide our malleable youngsters through the challenge of their turbulent teens.

They play to win, but temper that with an attempt to give deserving candidates a fair shot. An athlete has got to be a student and good citizen first. From there, they are rewarded for how much they put into their respective games and the talent with which they’ve been blessed.

From the minds of the people behind giving trophies to Little League teams that go 0-16, I remind you that enabling youngsters presents them with a false sense that life habitually rewards non-achievers. Thus, if a high school sophomore loves baseball but simply can’t play, the coach is morally committed to suggest other avenues of self-expression.

Because many of today’s parents absorbed unfortunate messages during the start of the Everybody Gets Trophies Era, they simply can’t see beyond their own needs. They don’t get their way so they go into their cozy computer rooms, strap on their holsters, load their six-guns with misspelled invectives and fire away.

So you think the world has progressed so much since Marshal Dillon dined with Doc and Miss Kitty? Think again. Custer had his day of reckoning and I can only hope the internet snipers get theirs.

NEW BLOOD

2010-02-23T11:51:00.000-08:00

If I spend too much time on this entry telling you about the tenuous future of newspapers, I would be wasting your time. You all know that newspaper circulation is down and young people aren't in the habit of turning pages between sips of morning coffee.

Since my salary comes from being a sports reporter, the viability of the industry is of great consequence to me. Thus, I will never stop trying to promote newspapers, whether it's on the deck of a sinking ship or not. If it is sinking, I'm too set in ways to do anything but go down with the ship.

Throughout my time in the business, I have always availed myself to youngsters showing an interest in our craft. It has turned up some interesting twists and turns that have helped the papers I've worked and assisted young people in shaping the foundation of their professional lives.

I like to tell the high school athletic directors I know to keep an eye out for talent -- a devoted interest in sports and a love for expression through writing. A number of years ago, former Rocky Hill High AD Brian Fell told me of such a young man. The discussion cleared a path for my learned colleague Ryan Pipke joining the fold, first as a part-timer, then as a full-time writer and now as assistant sports editor.

About the same time, I was asked by golf coach/student newspaper advisor Bob Francini to speak to a group of aspiring journalists at New Britain High. Among them was a sports-loving young man with a flair for said expression named Ryan Cote.

Cote eventually became a part-time writer for the Herald, a position he held for the most part to augment our comprehensive coverage of local high school football.He did a nice job but ultimately determined that a lifetime as a newspaper sports reporter was not what he wanted. He opted to get his teaching certificate and is teaching part time at his alma mater.

A segment of life came full-circle Tuesday morning when I made a presentation to HIS class. As always, I found some of the youngsters bright-eyed and interested while others doodled and gazed into space, but whether the seeds sprout remains to be seen. As always, I found the experience to be personally fulfilling because the youngsters keep me feeling as young as this tired old 57-year-old body allows.

TIME FOR THE ROCKING CHAIR

2010-02-14T07:50:00.000-08:00

I have nothing against the UConn men's basketball program. Ambivalence would be the best word to describe my level of interest in it.

But when the media covers each game like Under Armour apparel, I generally take a look.

I read with interest one account of how Jim Calhoun berated a state columnist. The columnist couldn't even get one-third of the question out of his mouth when the coach publicly ridiculed him. I could see if the question was inane, and as a person who has to conduct interviews often, sometimes our questions can be weak, but that wasn't the case here. It had the makings of a question that needed to be asked yet was never fully articulated.

I have a deep respect for Calhoun. Anybody who doesn't would be a fool. The man is a coaching genius and has done plenty to put Connecticut on the sports map, but he isn't so high and mighty that he should embarass (a word the coach used often in his postgame press conference after the 60-48 loss to Cincinnati) an esteemed journalist trying to do his job.

The Huskies lost? So what. Somebody loses every time a game is played. The coach's reaction was like that of a petulant teenager who had his I-phone taken away.

I truly believed after hearing of Calhoun's recent medical leave that he should leave the coaching ranks for reasons of self-preservation. I would like to see him enjoy his family and friends for a few years before his time here is through. Judging from the nature of the reports on Calhoun's recent malady, stress is at the roots. Stress is a killer, and if I were Jim, I wouldn't let the bastard win.

With his medical leave over, I thought Calhoun would tone down his act but I guess he can't. Perhaps raining verbal abuse on reporters and columnists is something that has gone on in UConn postgame circles for years. That I wouldn't know because I've never covered a UConn game and nor do I want to.

He reminds me of the grade-school bully who rules with an iron fist at the top of the heap until somebody, or in this case something, knocks him off. I revel in the body of his work but given the account of his postgame actions, that's where my respect ends.

The Huskies are having a bad season. Certain things didn't work out. Live with it, Coach Calhoun, and stop trying to slay the messenger. It's Valentine's Day, Jimmy. Can't you show a little love?

WEATHER OR NOT

2010-02-10T19:16:00.000-08:00

I had to pick up a few groceries Tuesday afternoon and found the Stop & Shop parking lot jammed.

Now I'm not one for watching weather reports. I figure why worry about something I can't control. If it's going to snow, I'll wear my galoshes. But small talk is a great conveyor of current events so it did dawn on me that there was a blizzard in the forecast.

I never could understand why a nor'easter sends people to the market to stock up like they're going to be snowbound for a month. When was the last time any of us spent more than a full day in the house because of a snowstorm? Inches fall, the plows come out, you shovel the drive and you're good to go the next day. I'd swear these meteorologists must get free groceries every time they mention snow.

Anyway, while I was checking out, I was checking out this divine little check-out girl named Jenni.

"Jenni," I said. "Whaddya think about all this snow talk?"

She said, "I hate snow. It's not going to snow."

"Okay, I'll remember that."

So it snowed, not the 10 to 16 inches that the weather reports stated but a mere dusting. The moral of the story is, if you want a better weather report, see your neighborhood check-out girl. She'll probably be closer to being right.

PONDEROSA PINING

2010-01-25T20:20:00.000-08:00

They're all gone.

The four men who stimulated my childhood television viewing experience every Sunday night at 9 p.m., and for decades later in syndication, have now all died.

The show was Bonanza. The last living resident of the Ponderosa Ranch, Pernell Roberts who played the role of Adam Cartwright, the eldest of Ben Cartwright's three sons, died of cancer Sunday at the age of 81.

Roberts turned his back on the show that catapulted him to stardom after six seasons. Ben (Lorne Greene), Hoss (Dan Blocker) and Little Joe (Michael Landon) carried on. David Canary, who still stars in one of the soap operas, replaced Roberts on the show, but only as a ranch-hand, not a Cartwright.

When Pernell goes to his final resting place, he brings with him a huge part of my youth.

TWEETING WAS FLEETING

2010-01-16T07:14:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I experienced a very unusual surge.

This mysterious force convinced a man who prefers black-and-white movies over computer-generated aliens, Have Gun Will Travel over the Simpsons and the literature of James Fenimore Cooper over Steven King suddenly decided to look into this social networking phenomenon that's sweeping us up.

Yes, the guy who has watched Casablanca 30 times and wouldn't go see Avatar if he had an engraved invitation, a free bucket of popcorn and a limousine ride to the theater decided to peer into the present.

Sorry, I didn't like what I saw.

I was tweeting for awhile, and I must say that speaking my mind in the framework of 144 characters is hardly my style. On top of that, my Twitter account was hacked and threatened to bring down my computer, which as you would gather I use quite conservatively. So to my young colleagues, I say, tweet to your heart's content but you'll no longer find me among the songbirds.

Then there's Facebook.

The moon must have been aligned with Jupiter or something the day I signed up for Facebook. At first, I enjoyed it. I wrote some notes about what I was up to and chatted with friends and colleagues. Then I came to my senses.

Why the heck do I want everybody to know what I'm doing all the time? It's not that I'm ashamed of it. What can possibly be decadent about covering high school basketball or disruptive about taking long rides through the countryside listening to the Grateful Dead? And I'm not even lighting up.

I don't cheat on my wife nor do I have the slightest urge to do so. Thus, I'm not particularly interested in rekindling old flames. Any old friends with whom I'd like to reconnect aren't going to be on Facebook anyway. Many of them may not even have computers. Heck I have friends who refuse to allow the internet to invade their homes, and I'd be fibbing if I said I hadn't given that some consideration.

But the bottom line is this: I have no urge to thrust my thoughts and meanderings into the face of others. I truly couldn't care less that somebody's kids are going to a birthday party and another's are playing hockey. I'm not interested in the weather in Orlando or somebody's family photos from their European vacation. Thus, I don't figure anybody's interested in my visit to Goodwin Tech last night, or the fact that I'm looking for a good restaurant in Springfield tonight before the New Britain boys play. I'm not figuring anybody cares who I think is going to win the Super Bowl. I'm sure I'd be wrong anyway.

I have regressed, or perhaps progressed, to the point where neither Twitter nor Facebook will soak up my free time. I'll check Facebook now and then to see who wants me to be their friend or to see if any long lost buddies are buzzing around, but I'm not prone to feign such self-importance that I'm going to prattle on about the accomplishments of my offspring, siblings or myself.

So crank up another episode of Gunsmoke. Time for another chapter in my Humphrey Bogart biography. Think I'll drive around the corner an extra time to hear the end of "Truckin," but I believe for the time being, the only tweeting done around here will be by the robins come April.

NBHS HOOPS: A GREAT PLACE TO BE

2010-01-04T20:37:00.000-08:00

My experience at Monday’s boys basketball game between New Britain and Northwest Catholic reinforced my appreciation for high school sports.

It starts with the people.

There’s John the ticket seller. I never walk into a New Britain sporting event without John having something nice to say about my work. With the intense nature of getting out stories with a 10 p.m. deadline, I really don’t have the time to chat with him to the extent that I’d like but every writer likes to hear that people are reading the stories and blogs.

The Northwest Catholic folks are terrific. Athletic director Josh Reese and boys coach John Mirabello are two of the nicest people around. No wonder kids love to play hoops there. I’ve always wished that the Herald could cover Northwest. I haven’t seen girls coach Karl Herbert yet this season but no one is more deserving of the success that he’s enjoying. He’s got his club at the top of the state polls and it wouldn’t surprise me if he ends up there.

The Indians lost to New Britain, 63-59, yet Mirabello, as always, stressed the positive after the game. He truly felt that the lessons gained by his young club will pay dividends down the line. I don’t doubt it. He’s got a nice mix of veterans (Julian Harris, J.C. Carr, Tom Bourdon) and perhaps the best freshman in the state in 6-foot-8 Kuran Iverson.

Again because of how pressure-packed it is to get a story out, I rarely have a chance to chat with the fans. There were so many former NB players and parents and I’d love to sit down for a cup of coffee with them all. I just hope they fully understand that stringing together a game story in a matter of minutes chips away at my free time.

The same goes for the New Britain administration.

The work of athletic director Lenny Corto, site director Bill Ackerman, clock operator Paul Majeski, official scorer Michelle Abraham and the other coaches like Mimi Parks who lend a hard is generally unnoticed. The atmosphere wouldn’t be as pleasant if the PA system is malfunctioning but Ackerman makes sure everything is in order. Abraham balances the scorebook quicker than anybody I’ve ever worked with, and that’s a huge bonus when you’re trying to get a story out. The PA work turned in by Randy Brochu gives Chick Shea Gym a college-like aura.

East Hartford’s talented 6-foot-6 forward Jakarri McCalop went out of his way to stop by to say hello after the game. He wanted to know when I was going to cover one of his games. I hope I get the pleasure because New Britain and East Hartford are not scheduled to play during the regular season. Maybe I can catch him when the Hornets play Newington. His kindness warmed my heart.

I had the chance to chat with Tebucky Jones after the game. I could talk to him for hours. I hope I can find the time to do that soon. What a great job he’s done raising his family. Tebucky Jr. is a terrific young man.

The New Britain coaching staff headed by Stan Glowiak is outstanding. Stan is a true friend. Todd Stigliano and Darwin Shaw, too.

I saw Mayor Tim Stewart walk in and provide his support. You’ve got to appreciate that he can find the time to attend the games and he’s at quite a few. Every mayor should be as sports-minded and supportive. Former principal Paul Salina rarely misses a game. He’s there with his camera, snapping photos that he’ll give to the kids. Current principal Mike Foran put in a full day at school and doesn’t have to be there, but he is … almost all the time.

The pep band and cheerleaders add to the atmosphere.

Gradually, the crowd thins out. I’m typing like a madman as the custodians clean up, roll up the bleachers and prepare the gym for Tuesday’s school day. I don’t know all their names but their work is indispensible and their kindness is greatly appreciated. The one I do know is former NBHS lineman and Northeastern grad Corey Thomas. I’d be proud to call him my son, but I don’t think that great dad of his is giving him up any time soon.

Then there was the game. It was just a great high school game, close all the way, well-officiated and extremely well-played. So many people said so as they left the gym. What a great night!

The season is still young. Many great games both at home and on the road remain. Why don’t you consider joining the family.

POWERLESS

2009-12-30T19:44:00.000-08:00

The week from Christmas through New Year’s Day traditionally has been vacation time for my wife Lisa and me.

We truly wanted to get away this year – a quiet few days at a New England bed and breakfast is our cup of holiday brew – but the economy dictated that we stay at home. We did some things around the house, bought ourselves an HD plasma TV and enjoyed each other’s company.
Then came Tuesday, with its high winds and Arctic chill.

We had a horrific incident in the neighborhood when the wind blew down a massive pine tree within sight of our house. The power lines were ripped down. The toaster oven with my leftover pizza slices (boy does Pagliacci’s of Plainville make good ones) suddenly went cold. The power went out.

We were told by the CL&P recording that normalcy would be returned in two hours. That hardly seemed likely and sure enough, it wasn’t. We were in for a long haul for the second time in three years.

The fact that modern conveniences were unavailable was nothing compared to no water and thus no plumbing to accommodate certain functions that human beings can't ignore for very long. After all, nobody has outhouses anymore. Nonetheless, we tried to rough it.

We had plenty of firewood and that’s always fun and romantic to sit in front of a blazing fire on a cold night. I puffed on my pipe and sipped some alcoholic concoctions to while away the hours, keeping in mind what our forefathers did 250 years ago. No SmartPhones back then, Virginia. Folks amused themselves with simple pleasures, glad to be warm and elated to be sharing quality time with their loved ones.

The power went off at 12:50 p.m. The sun set and wind-chill numbers became unfit for the warm-blooded. We had plans to meet another couple for dinner at Sadler’s Ordinary, a quaint spot in Marlborough. We got out of the house early, had a cup of coffee at Barnes and noble, then hit Route 2 for the ride to Sadler’s. We hoped all along that the power would be back by the time we got home, but nothing doing.

As we pulled into our neighborhood, we found the road to be closed. What lay before us looked like footage from London in 1942 after a German air attack. A utility pole had been snapped in two, leaving the transformer broken in pieces on the ground. Wires hung low. The intrepid CL&P linemen braved the numbing cold to put things back in order but we could see it would take awhile.

We circled around into Burlington and returned home. Thankfully, son Jason and his girl Brittany kept the home fires burning.

We talked, I read my stirring Humphrey Bogart biography by candlelight and the fire raged. Finally, a few minutes before 2 a.m., the lights went on. By Wednesday morning 10 a.m., we had telephone service, internet and cable TV restored. Our time of living like the Pilgrims came to a close after 12 hours.

I went around the house to make sure everything was in order and noticed the toaster oven was on. I had eaten the pizza cold (still pretty tasty) but we didn't think of turning the oven off when the power went out. If the power had been restored when we were in Marlborough, we may have come home to a smoldering pile of embers. As it turns out, we were fortunate that events transpired in the manner they did.

I’ve gotten very philosophical over the years. That, combined with my deep respect for what our forefathers had to endure, set me to reflecting on how thankful we should be for the luxuries we have.

Denied of watching more meaningless bowl games or some obscure college basketball, I picked up a book with cold fingers and read through squinting eyes. So what! We weathered the storm. We could have spent the night at my in-laws home or even at a local inn but that could have resulted in disaster, one of the worst of our lives.

Somebody was listening to our prayers, and a couple hours without TV, telephones and internet access didn't do us any harm. In fact, it did us some good.

A HALL-OF-FAME WEEKEND

2009-11-28T10:36:00.001-08:00

I wasn’t sure where my trip to sports writers’ heaven would take me but I knew where it would begin and end.

It began on the tarmac of Bradley International where my oldest and among my dearest friends stepped off his plane from Fort Myers, Fla., at about 11 a.m. Andy Vaspasiano (we call him Vas for the same reason they call me Lip) was coming home to celebrate my induction into the Connecticut High School Coaches Association Hall Of Fame.

Vas and I go back to when I was 3. I had just moved from Westville in New Haven to our new post-war ranch in Hamden on Belden Road. We’re literally friends for life.

The dinner festivities were to begin at 6. He would need some time to relax and we would need an hour before the gala to prepare.

When I asked him on the phone Wednesday night what else he’d like to accomplish in his four-day visit, I knew what he was going to say. Pepe’s. Vas, you’re in luck. Old Frank, the pizzamaker supreme, left some pretty savvy descendants in charge (including my former Helen Street Scholl buddy Francis Roselli). Pepe’s has a restaurant in Manchester now.

“Is it as good as Wooster Street?” said Vas, with his typically mysteriously and skeptical tone. Oh boy, I’d better answer this one right. Who knows more about pizza than the guy whose mom was born in Italy, a guy who went to St. John the Baptist School on the Hamden-New Haven border that literally was attached to the Venice Restaurant. Vas had to sit through classes smelling the world’s best pizza every school day.

We pulled into the parking lot and I looked down. A shiny quarter looked back at me. Now I knew my four-day dream was going to feature divine intervention.

If you haven’t had a Pepe’s pepperoni pizza yet, for God’s sake go out and get one right now. Vas says he isn’t leaving Connecticut without eating another one. He let me have my pepperoni. He got sausage and mushrooms before he boarded his return flight Sunday evening.

Our bellies bulging with pizza and hearts with nostalgia, I stopped in East Hartford to show him UConn’s new football palace, Rentschler Field. While there, we visited the CHSCA’s display of plaques.

We perused the plaques slowly. Vas saw many familiar faces from back in the day. Contemplating how absorbed he was and thinking about what was in store later that night, I became totally inspired about my induction. I would soon be joining these esteemed purveyors of state sports. Me! I still can’t believe it, but that stop at The Rent had much greater implications than I considered when we pulled off I-84. It was definitely the thing to do.

THE DINNER

Every moment at the induction dinner was heavenly. Every time I glanced in another direction, I saw another dear friend.

First and foremost, there was “The Family” – not my wife, son and sister, all of whom were with me and I love dearly, but “The Family.” There was me Vas, (former O’Brien Tech-Ansonia coach and administrator) Ray DeAngelis, John Coassin and “The Godfather,” Ron Sambrook.
We were inseparable back in the day. We were back together for the first time in 25 or so years.
There was another “Godfather” in the crowd.

Legendary Southington High baseball coach John Fontana is a driving force behind the CHSCA. When the Godfather says, “Keep your speech to 5 minutes,” well that’s exactly what you do. My first take of my speech lasted 4:45, so I added a sentence but couldn’t possibly thank all the people who I wanted to acknowledge.

I’ll do my best to do that here.

My colleagues at The Herald were there in number – sports guys Matt Straub and Ryan Pipke, executive editor Jim Smith and publisher/owner Michael Schroeder.

The coaches. Where do I begin? It all starts with New Britain High, which elicits the kind of camaraderie between coaches that I’ve never seen anywhere else.

Former football coach, now athletic director and CHSCA president Len Corto works long and hard for his school and the organization. He’s tireless, compassionate and wouldn’t he have loved to been at Pepe’s with us.

Ken Kezer, former NBHS baseball coach, was my presenter. After I made my speech, he handed me the commemorative diamond ring that all nine honorees received. Can you imagine? A diamond ring!

Basketball coach Stan Glowiak, a nicer man would be hard to find. Volleyball coach Michelle Abraham, stunning and tanned to perfection as always.

Track coach Darwin Shaw hands me a bag and says, “You ever have sweet potato pie? I never had the pleasure but I will now. As if Coach Shaw isn’t doing enough, he’s marketing his amazing version of the popular Southern confection. If you want one after your Pepe’s Pizza, I’ll put you in touch with him. (Why does it always get back to food? Not-so-small wonder.)

It touched me deeply that my Rock Cats family came in force. My dear friend Jeff Dooley, busy as he is with his full-time job and Hartford Hawks radio gig, was there. Cats owner Bill Dowling, perhaps the sincerest man on the planet, came despite suffering from the effects of the flu.
My press box buddies Larry Michaels and Ed Smith, Rock Cats photographer Buddy Robinson with his camera clicking away, Buddy’s wife Lynn. How wonderful it was to see them all.

Hamden friend Kirk Shultz came along with his parents. His father, “Big Dutch,” said he’d make it despite having to tote that oxygen tank around. His mother is my second mother. Since my mom died in 1990, she and my dear mother-in-law Fayna Birnbaum provided that irreplaceable maternal love.

I can’t mention Fayna without her husband and my father-in-law Dave. He isn’t the type to gush with emotion but his eyes told the story when he came up after the dinner and saw the ring.

Former NBHS coach Paul Majeski came up to me with a stern look on his face and said, “I want you to know that I usually don’t come to these things but for you, I came. You really deserve this award. You’ve done so much for the kids of New Britain.”

If Jerry Garcia was still alive, I’d have him lay down a guitar track for music that sweet.
And here’s the second and third stanza.

New Canaan football coach Lou Marinelli ranks as one of the state’s finest. He barely has enough fingers to contain the state championship rings and before he’s done, he may have to start using his toes.

New Canaan is way down there in Fairfield County and I’ve never had the pleasure of covering one of his teams but nonetheless, here’s what he said to me.

“I’m honored to be sharing the same stage with you tonight.”

He’s honored to be sharing the stage with me!? Here’s another, “Are you kidding me?”
After I made my speech, I was walking behind the esteemed people at the head table. Another Fairfield County legend – former Trumbull High coach and administrator Jerry McDougall – stopped me.

“That was a great speech you made,” he said as he grasped my hand. “It was from the heart.”
For those of you who couldn’t be there and would like to see the speech, here it goes:

First, I would like to congratulate the other eight honorees and thank all those who have come here tonight to support them.

I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, friendship and respect that my friends and family have bestowed on me by attending this glorious dinner in such number. I never thought so many of them could be gathered in one place in my honor, at least while I’m still alive.

What makes this award so incredibly important to me is where it comes from, the high school coaches. Coaches provide guidance for our student-athletes so they can learn the value of team dynamics, working together with their peers toward a common goal. They’re role models of the highest order.

Most of you have either coached or played so you know first-hand about the sacrifices coaching requires. The time spent with their families and in the pursuit of leisure activities are curtailed to help kids. When you consider how impressionable our kids are and how little these coaches are paid, their efforts are as noble as they are vital to our future.

I never heard that notion put more eloquently than in this very room when Geno Auriemma received a Gold Key from our CT Sports Writers’ Alliance. He dedicated his Gold Key to the high school coaches. Without them, he said, the success he’s achieved would be impossible. I consider that pretty staunch testimony.

Sports writing is not an individual application. It takes a lot of teamwork, and I’m excited to have some of my colleagues who have made this honor possible here tonight. After a story gets written, somebody has to be on the other end to format it, put it on a page and write a catchy headline, and I would like to thank those who have performed that and other functions over the years at The New Britain Herald and The Bristol Press.

I’d like to thank our publisher Michael Schroeder, who has saved both of those newspapers from the brink of oblivion so they can continue to be true partners in the communities they serve. Jim Smith, executive editor, sports editor Matt Straub and assistant Ryan Pipke. It’s all about teamwork, and that’s a great team.

Neither would this award be remotely possible without something compelling to write about. For that, I thank all the wonderful student-athletes, who have been so accommodating over the years.

When you come across former high school athletes, years removed from their days of glory, and they pull out a shredded piece of newsprint, well how can you not be touched by that. So many have gone on to become leaders in business, politics or education. I’d like to think that I had a little something to do with that.

I look out over the people here on my behalf and I see a table full of Rock Cats. They are more than friends; they are extended family. Thanks so much for being here and for what you’ve contributed to my life.

Special thanks to the people who are primarily responsible for putting me up here tonight. The New Britain High coaches are truly a special breed, and I know I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for Ken Kezer and Lenny Corto. Heartfelt thanks to John Fontana and Larry McHugh and the tremendous work they’ve done as coaches and administrators. Getting to know and work with these four gentlemen has surely enriched my life.

And where would I be without the support of my family. My wife Lisa and son Jason have been in my corner 100 percent of the time so I could keep plugging away with my labor of love that totally transcends what most would consider just a job.

Thank you, everybody, for being a part of one of the most special moments in my life.

People said it was good. That isn’t for me to say, but I crammed in most of what I wanted to say while satisfying Fontana’s Five-Minute Frontier. People say I talk too much. Geez, and they say that to my face!

I understand my Herald colleagues were timing the speech with most betting it would go into overtime. Sorry, boys, but I wasn’t going to get on Godfather Fontana’s bad side. Mr. Straub said he had to hand it to me. Thanks, Matt. Coming from you, that’s high praise.

COOPERSTOWN

On Friday, Vas, Ronnie “Samlione” Sambrook and I hopped in my Chevy Avalanche and drove to Cooperstown, N.Y., and the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

The long ride (3 ½ hours) was anything but tedious. With my two best buddies sharing stories of our glorious past and a day of baseball reminiscing, the day went by like the snap of your fingers.
Vas was into the first boutique he saw and had a Whitey Ford display scoped out. Old Vas is a lefty himself, and that combined with the interlocking NY makes Ford one of his favorites. Whitey now joins the Vas Pinstripe Hall of Fame, which occupies its own Cooperstown-like room in Bonita Springs, Fla.

Vas refused to believe Dooley when he said Joe Mauer was winning the MVP. Oh, no, it had to be Jeter. Sorry, Vas. You got the world title but former Rock Cat Joe got the MVP hardware. I told you Dooley knows these things.

Vas wasn’t finished shopping. He was piling up stuff in the Hall of Fame store, too, including a photo of opening day at the new Yankee Stadium. Ronnie and I don’t share Vas’ Yankee passion. We can’t stand ’em.

Ronnie is a longtime Orioles fan, and he’ll tell you he hasn’t smiled since Ripken was playing. He got in front of the Orioles display case at Cooperstown and you’d think he was in church.

COUPE DE GRAS AT CONFETTI

The Family – Vas, Ronnie, John Coassin, Ray DeAngelis and I – got together again for a gala dinner Saturday night at Confetti (Farmington Avenue, Route 10, Plainville), the restaurant owned by a fellow Hamdenite and Belden Road girl, Joanie Spinato-Lemniotis.

My wife Lisa and son Jason accompanied me. John’s wife Linda and Ray’s wife Liz accompanied them. Also on hand were dear friends David and Amy Dippolino, who thankfully honored me with their presence at the Hall of Fame Dinner, too.

What a great time!

Afterwards, we posed for “Family” photographs. Combined with those taken at the Hall of Fame Dinner, they are priceless and will forever populate the walls of my cozy home office.

Joanie, her husband Peter (who was Lisa’s paper boy in New Britain long before he became a talented chef, especially with fresh fish) and her brother/bartender John were gracious hosts. John Spinato and David Dippolino were best buddies growing up on Belden Road. Some of these friendships should give you an idea what it was like in Hamden’s Pine Rock region in the 1960s. There are so many more friendships that are too many to mention, and some of them continue to live on.

AND FINALLY …

The time went by too quickly. I wish every minute could have been an hour and every hour a day. Friendship, camaraderie, sincerity and love were all around. I couldn’t have imagined that something so wonderful could ever come together.

Sincerest thanks to everybody who was a part of it, and to those without whom it would have been just another Thanksgiving. Coach Kezer, Coach Fontana, Coach McHugh and Coach Corto – I’m not sure if you will ever fully realize how grateful I am.

THE NEW HAVEN ELMS

2009-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

The name resonated with me but I couldn't immediately figure out why.

Former NBA player and coach Al Cervi died Sunday at 92. His playing career happened well before I was born. His coaching career in the NBA took place in my early days of grade school.

Finally I realized that Cervi had coached an Eastern Professional Basketball League team based in New Haven called the Elms that flashed across the bow of my youth at a time when becoming a sports fan was a poignant part of my life and growth.

I remember one wonderful Saturday when I started the day working as an usher in Portal 14 at Yale Bowl and came home just in time for a neighbor to take me to the old New Haven Arena for an Elms game. The Elms were the state's very first EBL franchise.

The EBL would later become the Continental Basketball Association, which younger fans may recall had a franchise in Hartford that played in the Armory called the Connecticut Pride.

When the Elms started out, they had a pretty good team. Former Hillhouse High coach Sam Bender was their coach. Among their players were Woody Sauldsberry and Bruce Spraggins. I had never seen such outstanding players and such big men up close before. Saulsberry was picked up by the Celtics after just a few games and the Elms received veteran guard Sihugo Green in return.

Frank Keitt and Cleo Hill were dynamic guards. Former Hillhouse star Mike Branch gave the team some local flavor. So did 6-foot-8 Wayne Lawrence, who was from the New London area as I recall. Walter Byrd could leap out of the gym and Wilbert Frazier was a decent center.

Cervi later replaced Bender and inherited a team that couldn't compete having sold off its players to other teams, like the Hartford Capitals. Former two-sport star Gene Conley (Celtic forward and Red Sox pitcher) replaced Cervi the next season but the team was horrible. Attendance fell off as the novelty of having pro basketball in New Haven diminished.

Much to my delight, the team was purchased by the Bic Pen Co. of Milford and moved to Hamden. The Bics played in the Hamden High Gym. A few of my friends and I went to all the games, sat high in the bleachers, made signs and plenty of noise. The late and great New Haven Register sports writer George Wadley actually wrote a story about us.

I plied the recesses of my mind for memories and it dawned on me how deeply those days
affected me and what I was to become. The experience fired up my enthusiasm for minor league sports. In the days before the Whalers, UConn's athletic explosion and the super-saturation of sports on TV, minor league was as good as it got for fans who couldn't pick up and go to Boston or New York.

Cervi was a very small part of it but I'll never forget him. Rest in peace, Al.

THE POLITICAL GAME

2009-11-05T06:51:00.000-08:00

As a sports writer who has refined my craft by occasionally venturing out of my league, I had the recent opportunity to do an Election Night story in Southington. Delving into news not only tightens my writing style and sharpens my acumen as a reporter, but it enables me to rub elbows with folks I've met before through 18 years with the New Britain Herald and Bristol Press, in addition to some new ones.

I was assigned to cover a rather mundane school board race in which nine candidates out of the 12 nominated are elected. I positioned myself at Democratic headquarters at Machiavelli's Restaurant on Center Street and watched the returns come in as Pat Saucier, father of former All-Herald athlete Erin, entered them.

The room had been filled with the revelry that great food and camaraderie that political parties can muster, but it soon went silent. The first numbers posted gave veteran observers an immediate sense that this night would belong to the GOP.

Caught up in the Democratic defeat was school board candidate Robert Galati. I have known Bob through covering his sons, excellent athletes at Southington High, and his frequent attendance at New Britain High athletic events as a proud and supportive former teacher there.

As I prepared for my coverage Tuesday, I read The Herald’s superb Q & A forum that our news department ran for the candidates and voters. I scanned Galati's credentials and what he said. I would like to share some of that with you.

Galati is a retired math teacher, although he still teaches at Tunxis Community College. He has a BS degree in mathematics and a Masters in guidance from CCSU. When he was asked to compose his thoughts about the budget crisis tightening its grip on local issues, he expressed the following:

“Lean budgets usually mean a reduction of co-curricular programs, once called extra-curricular programs. Co-curricular programs are vital to providing all students varied opportunities to expand their experiences and knowledge in a non-academic setting. In addition, co-curricular activities allow students the chance to work with life issues. Students who participate in these types of activities have opportunities to build self-esteem, develop leadership skills, and appreciate the dynamics of being a team member.”

Elegantly put, I’d say.

If you read between the lines, he’s referring to varsity sports among the many other outstanding programs offered by our schools, most in desperate need of funding. We all feel the specter of pay-for-play lurking in the shadows, a program that is doomed to failure for among other reasons, parents paying to play expect their athletic little darlings to play. The dilemma is thus placed on the coaches, who spend an inordinate amount of time trying to craft success at very little compensation.

Well, Bob and his wife sat on the floor at Machiavelli’s as the streaming rays of light from Saucier’s projector splashed the results on the wall. Galati's mouth was agape as he watched numbers from the last of Southington’s 12 districts produce final totals.

All six Republicans were elected. Galati was fourth among the Democrats, one vote behind the third and last elected candidate. After absentee ballots were counted, he trailed by three.

Galati, a soft-spoken man, is not a lifelong politician. I’m sure he learned something about the process, and that he’ll spend plenty of time contemplating how he could have coaxed a few more votes. I’m not from Southington but if I were, I’d want a man like him protecting the interests of our youth during very trying financial times.

It makes me wonder how many voters actually read the issues. The Herald made them available both in the paper and on the website. However, races like this become popularity contests, and I’m as guilty for voting for folks in Farmington I know rather than those I do not.

In the case of Farmington, I did not see as comprehensive a package on candidates as I did in the Herald. The Herald no longer actively covers that town. But in Southington, people could have found the platforms if they were so inclined.

This isn’t to say that the people elected to the Southington board are any less competent. I had the pleasure of interviewing school board chairman Brian Goralski, who accumulated the most votes in the race. Goralski is dynamic, knowledgeable, and a passionate family man who no doubt will continue guiding this board to great things. I have no doubt that the other members also have good intentions.

Perhaps it all works out in the end, but from a personal standpoint, I’ve gotten to know a few more terrific people and I think I’ve become a better sports writer.

WIN OR LOSE, ENJOY THE RIDE

2009-10-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

A tear slipped from the corner of my right eye and trickled down my cheek.

The Twins are going to the playoffs. Right away, the eastern seaboard reverberated with the notion that they'll never beat the Yankees, but that isn't important right now.

What is important is that no fewer than 17 former New Britain Rock Cats were in that dugout when the Twins completed the improbable accomplishment of winning the division despite trailing by three games with four to play.

This gives you an idea of what kind of ballplayers we've seen go through New Britain Stadium over the years. They come out of Double-A, often unheralded like a Matt Tolbert or a Nick Blackburn, but they have that certain something that enables then to compete with the All-Star contingents that only gobs of cash can put together.

For the last 10 years, I've been with the Twins in spring training, watching what they do from low Class A to the major leagues to make baseball pundits sing the praises of how fundamentally sound they are. "They play baseball the Twins way," is what I hear from the scouts and opposing managers who visit us in New Britain.

And let me say this about the Detroit Tigers. I worked for the Tigers organization from 1986-88 and have nothing but good feelings for the organization. Their pitching coach, Rick Knapp, was the Twins' minor league pitching coordinator for years and we became good friends. They played their hearts out, battling adversity all year, and anybody who suggests they're chokers can only be classified as ignorant casual fans.

Now, let's get back to the Yankees. Everybody's talking about sweeps and easy passage into the ALCS, but let's look at it this way.

If two people go computer shopping, one with $500 and one with $10,000, who's going to get the better equipment?

If one army has senior officers who have been through many campaigns and the other is a ragtag collection of guys who the week before were plowing their fields, who's going to win the war?

Hence, if one team can sort through baseball's most developed talent and get whoever they want while the other is bringing up players who started the season in the Eastern League, who should win?

So the Yankees are going to win? Probably, but aren't they supposed to? On the other hand, they have to play the games, and you know what? The British did not win the Revolutionary War.

Whether the Twins win or lose, they're playing with house money. And for my boys who have passed through New Britain, enjoy the ride.