Brothers, Baseball, and Beer: Perfect Pat

When half your life is hanging out with your younger brother in the backyard playing Wiffle ball, why wouldn’t you make him a central character in your novel about baseball?

My brother Patrick was a pretty damn good pitcher in Little League, and I had the privilege of being his assistant coach throughout his career. When I started writing Pastime in high school, I knew I was going to base a character on him and make him do something memorable (my older brother Tom makes an appearance later in the novel as Dante’s Pony League coach).

So enjoy the tale of “Perfect Pat” while you wait for Spring Training to start. And I don’t care how cold it is, I’m going to find a way to have a catch with my brothers.

My brother Patrick during his last year on the Phillies

Little League World Series: International Championship

Italy is known for food, wine, and beautiful women, but not its baseball. That’s because their Little League team in recent years hasn’t played much better than a tee-ball team.

However, this year, the Italian team had been struck by the destiny bug and had swept their way unto the Little League World Series’ biggest stage. Two teams of destiny in one game? Which team would the baseball gods’ favor, and which would be tormented by baseball demons?

“All the hoopla crap going into that game was totally bogus. Don’t get me wrong, I’m Italian and I love Italians, but there was no way they were going to even try to beat Patrick Russell.”—Dante Cimadamore 

Both teams had more than each other to contend with. When Russell took the mound, the temperature had risen to a sweltering 97 degrees. There was a slight breeze that had, but it scalded rather than soothed. Russell showed no signs of being affected by the heat.

“I had a job to do and I wasn’t going to let a little hot weather keep me from doing it right.”—Patrick Russell 

Italy’s first batter grounded out weakly to second baseman Simon Capodi who easily scooped up the ball and threw to first base in plenty of time to get the out. The second batter whiffed on three straight pitches. The last batter of the inning hit a lazy fly ball that Tim Nix tucked away in his glove for the final out. Russell had thrown five pitches.

Italy’s pitcher Franco Vennero was no slouch. He hadn’t given up a run in the two games he’d pitched in Williamsport, and at the start of the tournament he pitched a one-hitter against powerhouse Japan. He looked to put the U.S. team of destiny to sleep from the start.

“I never saw the first three pitches he throw at me. He had to be throwing 85 m.p.h.”—John Machado 

Jeff Prince willed a bloop single down the right field line with two outs. Capodi followed with another to left. It was time for Vennero to meet Dante.

“Everyone who watched ESPN knew the kind of season he was having. I pretty much wanted to wet myself when he stepped to the plate with runners on.”—Franco Vennero 

He handled the slugger with ease. Dante hit a weak liner to the Italian shortstop who stepped on second base to double up Prince who had strayed too far off the bag. The first inning was in the books.

Russell went back to work. The heart of Italy’s lineup had done damage throughout the tournament, but left the plate with broken hearts after their first at-bats. The third batter of the inning tried to bunt one by the American pitcher, but Russell darted off the mound and made a strong through to first base. Italy had nothing to show for their six weak at-bats.

“Looking back it was tough to say who had the upper hand early on. It was a pitcher’s duel from the word go.”—U.S. coach Tom Doyle 

Vennero didn’t give the next three batters in the U.S. lineup any chances. Two strikeouts and a fly out later and the Italians were back in their dugout. The pitchers weren’t letting up and neither was the weather.

The temperature at the top half of the third inning was nearing 100 degrees. Tournament officials debated on whether to let the kids keep playing or have them take a break from the heat. Russell was on the mound throwing warm up pitches before they could rule one way or the other. The game continued and so did Russell’s dominance.

“There is no other way to put it folks, this kid from Connecticut is the real deal.”—ESPN television announcer 

Russell actually threw three balls to the first batter he faced in the third. He quickly found his focus again and blazed three straight fastballs by him. It would turn out to be the only three-ball count from either pitcher. Another strikeout followed. Dante and company headed back to their dugout after Russell left the last batter in Italy’s lineup crying for pasta.

All of the American parents thought Vennero was finally going to falter in the bottom half of the inning. All they got was three groundballs and a smile from the Italian pitcher.

“This guy, what’s his name, Franco? He wasn’t making things any easier for me.”—Patrick Russell 

Italy’s first batter the next inning became Russell’s sixth strikeout victim, and his fourth in a row. The next batter fouled out to catcher Kurt Saucier, affectionately known as Pig Pen. The last batter of the inning upped Russell’s strikeout total to seven. Vennero got Dante to hit into a nifty double play to end the bottom of the inning. It seemed the game had lasted mere minutes.

As the U.S. team trotted out the field once again, it began to dawn on them that their pitcher was unscathed. With only six more outs left in the game, the players behind Russell were 100 times more focused and serious about winning. And they didn’t say another word to Russell. Well, with one exception.

“After the fifth, I was the only one who could get away with talking to him.”—Jocelyn Nocera 

The heart of Italy’s lineup gave Russell his first scare. The crowd held its breath as it heard the high-pitched ping! emanate from the bat of Italy’s cleanup hitter. Tim Nix dove for the ball headed for the outfield, snared it in his glove, and stepped on first base.

“Let’s just say, whenever we play poker and we go up against each other on a hand, Russell always folds.”—Tim Nix 

Another Italian batter tried to bunt his way on base. Russell once again made an easy play to get the out. Three strikes latter the last batter of the inning was wearing his glove again.

Vennero was too busy trying to get outs that he didn’t realize at first what was going on. It wasn’t until the bottom of the fifth inning that he felt the electricity of the crowd reach another level. Instead of being intimidated, Vennero used the crowd noise as fuel to strike out the next two batters. Russell and Vennero exchanged smiles as Russell made his way to the batter’s box. He was a great hitter, but up to that point hadn’t done anything worth remembering with a bat that day. The crowd buzzed with anticipation that the game was about to be decided by the two kids who had so far defined it.

“Yeah, no would believe this story if it hadn’t actually happened. There’s video footage, and I still have trouble believing it.”—Dante Cimadamore 

The young competitors showed no sign of fear. Russell fouled off two pitches and eyeballed two others out of the strike zone. Russell knocked the dirt off of his cleats with his bat and stepped in to face Vennero’s next pitch.

“Here’s the pitch from young Franco Vennero…Russel takes a swing and launches one to deep center…the fielder is drifting back…the outfielder just hunched over…that ball is gone! On the verge of pitching a perfect game, Patrick Russell just gave his team a one-run lead with a monster homerun! The only thing hotter on this field is this kid from Connecticut!”—ESPN television announcer

The entire stadium was shaking. No one was sitting down, not even Italy’s cheering section. Russell stepped on home plate and was out of breath because he had run the bases so fast. Everyone low-keyed the celebration at home plate because there was still work to be done. Russell looked back to the mound and Vennero was still smiling at him. The two pitchers tipped their caps to each other and Vennero finished his near-perfect outing with a strikeout. He didn’t feel anything but pride in himself and his country as he walked off the mound to a hearty applause.

The temperature at the start of the top of the sixth pushed past 100 degrees. It seemed everyone in the crowd was pounding Gatorade. Russell looked unperturbed as always, and finished up his warm up pitches. He wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t anxious, and he wasn’t unfocused. He was ready. The first batter struck out. The crowd gasped as Russell lost his grip on a pitch and it came close to hitting the next batter. Once the batter recovered from the accidental brush back, he saw Russell mouth a silent “sorry.” Three pitches later, the batter was headed to the dugout. The next batter stepped to the plate eager to put an end to perfection.

“He had our number all day and I felt like I was going to be the one to steal his glory.”—Italian Little Leaguer 

Confidence would get the young Italian nowhere this day. Russell fired a quick strike. The next pitch beautifully caught the outside corner for strike two. If anyone was still sitting in the state of Pennsylvania, they were deaf, blind, and dumb. Russell didn’t hear any of that. His focus was on Pig Pen’ glove. It looked as big as a beanbag chair. He went into his pitching motion and fluidly threw the ball toward the plate. The batter put his head down and ripped the ball to the gap in right center.

Neither Dante nor Tim heard the other call for the ball because the crowd was so loud. The two boys collided. Dante was about to spring up and chase after the ball that undoubtedly skipped past the two outfielders when he heard Tim whisper,

“Sorry, pal. You got the homerun record, but I caught the ball that won us the Little League World Series.”

“Bastard.”—Dante Cimadamore 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Dante replied. “Oh, you might want to show the umpire you caught the ball so we can start celebrating.” Tim smiled and shoved his hand in the air. The pure white baseball was clutched in his dirty hand.

“I really could have used all the Gatorade in the park at that point. My teammates pig-piled on top of me instead.”—Patrick Russell 

The U.S. team that year started out as underdogs and ended up perfect American heroes. The players stayed on that field for as long as they could before worried officials and parents made them return to the shade. However, they would always stand in the summer sunshine of glory and their story became baseball legend. 

For more from Pastime, check out: 

• The Great Little League Homerun Race

The Great Little League Home Run Race

In 1999, I was a freshman in high school.

* Stops typing, stares off into the distance for an hour, sips scotch, resumes typing * 

I had a study hall in the band room the first semester of the year where I met a couple of friends that would make an impression on my life. The first was my dear, dear friend Jocelyn, whose name you may remember from my novel Sid Sanford LIVES! She gave up coaxing musical talent out of me and would eventually take me to her senior prom. I’m going to owe her some kind of royalty if my book ever becomes a hit.

The second was a lanky son of a bitch named Dante Cimadamore who oozed creative charisma. He wrote in my yearbook that if someone asked him to review something I wrote he’d reply with, “it gave me a stiffy.” He’s still a pretty badass musician.

The reason I’m telling you this is that I used both their names in a story I wrote that year about baseball. The story originally revolved around this washed up writer who attempts to interview an old baseball star to revive his career. However, I didn’t get very far with that premise and tried something different. I ended up writing it like it was a documentary of a baseball player so special he changed the game. The plot was broken up by quotes from characters from various periods of the ballplayer’s life. I ended up handwriting a couple hundred pages before eventually abandoning it. If I had had today’s technology, I probably would have created fake Twitter accounts, staged YouTube videos, and posted the whole thing to Tumblr.

I found the entire novel recently while looking through old files at home during the holidays and I plan to share several of the chapters throughout 2014. Some of them I ended up using in other places, including Sid Sanford LIVES! The first chapter of that novel depicts Sid and Jocelyn meeting in his backyard during a Wiffle ball game. Its structure is more or less the same as the first chapter in this faux documentary. The chapter in Sid also shares this novel’s title: Pastime.

All the back story you need to know before you read this chapter is that Dante the baseball player is in Little League and is about to have the season of his life.

The Great Little League Home Run Race

“The two things that baseball fans can’t help but watch are Little League baseball and a home run. You put both together, you got dynamite.”—Major League Baseball commissioner Thomas Russell. 

To anyone else, Dante’s first two seasons would have been cause for concern. To Dante, he was right where he wanted to be. His rookie year included a .120 batting average and 15 strikeouts. Jocelyn would never let him live it down. His offensive stats were much like the Phillies’ season: in the gutter.

“The freakin’ Chicago Cubs could have beaten us that year.”—Phillies manager Tom Doyle 

With only seven wins in 21 games, the Phillies weren’t making any postseason plans. However, the end of the season brought with it the end of an era. Five players were graduating, including several that brought about the team’s demise with their poor attitudes. Their departures not only opened the door to more talented players, but also instantly raised the morale of the team.

“With those negative attitudes, we couldn’t make any progress. When they left, there was no way anyone could stop us.”—Phillies outfielder Matt DiVenere 

Of course, the addition of the new rookies didn’t make the team a threat the following season. In rebuilding year, the boys achieved a whopping 11 victories, the highest total in team history. Dante hadn’t exactly broke out like many had expected. However, his average rose to .253 and he was becoming more and more sure handed in the field.

“If anyone was more of a sure out than me at that point, I need to meet him.”—Dante Cimadamore. 

The Phillies made the playoffs by the skin of their teeth. They had one shot to knock off the best team in the league. It was a shot that they missed.

“We were so close. We had that team running into itself. When we eventually lost the game, it only made us more hungry.”—Team mother Morgan Wauhatchee 

The players that steamy summer night tried the best they could to walk off the field with their heads held upright. Even Dante, who later in life would say he enjoyed losing in the right circumstances, felt fate had unfairly punished the team. Unbeknownst to them, fate had other plans.

Dante: 0      Tim: 0 

Opening Day.

Dante was in supreme command of his team. Something had clicked in his brain during practice making his skills seem limitless. The other players fed off of that.

“Coach Doyle taught us the game; Dante taught us heart.”—Phillies teammate Derek Jones. 

However, what was going to be Dante’s season turned out to be a town’s legacy. Another face entered Dante’s life, one that he would never be able to get rid of. It was a presence that nearly snatched away all of Dante’s dreams.

Timothy Nix had moved into town at age 12 after spending 11 years in Oklahoma. His parents were rich beyond belief. At a young age, Tim had baseball force-fed to him. The game was something that kept him out of his preoccupied parents’ hair. He went to overnight retreats, expensive camps, and indoor batting cages that all manufactured his skills.

“If I hadn’t gone to those camps, I would have driven a school bus.”—Tim Nix 

Tim’s parents Richard and Mona move to Dante’s town in order to see more of the “country.” Really what they did was take over. Richard became the owner of the paper company, while his wife ran the Board of Education with an iron fist. The only family Tim had was baseball.

“In the games he played, not once did his parents show up. If they had, Tim would have been much better than he already was.”—Orioles coach Bruce Rice 

In the opening game of the season, the highly rated Phillies squared up against the mediocre Astros. With the score knotted at three in the third inning, the ninth man in the batting order came to the plate. Dante had struck out in his first at bat with the bases loaded. He was now faced with the same situation. The fans, knowing Dante’s lack of offensive production, were more interested in the fight that had opened up among a group of teenagers. All save one.

“I knew in that moment my boy was going to come through.”—David Cimadamore 

The young, cocky Astros pitcher gave Dante a fastball right down the middle. Dante swung effortlessly and set the ball into orbit.

“I almost pissed my pants when I saw the ball go over the fence.”—Dante Cimadamore 

He would add another home run toward the end of the game, giving the Phillies an easy victory. Game one had gone the Phillies way.

Dante: 10      Tim: 6 

Through five games, the two boys had more home runs than the rest of the league combined for the last several years. Whispers started that Dante had a chance to topple the town’s record of 22.

“This competition with home runs was way bigger in town than Sammy’s and Mark’s chase in 1998.”—Phillies outfielder John Machado 

Dante’s unblemished Phillies and Tim’s balanced Orioles met that afternoon in June. It would be the first clash between these two young heroes. Eager to meet his challenger, Dante approached Tim in the visitor’s dugout.

“Are you the one who is trying to steal all my thunder?” Dante asked. At the time, Tim was a shy kid, so he just nodded and gave Dante a weak smile. “Well, I’m glad it’s someone who appreciates the game as much as me. Good luck today,” Dante said.

They were words neither player would ever forget.

“I knew about how Tim’s parents were. I knew he was missing what I had. I made sure he knew someone supported him. Unfortunately for him, that someone was me.”—Dante Cimadamore 

On that day, Tim went on to hit a record breaking four home runs. Dante had a poor showing in comparison, but the Phillies managed to pull out a win with the help of one pitcher’s arm. Patrick Russell limited the Oriole’s damage to Tim’s four homers, and delivered the game winning hit in the end.

“On a team full of winners, you never know who is going to come through for you on a daily basis. It just sort of happens.”—Tom Doyle 

Dante: 17      Tim: 15 

Where was Jocelyn in all this, you ask? When her bitterness over not making the team when she was better than all the boys faded, she accepted Coach Doyle’s offer to become the team’s official scorekeeper. She also became the team’s biggest fan.

“I don’t know who yelled louder, my mother or Jocelyn.”—Dante Cimadamore 

“I yelled the loudest.”—Jocelyn Nocera 

She rarely sat on the bench. She was too busy jumping up and down, pacing the length of the dugout, and pressing her face against the protective screen in nervous anticipation.

“I wasn’t worried about disappointing Coach Doyle as much as I was of letting Jocelyn down.”—Phillies infielder Chris Baxter 

She was there every step of the way with Dante, being his guardian angel and harshest critic in equal measure. He came to her for batting tips and fielding observations before he asked Coach Doyle.

“I went to Coach Doyle when I needed encouragement. I went to Jocelyn when I need the truth.”—Dante Cimadamore 

The Phillies had won all 17 of their games and were just four games away from becoming the first undefeated team in the town’s history. Dante and Tim’s home run race made the season 10 times more exciting. Every team got to play a game under the lights at the main field. The Phillies opponent was the scrappy Pirates team that had bounced them out of the playoffs a year ago.

The Pirates were still a team to beat and had a pitcher named Nick Lachance who made Cy Young look like a minor leaguer. With less than a handful of games remaining, the game was a must win for the Pirates if they wanted a first round bye. Dante and his teammates had other plans for them.

Right away, one could feel the momentum was anchored with the Phillies. John Machado hit a lead off home run off of Lachance’s fastest recorded pitch of the season. The boisterous crowd hushed as the ball clanged loudly against the center field scoreboard.

“Let’s just say I couldn’t do that again if I threw it up in the air to myself and hit it from the pitcher’s mound.”—John Machado 

Dante would hit two home runs of his own, leaving him four shy of the record. He watched Tim the next night belt three out of the park. Tim was now only one behind Dante. The stage had been set for a heart-stopping finish.

Dante: 21      Tim: 21 

On the final day of his final Little League season, Dante could have cared less who broke the record. He cared more about having fun and winning than anything else. After all of the pressure coming into the league and disappointment of his first two years, Dante was finally the player he wanted to be.

“Jocelyn may have lit Dante’s passion for the game, but those three Little League seasons fueled it.”—Lily Cimadamore 

If the two boys had their ways, each would tie and break the record together. They’d go into the books together. However, there were still games to be won, especially for the Phillies who needed just one victory for perfection. Tim’s team had clinched a playoff spot, but was eager to get Tim as many at-bats as possible to come out on top.

Phillies vs. Yankees: 3rd Inning 

Dante stepped to the plate, tapped the rubber with his bat, and dug in. His only thought was to get on base. Everyone wanted him to hit a home run. Dante wanted to do what was best for the team.

“If Coach Doyle had given me the bunt signal, I would have done it. Whenever I led off an inning, I knew it was my job to get on base so we had a chance at more runs. I was aware everyone wanted me to tie the record. I wanted to be like Tom Selleck at the end of Mr. Baseball and throw everyone off.”—Dante Cimadamore 

After taking two outside pitches, Dante got a pitch he could hit. He concentrated, kept his head down, and swung. The pitch landed over the fence. He had tied the record.

Orioles vs. Pirates: 1st Inning 

Tim’s first at-bat came with the bases loaded and nobody out. All those instructional camps weren’t paying off at the moment. He swung wildly at the first pitch and lunged for the second. He couldn’t get the thought of him trotting around the bases triumphantly out of his head. He had heard the crowd swell after Dante’s first dinger. That didn’t help.

“You could tell he was pretty anxious. He was dancing around the plate like Michael Flatley.”—Orioles coach Bruce Rice 

Tim would have never gotten over those nerves if something close to a miracle didn’t happen. Taking signs from the third coach, Tim caught a glance of something alien in the crowd. His mother and father were at the game! His father gave him a thumbs up. Tim wasn’t sure how to respond, so he stepped back into the batter’s box.

A couple of minutes later, Tim and Dante were tied at 22.

Phillies vs. Yankees: 5th Inning 

Huge masses of energetic kids ran from field to field, anxious to see which player would break the record first. They kept parents watching each game updated on what was happening. The town had never experienced such an intense buzz at a Little League game.

“I had more heart palpitations watching those two games than I had giving birth.”—Mother 

The Phillies entered the fifth inning contently in the lead. Dante was at the plate for what turned out to be his last at-bat. Once again, he was more concerned with getting on base than anything else.

“There is no such thing as a safe lead in Little League. We only had a 10 run lead. I would have much preferred a 20 run lead.”—Dante Cimadamore 

Calmly, he called time out and motioned for Jocelyn. She looked more nervous than he did.

“Big moment, huh?” He asked.

“You could say that,” She replied. “You wanna bet that you won’t break it?”

“No, because I’m about to. Now kiss my bat for good luck already.”

She sighed and did just that.

“See you in a minute,” She said. “Don’t hot dog around the bases.”

Dante stepped back into the batter’s box and knew instinctively that there was nothing the pitcher could throw he couldn’t hit. The Yankees’ pitcher released the ball and it began its split second journey to the plate. Dante began his stride and made contact. He was rounding the bases moments later.

“No yelling, no dancing, no arm raising, nothing. He was all business and class.”—Tom Doyle 

His teammates on the other hand were eager to celebrate at home plate. Once Dante touched the base, they mobbed him. For some reason, one of his teammates took off his helmet and hurled it up the baseline. When he emerged from the pile, he was smiling.

He knew Tim had one more at-bat.

Orioles vs. Pirates: 6th Inning 

The Phillies game ended soon after Dante’s feat. The entire congregation of fans lined the fence of the game next door to see if Tim could keep pace.

 Tim would have given anything to be an ant in Africa. He felt every eye on him.

“Just do your best, son!” His father screamed out. “We’ll be proud either way.”

For the first time, Tim believed them.

He tapped home plate with his bat and stared at the pitcher. The tension mounted as the pitcher delivered two pitches outside the strike zone. Tim took the next pitch for a strike. The count was now in his favor. Ball three then skipped past the catcher. Tim swung at the next pitch and sliced it foul. The count was now three balls and two strikes. It was baseball’s greatest stage.

“I wanted to get up there and hit the ball for him.”—Orioles coach Bruce Rice 

He never saw the next pitch. He was by him before he could get his arms moving. Before Tim could put his head down in defeat, he felt Dante’s arms around him. Dante had hopped the fence the second the umpire called strike three. He wrapped Tim in a brotherly hug.

“Have you ever had more fun?” Dante asked.

“Nope, have you?”

“Not even close. Let’s keep it going during with the All-Star team, shall we?”

“There are moments in life when you know you’ve accomplished something great. That was the first of many of those types of moments between him and I.”—Tim Nix 

Final Season Stats: 

Dante: 23 Tim: 22 

Phillies: 24-0 Regular Season & Playoff Champions

50 Pictures From My Life in Baseball

I start missing baseball intensely around this time every year.

 

I want nothing more than to grab my glove, hop on a bus home to Connecticut, and have a catch with my brothers and my nephews. That feeling grows every time the temperature drops below freezing or it snows here in Boston…which is all the time.

 

Rather than halfheartedly rooting for the New England Patriots’ playoff run to distract myself, I decided to look back at 50 pictures that define my 29 years as a devoted baseball fan (hey, I’m not 30 for another month, so pipe down). My hope is by the time I’m done reminiscing pitchers and catchers will be reporting for spring training.

 

As a good friend of mine said one winter, “There is a light at the end of the tunnel…and that light is baseball.”

 

 

1. This list starts in the same place Hardball Heart originated: my father. My baseball roots run deep because of him. Here he is with his Little League All-Star team in 1963. 12-year-old Ken Ford is the one wearing glasses. The only one.

 

2. My introduction to baseball. I’m three and a half months old in this picture.

 

3. My father and I leaning up against a fence watching my younger brother’s Little League All-Star team.

 

4. Having a catch with my younger brother Patrick. In those days, he took frequent breaks to eat a Pop-Tart. Now we take breaks for beer (see number 45).

 

5. Patrick and I played a lot of Wiffle ball in the backyard growing up. Our uncle made us a clubhouse that we turned into a Hall of Fame. Here I am next to my section.

6. Photo evidence that I was once a baseball player. I’m the last player in the first row on the right. My first coach—also my life coach/older brother Tom Ford—is standing on the far left.

 

 

7. Me in my Phantoms uniform. I was number 4 at this point. It’s hard to believe I didn’t turn out to be a good baseball player.

 

8. Oh wait, no it’s not.

 

 

9. On a cool, clear night at venerable Muzzy Field, I trotted across the field to receive the sportsmanship/most improved player award. The best part was that my older brother was the one to hand me the award.

 

 

10. This is my last moment as a baseball player. I don’t have a lot of regrets, but not playing at least one year at the next level of Pony League might be one of them. I did make $500 a summer for a couple of years keeping score for that league though.

 

 

11. I also stayed close to the game by becoming the assistant coach for Patrick’s Little League team. I almost got thrown out of a game for questioning an umpire who said he called balls and strikes based on the batter’s reaction to the pitch. This baseball will be cremated with me.

 

 

12. 2004 was my first season as the equipment manager for St. John’s Baseball. I did a lot of dopey things that year, including leaving three players at a McDonald’s in Texas, but I got to watch live baseball games in February, experience an NCAA tournament game at Stanford University’s Sunken Diamond, and stand on a table while 25 other guys sang “Happy Birthday” to me at a Golden Corral in Arkansas (it was not my birthday).

 

 

13. The pitching coach at St. John’s at the time was Scott Brown, who also happened to be the head coach of a college summer league team in Sanford, Maine. He asked if I wanted to be his media relations intern not too long after I started my tenure as equipment manager. I had two days off between the end of school and the start of the season. By summer’s end, I had seen more than 100 live baseball games in the first eight months of the year. It’s probably the most concentrated amount of baseball I’ve ever experienced. In this picture, my fellow intern Ellis and I are scoping out chicks from the press box. I wore my old Phantoms shirt underneath my Mainers shirt for good luck.  

 

 

14. My family drove all the way to New Hampshire to visit me and take in a game. Great photo bombs in this one of me and Patrick.

 

15. The best part about non-stop work, constant travel, and a permanent farmer’s tan is winning it all. I’m at the bottom of that dog pile.

 

 

16. Patrick and I in our uniforms. I was the only one of the Brothers Ford not to wear a Bristol Eastern jersey (not for lack of trying).

 

 

17. 2005 St. John’s Baseball. This team garnered 41 wins, won the Big East regular season championship, and beat a Virginia team in the NCAA tournament that featured Ryan Zimmerman. The Boston Red Sox drafted Craig Hansen in the first round that year. I ended up at a bar in Miami some time later and he was pitching. The bartender was impressed that I knew him and gave me a free drink.

18. #rings

 

 

19. Jack Kaiser Stadium at night. I got to see a lot of college ballparks, and there weren’t too many better than our home park. When they dedicated the field to the legendary coach Jack Kaiser, Bob Sheppard made all of the announcements. My chills still have chills.

 

 

20. Beating Norte Dame on national television. Is there a better feeling in sports?

 

 

21. My senior year at St. John’s. I’ll never forget making a run in the Big East tournament in Florida. We had to beat Norte Dame one more time at night to make it into the championship game, but ran out of arms. I didn’t want to leave that locker room and face the next day when I wouldn’t be the equipment manager any more.

 

 

22. Senior Night 2006. My father was adamant that he wasn’t going to step foot on the field. Yet, there he is standing right next to me in this picture. This moment probably made more of an impression on me than my actual graduation from school.

 

 

 

23. I’m holding a picture of me receiving the manager of the year award. There’s so much I want to tell this young Daniel, but, alas, I cannot.

 

 

24. Shooting the shit in front of the dugout before the start of the nationally televised game against Norte Dame. Not too many places I miss more.

 

 

25. My older brother Tom’s seats when he had weekend season tickets to the old Yankee Stadium.

 

 

26. My father and I sitting in said seats. Our heads don’t leave much room for background scenery.

27. The view of the field from those seats. The best time sitting there was during Dave Winfield day. We sat behind this group of guys that were drunk by the third inning. The unintentional comedy was off the charts, especially when they made fun of this guy who was overly excited to catch a foul ball. None of what they said is printable anywhere in the world.

 

 

28. The Brothers Ford and Pops in front of new Yankee Stadium during construction. I stopped being sad about the old place when I went to the bathroom at the new one for the first time and didn’t have to wedge myself in between 50 other (typically inebriated) gentlemen.

 

 

29. I started playing softball for the Noreasters in 2007. Not only did the team keep me rooted in the game I love, but it also provided a group of lifelong friends I don’t know what I would do without.

 

 

30. Artsy photo from my friend Scott during one of my first games. That Mainers hat had more wins in it. We went all the way to the championship game before getting beat by the Bobcats.

 

 

31.Randall’s Island, I will miss…nothing, I will miss nothing about you. But I will miss all the winning the Noreasters did there.

 

 

32. Celebrating after hitting a homerun at Roosevelt Island.

 

 

33. Back to Sunken Diamond! This was from a trip to California in 2008. I remembered to take a picture and buy a Stanford hat this time.

 

 

34. Standing in front of the old girl for one of the last times. Sniff.

 

 

35. My father in front of his hero Mickey Mantle’s number 7.

 

 

 

36. My father and I at the new Yankee Stadium. I swear, there is a great view behind those two melons.

 

 

37. Paul o’Neill autographed ball! I need to meet him in person.

 

 

38. Some Noreasters from 2011 in front of Rock Bar. Not long after this picture was taken, we were all extremely plastered.

 

 

39. A very Yankee 90th birthday. No one had the heart to tell my grandmother she was wearing a Mets hat.

 

 

40. Dan Sullivan and I before the Northeasters championship run. I played shortstop most of the year. Hey, stop laughing! It really happened!

 

 

41. Noreasters for the win!

 

 

42. A gay soccer team may or may not have helped me put this belt on.

 

 

43. My father grooming the next generation of baseball Fords. My nephew Jack is about to take a monstrous swing.

 

 

44. Notice my nephew Kevin’s Little League jersey. He plays for the same league my father played for in early 1960s.

 

 

45. Having a catch with my brothers typically involves a few beers. On days we forget to stock up, we have to make adjustments.

 

 

46. At a Red Sox game with the future Mrs. Hardball Heart. I wear my Yankees hat proudly around Boston.

 

 

47. My going away party at JCK Magazine involved a baseball bat. It may have something to do with the bottle of vodka Bill Furman is holding. Yes, it says “Balls.”

 

 

48. Before my last games as a Noreaster I made a bunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I used to make them for St. John’s for in between doubleheaders. I still got it!

 

 

49. Every time I see this picture I start plotting my commute to New York City every weekend from April to August. Then I think about the look on the future Mrs. Hardball Heart’s face. Alas.

 

 

50. “What are you thinking about?” “Tomorrow.”

 

A Complete Guide to Hardball Heart's Baseball Posts:

• First Principles, Mickey Mantle & Papa Ford
• Smells of the Game & Rouglas Odor
• Yankee Stadium: Old and New
• End Game and Baseball Brothers
• Meet the Noreasters!
• Texas Nightmare, Frank Viola and Mom
• Go Daniel Go!
• Let's Go Mets!
• Player Spotlight: Baseball Fathers
• The Lord's Prayer
• The Adventures of the Noreasters: Softball Spud and the Vow of Silence
• Every Baseball Has A Story
• Hardball Heart Guest: Hall of Fame Trapper & GM of the NECBL Sanford Mainers Neil Olson
• Preview of Sid Sanford Lives Chapter One-Pastime Part 1
• Baseball Beginnings: Why I’m Not a Baseball Player
• Brothers, Baseball, and Beer: The Art of Playing Catch
• The Adventures of the Noreasters: Three in the Heat
• Baseball Beginnings: On Derek Jeter
• Little Leaguers: First Catch
• The Adventures of the Noreasters: Champs!
• 15 Cool Photos From Back Home in Connecticut
• High School Graduation Speech: 10 Years Later
• A Connecticut Yankee in David Ortiz’s Court