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| Sean Doremus is carried off by Tony Izzo and Mike Fassano |
"The show... " grumbles Coach Tomaro dropping his Philly Blunt to the edge of a puddle and hopping back onto the neatly mowed grass, "...must go on."
"Jeez Coach," chides the policeman turned field crew shaking his head side-to-side as bluish-orange flames flicker along the base path.
An errant cloud had drenched the field two hours before the first semifinal game on a mid-August Friday. That Little League season, normally done by mid-June, had ambled into late summer's frequent thunderstorms along the coastal plain of central New Jersey.
The John F. Kennedy Memorial Field at the corner of Tea Street and Route 28, where now stands a Shop-Rite grocery tucked into a former bend in the Middle Brook, had been meticulously prepared for the town's first hosting of the state finals. Bleachers, normally confined to the first and third base infield, now bordered the fence along the foul lines and the outfield. The small snack shed behind home plate had been expanded with a line of grills on one side and iced barrels of drinks on the other. Rows of blue and white porta-potties were stationed behind the nearby firehouse, and a fancy electronic scoreboard had replaced the old wooden and cardboard display beside right field. It was a huge and expensive community effort that involved coaches, parents, borough personnel, and community volunteers.
We were opening the single elimination tournament against New Milford North, and it was our first game of the entire post-season against a similarly sized town. The prosperous Bergen County borough, better known for football all-American and new Minnesota Viking Ed Marinaro, was actually twice the size, population, and average income of Bound Brook, but it supported two Little League teams to make it a relatively matched contest.
"Hey Sean, hey Sean, keep it down, keep it down," I chatter from shortstop as he takes the stretch position, glances at the runners on second and first base, and delivers a wicked slider that cuts over the strike zone.
New Milford is threatening a comeback in the top of the sixth inning after we thought they'd been put away in the fourth by home runs from Tony Izzo and Mike Fassano.
"Thwack," vibrates across the field with a hard bouncer up the middle as I lunge and miss it near second base.
"Shit," I hiss, turning to follow the ball and finding our second baseman back-handing it in shallow center field.
In a slow-motion instant Eric Winchock flips the ball behind his back and I grab it bare-handed, brush the bag with my right foot, and whip it to first.
"You're out," screams the umpire as the Bound Brook crowd erupts at the game-ending play.
"Way to go boys!" marvels league president Ed Gabrielski as we carry our winning pitcher off the field.
Final score: Bound Brook 11, New Milford North 8
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