Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Going Down to Lucky Town

 

For nigh unto 20 years, Bruce Springsteen shows have taken on a new temperature and significance, ever since I introduced my son Andrew to the Jersey Devil.  On almost two dozen occasions in five different states, we've enjoyed a father/son tandem to take in the concerts and they've provided me with indelible parenting memories - amplified, I might add, when my daughter Heather took in her FIRST Bruce show last August, making it a full family affair.

Springsteen shows have always been a gathering of family,  both real and assumed.  My brother took me to my first Springsteen concert 44 years ago, and I have tried to help indoctrinate others to the E Street magic in the ensuing decades.  Us E Streeters proper have taken in hundreds of shows between us, forming our own Band of Brothers in the process.  And in Andrew's case, a music aficionado in his own right (including an acolyte of the current Beatlemania-level frenzy that is Taylor Swift), he's come to appreciate the deep catalogue of Springsteen music and the indefatigable energy that permeates the 3-4 hour concert extravaganzas.

Which brings us to our latest father-son pilgrimage, this time to Mohegan Sun in Uncasville, Connecticut ( a place where, by the way, Bruce proudly exclaimed he had no idea where the #$%& it was).

Surrounded by all the trappings of a casino, we had a feeling we were going to be treated to some of Bruce's gambling related songs (we weren't wrong), so Andrew thought it would be appropriate to contribute to the local economy.
Alas, no Golden Ticket awaited Charlie at the end of this factory tour.
Connected with fellow Springsteen aficionado Ken and Breena Gordon.  Ken's been following the Boss around the country - and world - for round about the same amount of years as me.
Ahead of the show, we were able to make a pitstop in the vaunted E Street Lounge. 
And just like Vegas, what happens in the E Street Lounge stays in the E Street Lounge.
Finally, we made it to our seats, and since the venue was quite warm, it was time to break out official E Streeters Running Club Swag.
And with that, we were off, and sure enough, Bruce opened the set with Roll of the Dice off his 1992 Human Touch Album
Well I've been a losin' gambler
Just throwin' snake eyes
Oh love ain't got me downhearted
I know up around the corner lies
My fool's paradise
In just another roll of the dice
Followed immediately by Lucky Town, from the self-named album of the same stretch of time in 1992 - which also happened to be the year I married the love of my life (and saw Bruce perform in Worcester the night before our wedding to boot!)
I'm going down to Lucky Town, down to Lucky Town
I'm gonna lose these blues I've found down in Lucky Town
Baby down in Lucky Town
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night.  You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're alright.
Oh, and that's alright with me.  Thunder Road, indeed.
The lights came on for the raucous encores, headlined by Bruce's anthemic and unforgettable trademark song, which just happened to be emblazoned on the back of my shirt as well.
No, I'm not yelling at my son, we're just joined our voices with thousands of others to belt out one of the greatest rock and roll songs of all time.
It wasn't a pretty little place in Southern California, but Ken and I were still celebrating Rosie Coming Out Tonight - you can hear them in the back room strumming
There's something to be said about the zenith of every show when the house lights shatter the darkness and explosively reveal arena contents during Born to Run, and you can absorb the frenzied euphoria of the crowd in its entirety.
It works on so many levels, and feels like the train's come roaring round the bend.
Out in the middle of the crowd, Bruce is getting hit with a 10th Avenue Freezeout courtesy of the 9,000 in attendance.
The change was made uptown, and the Big Man joined the band, as well as the show, during a photo feature spotlighting Clarence Clemons and Danny Federici, the two deceased veterans of the E Street Band.
Good night to the E Street Band's consigliore Little Steven, Professor Roy Bittan, and Mister Gary W. Tallent.
The Boss himself was the last to make an exit
And finally, you know it had to happen.
Bruce has been ending every show on this tour with the song I'll See You In My Dreams.
Not sure he was referring to dreams about donuts, but t's safe to say it can also serve as an appropriate final note for Andrew as well, as waiting outside the venue for us was a certain donut shop not found in our region.  A dozen sinkers may or may not have come home with the lad.
Not sure when the next father-son Springsteen outing will take place, as Bruce is jetting off now to Europe and doesn't have any East Coast tour dates schedule for the near future.  But you can be sure that when the opportunity does present itself, this tandem will be taking full advantage of any opportunity we get to share the experience!


Wednesday, April 17, 2024

30 + 30 - the Walk of Fame

Walk on by (Don't stop)
Walk on by (Don't stop)
Walk on by (Don't stop)

- Dionne Warwick

Throughout the annals of time, certain sporting events rank among the most famous, unforgettable and epic battles that have ever unfolded on the playing fields, ice, or rings of history.

The 1980 Miracle on Ice.

The 2004 Red Sox comeback.

Frazier vs. Ali.

Billie Jean King vs. Bobby Riggs.

The 28-3 Falcons Super Bowl premature drubbing of the New England Patriots.

The Strawberry Hill little league baseball championship.

What’s that?  You say you don’t know about Strawberry Hill?

Then man, are you in for a treat.

If you’ve ever had the unique experience of running, walking, or just hanging out with our crazy band of runners, known collectively as the E Streeters, it’s something that tends to stay with you.  An assorted band of brothers and sisters, we first came together as basketball and volleyball teams fresh out of high school in the 1980s, and we’ve stuck together, and then started running together in groups on weekends for more than three decades, give or take a year.

Walk on, walk on
What you got they can't steal it
No, they can't even feel it
Walk on, walk on

Walk On
- U2

The runs are usually loaded with inappropriate jokes to help pass the time.  Over the years, we’ve seen our numbers include dozens of different participants, from all walks, genders, ages, and talent levels.

And sometimes, during those runs, the stories that unfold in the midst of the mileage reach epic proportions.

Such is the case of the 1976 Strawberry Hill baseball championship, when a 12-year-old Chelmsford lad named John Piekos carried the weight of the collective Chelmsford baseball world on his shoulders as his team the Mets played the Bears for the title.


His mother Anne, says she has a hard time remembering the specifics of that day.  Likely because the ensuing years provided so many more athletic exploits among her offspring.

His sister, Anne Marie, believes she was the bat girl for the team.  But she too, seems to have blotted out the event.

Barry Scanlon, the preeminent sports writer in the Greater Lowell region, considers the legend one of the greatest he’s covered in his long and storied journalistic career.

And John himself?  Well, he’s too modest to discuss it, but might grudgingly recount some of the details with you if you’re fortunate enough to pass the North Chelmsford field during one of the morning runs that wind through that neck of the woods.  Heck, he'll even share his Glory Days version of the event if you just want to talk baseball anywhere!


It's a scenario every baseball player dreams about being in - getting up to bat in the bottom of the last inning, the score tied, two outs, and the game comes down to you.  All you need is a single and your team wins the championship

It's gonna be a long walk home
Hey pretty darling, don't wait up for me
Gonna be a long walk home
A long walk home

- Long Walk Home, Bruce Springsteen

Today, that Chelmsford baseball legend, John Piekos, enters a new decade of life.


So on behalf of E Streeters near and far, best wishes for a happy birthday today to John, immortalized here with a poetic recounting of the most dramatic four pitches in baseball history, leading to a championship victory, and likely, some form of trophy, also lost to the ravages of time.  Every word of this is true, or so John would lead us to believe.

Presented, for your enjoyment, Piekos at the Bat.


The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Chelmsford Mets that day:
The game was the last this collective team would play.
The score was tied at four, the game was ending fast,
Two outs already recorded, who would make the last?
The all-star second baseman, John Piekos was his name,
He meandered to the plate and silence fell upon the game.

A straggling few got up to leave in deep despair, hands clutched against their chests.
John’s father, coaching third, clung to hope inside his breast;

John’s sister Anne Marie, a gymnastic pro on the mat,
She and her mom Anne gasped “oh God, it’s Johnny’s turn to bat.”

The bases, they were loaded, 'twas nowhere for John to go;
He sauntered to the plate, his tiny bat in tow.

The fans got to their feet, there was nobody could sit.
His team would win the championship if John could just manage a hit.

From all the gathered throats there was heard a nervous mix,

It rumbled through the valley, in that 1976.
It pounded Strawberry Hill ballfield and recoiled upon the flat,
They could only stand in dread, for it was young John Piekos, advancing with his bat.

There was ease in young John’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Johnny’s bearing but no smile upon his face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
Many watching from the crowd asked can John even hold the bat?

Ten thousand Bears eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
The Mets fans, they applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Johnny’s eye, a sneer curled on his lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Johnny stood a-watching it, he seemed to barely care. 
Close by the sturdy batsman’s head the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my pitch," said John.  "BALL ONE!" the brave umpire said.

From the benches, filled with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone from the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had John not raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity little Johnny’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the round sphere flew;
And Johnny, he ignored it and the umpire screamed, "BALL TWO!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echoes answered "Fraud!"
One determined look from Johnny and the audience said “Dear God.”
They saw his face grow tense and cold, they saw his trembling knee,
He stood there like a statue as the umpire yelled “BALL THREE!”

The sneer was gone from Johnny’s lips, his teeth were clenched in hate,
He pounded with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And then the pitcher palmed the ball, and quickly let it go,
The Chelmsford air was placid with the lack of Johnny’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in that Chelmsford town the sun was shining bright,
A band was playing somewhere, it really was a sight; 
Bears parents they weren’t laughing, in fact they couldn’t talk;
Four straight balls were thrown in Chelmsford — John Piekos drew a walk.

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Fresh Turkeys

A few weeks back, during a momentous and love-packed wedding ceremony, the references flew fast and furiously, welcoming Heather's husband Ryan into a family that celebrates special holidays with an early morning 5K.  For his part, Ryan admirably offered up some nervous but brave laughs every time the reference was made.

It took less than a month for him to realize this was really a thing.

The turkeys were let loose again in Westford this 2023 Thanksgiving morning, and the ever-expanding cast of characters grew by another two this year, with Ryan and my brother Jimmy adding their pitter patter to the early morning footfalls.


Kudos to the Paternell family of Westford who opens their home, street and neighborhood to welcome dozens of runners and walkers into the Lake Nabnassett area on Thanksgiving morning.  The family collects food items for the local food pantry as the race entry.

A bit slick on the roadways to get things started, but runners and walkers persevered through icy conditions to create another bank of laughs and great memories.

Westford guest star John Piekos returned to his running roots - the streets where many a mile was logged in the earliest days of E Streeter group runs - home of the classic Lake Run, in fact.

Not surprisingly, Haley Lemay continued to crush the opposition, scaling the course's biggest hill without even losing a breath
Followed VERY closely behind her sisters, Addy and Brook, who ran the course in tandem
Throughout the course, Jimmy returned to shades of his running form from his days at Keith Academy High School in Lowell.
(Ryan wasn't taking the bait - YET.)
Chris and Brianne Lemay ran, as they always do, step for step with one another, with proud papa cheering them on
Chewie made his return to the course.  Regular readers of the blog may recall last year's Thanksgiving 5K on this course was Chewie's first official race entry.
Today, the Turkey Trot veteran waited patiently for his family so he could show them the proper course to follow.
Image presented without comment
In fact, there were quite a few turkeys to be found out there today.  Special shoutout to Katie who found an adrenaline burst mid-course and picked up her tempo!
And then came the unforgettable finish.
Thankfully there was plenty of paparazzi there to chronicle the moment for history.
With throngs of supporters raucously cheering them in, Jimmy and Ryan completed their first ever Thanksgiving 5K!
Can't say enough about the pair of them joining the fray.
Can't you just hear the Chariots of Fire theme song playing in the background?
And kudos also to the rest of the clan, including Jackie, Heather, Andrew and Katie who answered the early bell and bundled up for this year's outing!
Haley once again claimed the coveted brussell sprouts prize for her award-winning placement!

Silly faces all around for Andrew and Harper
Heading back to their cars, the two newest Turkey Day 5K converts have mixed reactions when asked about their next 5K conquest.
Once again, giving copious thanks for being able to blog about these types of exploits every Thanksgiving.  And once again, thankful we're all still healthy enough to do so.  There have been more than a few health scares up and down the collective ranks over the course of the last year, but we're all still here and all still cheerfully forging ahead.
Thankful for our extended and growing family, thankful for friendships that have spanned decades and logged thousands of miles together, thankful to watch offspring blazing their own familial trails, and thankful for a life partner who makes it all feel effortless.
Yeah, giving thanks in abundance.

Saturday, September 9, 2023

When a Friendship is Golden

September, 1973 - 50 years ago, and there was a lot going on across the Big Blue Marble.  Star Trek the Animated Series was making its television debut.  Hank Aaron was busy making baseball home run history.  Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in the tennis Battle of the Sexes. Barbra Streisand released the Way We Were single (which went on to become the Billboard Single of the Year.)  And at St. Margaret's School where I was starting the fourth grade, I bumped into a new kid, a transfer in from St. Patrick's School, one of the city of Lowell's other Catholic Schools.

That was when I first met Mike Cassidy.

Interestingly, St. Margaret's split its classes in two - A and B, and Mike and I were never officially in the same class there, likely because the nuns knew the volatility of the combination were we to be paired up in the same room.

But somehow, me and this kid from Foster Street - another Highlands boy, me, hailing from D Street, connected and became fast - and, as it turned out - lifelong friends.

And anyone who knows anything about either of us won't be shocked to learn it was comic books that brought us together.

At that young age of 9, I was primarily a Marvel Comics fan, though I did dabble in a decent smattering of DC Comics.  And Mike was primarily a DC guy, with Batman topping his buy list.  I still remember some of the first comics I know Mike owned that I didn't, and thankfully, this was in the day when you traded comics back and forth to read.



I offer up all of that background, because in the ensuing years, those two comic book geeks have remained friends, and to this day, are still hanging in there, through FIVE DECADES of shared memories, including way, way, way too many that should never see print, and certainly won't in this blog.

We've travelled back and forth across the United States together, were Best Men in one another's weddings, have raised our children together, and attended more than a hundred rock concerts together, many of them being not surprisingly, Bruce Springsteen shows.

Wonder Bread super-hero cards, Looney Tunes jelly jars?  3D baseball cards in cereal boxes?  We collected and experienced them together.


Our parents, especially our Irish fathers, used to jokingly refer to us as "Pat and Mike," which apparently hearkened back to two blokes from an Irish joke tandem, though the references were usually lost on us.

Mike and I would finish grades 4-8 together, continuing to make new memories along the way,  likedoling out Star Wars calendars and suffering together through the Sgt. Pepper's remake movie featuring the Bee Gees.

And then it was on to high school and a lot of Hiding on the BackStreets.
This time, the nuns didn't know enough to keep us in different classes, though they did learn quickly, separating us our sophomore and junior years.
Senior Year Field Day captains, rocking our Springsteen tees and realizing one of Sister Theresa's worst nightmares - having to pose for a picture with Mike and I.
The circle of friends started to expand, and the likes of Tom Beaupre, Tommy and Barry Scanlon, Scott Spence and John Piekos joined the mix, creating, literally the OG E Streeters pack of friends, who made their bones breaking hearts and tearing up the volleyball and basketball courts at UMass Lowell, where Mike and I would once again reunite in the halls of kinda-learning.
There were literally dozens upon dozens of other friends drawn into this ever-expanding circle through the ensuing decades.  Some we've lost to geography, some to death, some to the evolution of relationships that just naturally take people along different paths in their lives.
So how does one encapsulate five decades of friendship?  It's impossible.  Period.
But hopefully this quick peppering of images from throughout those years will give folks some insight into the kinds of shared experiences that go into charting a friendship for the ages.
Unforgettable memories, like cutting classes to party at Boston Celtics championship rallies, where Mike could capture an epic picture of me shaking Kevin McHale's hand.
Or busting out of class to wait in line for Springsteen tickets.

The Summer of '87 sent us off on a month-long, No Surrender coming-of-age 10,000 mile voyage from coast-to-coast.  On the Road along the way, we followed the Celtics through their championship series against the Los Angeles Lakers, culminating in a life-and-death situation where we fled the LA Forum for our lives in my feeble red Renault Encore.
But we also managed to check in at some epic national treasures.
Meeting down at the Cadillac Ranch
Grand Canyon climbers
Yosemite Sams
Grand again, this time, at the Tetons
Five years later, August 15, 1992, and he stood up for me at my wedding, just a few weeks after throwing together an unforgettable bachelor party trip to see Springsteen at the Meadowlands. 
Yes, we were those fathers guilty of the adorable babies Halloween pics, too
In the ensuing years, as we both began our families, career paths would place us a few doors away from one another, Mike working at the Lowell Fire Department, me at the Lowell Police Department.
And apparently both of us could wear racing singlets three sizes too large.

As you can see, we continued to stand up for one another as we shared any number of life events, including sports banquets for our children at Lowell High School
Occasionally, there was a broccoli vegetable tray that went awry at some of the kids' birthday celebrations.  The less said about those, the better, but they might explain Mike's smile here.
We got hammered together on many occasions.  But in the end, I feel like we were worthy.
Comic books stayed in the background throughout the half century tapestry of friendship, with more than a few trips together into comic conventions or local comic shops.

We even ended up together on the cover of an issue of the amazing Spider-Man.
Yeah, we fancied ourselves Agents of Shield
We swore blood brothers against the wind, Springsteen tailgate colleagues
Almost annually, there were meet-ups at the home of twenty-five cent hotdogs every holiday season in Newburyport
Sometimes, the birthday celebrations were our own
As youths, we envisioned ourselves becoming masked heroes in our latter years.  Little did we know.
The guy who helped bring us together over common ground back in 1973 would make his return
We've walked and run many a mile Racing in the Streets along the same pathways
Japanese steak houses?  We've done 'em
And of course, we've shared many a memory at the Lowell Folk Festivals.
Especially when it comes to the Polish pierogies, an ethnic treat Mike introduced me to early on thanks to his Polish grandparents.
Which brings us to the present, and lo, another Springsteen tailgate, this most recent one at Gillette Stadium just last month.  
Time has taken its toll on each of us, as it inevitably does to all of us.  There's been lots of changes along those five decades of history.  Both of us have lost our parents along the way.  We've been there for one another through some of the worst of times, yes, but unquestionably, also some of the best.
It's rare that anything lasts a half century these days, especially a grammar school friendship when so many differing pathways emerge to divert one in different directions.
Yet somehow, all those roads still lead to the same Backstreets, and the courses of our lives continue to flow along common roads.
And in the end, we became living proof that the Marvel and DC universes could join together successfully, and a pair of Highlands kids joined by their common interest in comic books found a way to forge a friendship that has stood the test of time.
And will for many years still to come.

We played king of the mountain out on the end
The world come charging up the hill, and we were women and men
Now there's so much that time, time and memory fade away
We got our own roads to ride and chances we got to take
We stood side by side each one fighting for the other
And we said until we died we'd always be blood brothers
- Blood Brothers, by Bruce Springsteen