No Sleep Till Brooklyn, or Albany Either!

Roundabout last fall, a fearsome foursome united for a road trip to Brooklyn to catch one of the many live performances last season of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

The trip included, among other notable events, a Bed, Bath and Beyond pilgrimage, another field test for acrophobia, a United Nations moment with Barcelona, some relocated parking garages, and of course, a healthy dose of inappropriate references to concerts of days gone by.

Flash forward to April, 2024, and it was time for the same foursome to return to the Empire State, this time making a stop it its capital, Albany.

So it was that John Piekos, Barry Scanlon and I recruited the original Boss boss, my brother Jimmy, to return with us for another outing of New York Style Springsteen.

After some robust discussions en route about apostolic blessings, chivalry and oversized pocketbooks, and of course, the obligatory deadly pocket knife, we embarked on a sojourn through the streets of Albany looking for someplace to dine.

Despite getting shut out at Stop One by the wait times of the advertised gathering of Spring-nuts, the Bruce enthusiasts who gather pre-show for all of his concerts, we would not be thwarted.

We made the rounds at several of the local watering homes before settling in at Wizard Burgers, home of the impossible to eat without making inappropriate comments impossible burgers.

Case in point: commenting on another patron's burrito size is not considered a universally-embraced ice breaker, no matter how many miles they swim in a triathlon.

After not properly digesting a healthy meal, we were off to check out the local architecture.

When in Albany, you have to visit the Egg, an approximately 50-year-old performing arts center.

As luck would have it, the gentleman we asked to take this album cover pic professed to be especially familiar with some of the political figures who've made their mark in Lowell's political circle.

Photog pro tip: know your audience before you name drop your rolodex and offer your thoughts on said individuals.

From there, it was showtime in the MVP Arena for an unforgettable night that added several tracks that diverted from the previous setlist at Mohegan Sun (see previous blog post.)

For this writer, undoubtedly, the highlight of the night was a haunting version of Racing in the Streets, one of my fave Springsteen cuts, taken from his fourth album, Darkness on the Edge of Town.

As always, the night provided a more than ample amount of opportunities to sing along with the soundtrack of our shared experiences.

As I said - an AMPLE amount of opportunities.

If there's something you need

That you just don't have

Well just don't sit there

Feeling Bad

C'mon now get up, try and understand,

Just raise your hand!

Once more unto the breach, or in this case, center arena for Bruce's 10th Avenue Freezeout.

Super shoutout to Susan Strauss, standing at Springsteen shin-level, smackdab in the center of that throng, basking in the Bruce-ness of it all

Heading into the homestretch, it was time for the two bros who took in their first Bruce show together 44 years ago do some Twisting and Shouting.  Or a variation thereof.

And that's a wrap in Albany!

Take a bow, band, and thanks for another packet of great U.S. shows.

The band's off for its European tour now, and this particular four-pack will have to wait until the other end of 2024 to take in another celebration with the E Street Band!

Montreal, anyone?

 

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!

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.