I see where the children’s show Sesame Street celebrated their 40th birthday yesterday;  Happy Birthday to them.

Sesame Street is by one of the most popular, if not the greatest children’s show of all-time.

(Courtesy of WSKG.org)

To this day I can still pass it while I do a search on TV looking for a sports program.  My 10 year old daughter used to watch it all the time.

The overall consensus seems to have Elmo as the favorite; do you recall just a few years ago all the craze for the ‘Elmo Doll’? People were going bananas for the furry talking, red-critter.

Most of the show has stayed the same; Oscar is still grouchy and Big Bird who stands 8′2″ is still the tallest bird around (wonder if he ever dunked a basketball?) There’s Kermit the Frog, Bert and Ernie, Snuffleupagus, Count Von Count, The Cookie Monster and my main man Mr. Noodle.

Happy Birthday Sesame Street!

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m on Facebook and you can follow me on Twitter @CoachFinamore

I don’t know about you, but I get all ‘nostalgic’ deep inside when I hear from someone I grew up with from the neighborhood.  I guess that’s why I started this blog a little over two years ago; I missed my friends and the memories.  (I relocated to East Lansing, Michigan in 1996. Despite what people may say, I’m not in the Witness Protection Program) As I climb the ladder of life (45 years young), I often think back to the experiences that helped shape who I am today.

Whether it’s a surprising e-mail from an old friend, a person asking me to accept a friend request on Facebook, or if someone happens to stumble upon the Container Diaries blog; and leaves a comment, it always brings a smile to my face, not to mention a warm feeling. (Yeah, that’s right, I said a warm feeling).

Catching up with friends I grew up with in the neighborhood is such a wonderful feeling; especially when it’s been over 30 years since I last spoke to that person. Hearing about how they are doing, how many kids they have, and of course their marital status. (Whoever thought they were going to get married while we were hanging out on 9th avenue or in the schoolyard?) Plus, how come no one ever told us how life was going to be in our 30’s, 40’s and 50’s? Shit, come to think of it, I’m still trying to figure out this game they call ‘life’.

It’s an amazing experience hearing from people who I made my first communion with in the 2nd grade at Holy Name.  Hearing from people I argued with while playing slapball in Holy Name schoolyard and of course, people I spent a lot of time with in my teens and early 20’s.  Three different stages of my life; people I lost touch with, but never forgot about them.

Brother Luck was on my side over those years to be able to share good and bad times on a daily basis with great people.  Whether it was hanging out in Candy World on 9th avenue, playing basketball in the Boys schoolyard, flag football in Prospect Park on Sunday mornings, sitting in the back of Joe’s Pizza nursing a slice and a coke or playing basketball down East 5th street.

For all that know me, I was very passionate about sports.  Basketball was my favorite activity. I wasn’t good enough to make it to the NBA (my dream), and my playing career didn’t last very long in high school (7 games at John Jay). But I played all the time.  I went to so many places to play with different kids all over the city.  I took the train to Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens and even drove over the Bridge to Staten Island to play at Cromwell on Saturday mornings.  I played ball down at the 9th street YMCA with guys from 5th and 7th avenue.  I played in 51’s schoolyard on 5th avenue with guys from Park Slope and I also played in 230 park with some Mexican kids who befriended me as soon as they saw how much I loved to play.

Basketball connected me with a lot of people; it was a sturdy bridge that I built over time. The orange roundball helped me form numerous friendships.  This mis-guided, insecure, angry, and envious teen was going with the flow for so many years; no direction, no goals, probably many thought, no chance. All I had was friends and basketball. Little did anyone know that things would turn out o.k. later on in life when I finally “got it.” (Thank you Mary Hogan, the most inspirational human being I ever came in contact with)

Facebook has brought me so much joy (as has this blog). I find myself checking them often (maybe too often). All the people who I have reconnected with through these two outlets have helped me look back at life and try to get a better understanding of who I was, where I’ve been and where I’m headed.  I’ve connected with guys and girls I haven’t spoken to in many years. I’ve connected with guys and gals who I knew from saying hello around the neighborhood but never really had any kind of relationship with and of course there are the people who I always wanted to become friends with but just didn’t know how to.  (Chalk that up to immaturity)

Big shout out to technology for helping me connect with the following: Alex McNeil, Teesha, Doris Bullock, Karen Artz, Liz Peterson from Prospect Avenue, Mary Kawas, Corrado, Paulie Ramos, Richie Ferraiolo, Frankie Lakat, Jerry Cole, Jimmy Vackner, Jimmy Cullen, (A.K.A., Spoony J), Rosemarie Taliercio, Fiore Tierno, Kevin Mahoney, Chris Johnson and many more.

Some of you know that I am currently writing a book (Miss Monzillo is probably so proud of me, I know I was one of her favorites). It’s a novel based on my life as a teenager.  Some of the stories and characters will be familiar and some will not. I spent a lot of time with many different people; I guess chalk that one up to my ability to make new friends.

I’ve been fortunate over the years to have a couple of close friends who I keep in touch with on a daily basis like Glen Thomas of Sherman Street. It’s a great feeling knowing that all those years we spent together that to this day I can still pick the phone up and give him a call. (Not to mention a chat on FB) Ask yourself “how many people do you still talk with that you grew up with”?  I think it’s important to reach out to that certain someone you spent a lot of time with; it brings back so many fabulous memories. Plus, maybe someone is going through a crisis and hearing from you may lift them up or even bring a much needed smile to their face.

Facebook and Container Diaries are two great avenues to get in touch with a friend from the past.  Sign up now and search for someone’s name. (be careful what you tell that certain someone who you had a crush on at 12 years old) Check out the comments section after each blog entry here at Container Diaries and if you recognize someone posting a comment, reach out to that person. Why just the other day Sister Barbara formerly of H.N.S. left a comment on the blog; you remember Sister Barbara, dont you? She was the ‘friendly’ nun who DIDN”T wear Rosary beads around her neck.

Catch up with someone from back in the day, it’ll do wonders for you…

“This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no foolin’ around.  This ain’t the Mud Club, or CBGB’s, I ain’t got time for that now…”

-The Talking Heads, Life During Wartime

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

Catch me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @CoachFinamore

Thanks to a regular contributor and loyal reader of Container Diaries for sending the following information on a great event:

The annual Vinnie Brunton Dinner is Saturday, Nov. 7th at Bishop Ford High School. 500 19th Street, Brooklyn, New York 11215.

$70.00 – includes food, drink and music, it is always a good time.  There is a 50/50 and the proceeds fund the Vinnie Brunton Scholarship to Bishop Ford.

As we all know, Vinny worked for the FDNY and was one of the best! He lost his life during the bombing of the World Trade Center on 9/11.  If anyone has any more information on this event, please pass it along. We would also love to see any pictures from the event and post them on the blog.

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Thank you to all the people who left a comment on the blog and who e-mailed me on the last blog entry titled, ‘Treat Her Like a Lady’.  Like I stated at the beginning, it was a difficult decision to write it.  I received incredible feedback, comments, thoughts, observations and most importantly, thanks.  But like everything in life, you will always have people who disagree with you.  That’s fine.  But the one thing people need to realize is this is what makes life enjoyable and productive; the ability to express yourself and to debate the issue.  We can all agree that domestic abuse is a delicate situation, but in my eyes, it needs to be addressed.  One reader suggested that it was disrespectful towards my mother, I beg to differ.  I, in no way intended for it to be a shot at her.  The same reader also said my mother would’ve been upset at the entry, again, I beg to differ.  I know she would’ve loved it and would’ve said to me, “He was a scumbag”. Just like she said about most of the men in her life.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m on Facebook and you can also follow me on Twitter @CoachFinamore

Composing this blog entry was not easy.  I wavered back and forth all morning whether I should take the time to write about a sensitive, private, but disturbing issue…Screw it, I decided to go forward with it!

I watched an episode of Outside the Lines on ESPN Sunday morning.  The main topic was football coach of the Oakland Raiders, Tom Cable accused by his former assistant coach of assault.  The story also included Cable being abusive towards females in his life; a former wife and a recent girlfriend.

“From my blind side, Tom Cable threw me from my chair and into a piece of furniture that a lamp sat upon,” Hanson told Yahoo! Sports of the alleged Aug. 5 incident. “He was screaming, ‘I’ll [expletive] kill you! I’ll [expletive] kill you!’ And I have no reason to believe he wouldn’t have killed me if they hadn’t pulled him away.

“If my head would’ve hit a different way, I might be dead right now.”

That was the assistant coach on ESPN.com

This disturbing subject (Domestic Abuse) brought me back to my days as a kid watching my late mother Carol Corbett getting hit by a couple of men in her life.

I once witnessed a terrible beating she received in broad daylight at Jones Beach by one of her boyfriend’s. (Have I mentioned in the past how my father hit her too?)

It was a late Saturday afternoon in early September and most of the sun-worshipers were gone .  The sun was going down, the wind began to pick up and we were shaking out our blankets. As I was gathering up my stuff, I heard my mother screaming.  I looked to my left and I saw her being smacked by Bob, A.K.A. ‘Creepy Bob’ (our nickname for him).  I stood there shirtless and frozen, holding my damp towel; what was a young boy to do?

I watched a beating that day; one that I will never forget. Thank heavens it wasn’t the age of You Tube!  The saddest part of the incident is that no one interfered, except for some old Jewish lady sitting on her beach chair just a few yards away shouting, ‘Leave her alone, Leave her alone’. (OK lady, some help you are)

The rest of the early evening was mostly a blur for me.  But I do recall sitting in the back seat of Creepy Bob’s car driving all the way back from Brooklyn listening to him scream and berate my mother to death, as she sat motionless in the front seat next to this lunatic.

Let it be known, he wasn’t the only scumbag who hit my mother.  I have more images in my mind of so-called ‘men’, striking my mother who stood about 5′4″. Bob Arum or Don King would assign her in the light flyweight division.

Domestic abuse is a universal problem; it happens in many homes, upper, middle and lower class.  It happens in families where you would never even think of it happening. I know of others growing up in the neighborhood who went through the same pain and suffering over time.  The following is a blurb from wikipedia.com

Domestic violence has many forms including physical aggression (hitting, kicking, biting, shoving, restraining, throwing objects), or threats thereof; sexual abuse; emotional abuse; controlling or domineering; intimidation; stalking; passive/covert abuse^[1][2] (e.g., neglect); and economic deprivation. Domestic violence may or may not constitute a crime, depending on local statues, severity and duration of specific acts, and other variables. Alcohol consumption^[3] and mental illness^[4] have frequently been associated with abuse.

There have been many scholarly studies over the years by so-called experts with 6 different degree’s as to why domestic abuse takes place. Here’s a piece of information Discovered in my research is the following:

Approximately 1.3 million women and 835,000 men are physically assaulted by an intimate partner annually in the United States.

Patricia Tjaden & Nancy Thoennes, U.S. Dep’t of Just., NCJ 183781, Full Report of the Prevalence, Incidence, and Consequences of Intimate Partner Violence Against Women: Findings from the National Violence Against Women Survey, at iv(2000), available at http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/nij/pubs-sum/183781.htm

Who really knows why it occurs? I do know for a fact that it takes a sick individual to strike their spouse. Guys who hit their significant other (or girlfriends, even their children) are nothing but cowards; there’s nothing tough about a man striking a woman (or child). Only a coward strikes someone defenseless as a woman or child. (I can’t wait to read the e-mails/comments…)

There are many theories to why men abuse women; Whether it’s stress related, anger, hot temper, loss of job, state of depression, personality problems/disorder, substance abuse (alcoholism) or even jealousy.  It’s there, there’s no getting around it, but how in the world do we curb it? How do we confront it? Do you need a Ph.D in Family Studies? No, absolutely not!

Is there enough being said publicly about it? Is it like other deviant behavior that is hidden? Swept under the rug? Ignored?

Maybe some abusers think it’s too macho to seek help? Do you know of similar situations but refuse to step in because it’s not your business? We are taught to ‘mind our own business’, right? Screw that, if I see or hear of some kind of abuse, I’m going to do all I can to help.

Why do women fail to report an incident? When they do muster up the courage, is it too late? Are they afraid of what will happen without the bread-winner if he is thrown in jail? Where does a mother of 3, who is unemployed or uneducated take their kids? All these issues factor in each case.

I once read somewhere in an article from a magazine that stated if you grow up in a household where domestic abuse is common, you will grow up to abuse; I beg to differ. I have been with my wife Mary for 18 years, and I’m proud to say that not once have I ever come close to striking her.  If you happen to see or know of a case where domestic abuse takes place, step up and do the right thing; help that person. Contact your local police, we all need to do our part and end this senseless cowardly behavior.

There’s a verse in a song by the Temptations, ‘Treat Her Like A Lady”,  ”When I was young, my mama used to say, boy a woman’s like a flower, with love on her you shower; Ever since that day, her words never went away I always will remember to treat my baby tender.” Don’t know the song? Here’s the video.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m now on Facebook and even Twitter @CoachFinamore

Picking up where I left off a couple of days ago on things I miss growing up in the neighborhood…

I miss:

Getting a basketball for a present every Christmas; getting dressed and running across the street to the Schoolyard…

Going to basketball games at Bishop Ford…And sneaking in through the red door without the handle on 9th avenue…

Watching the older guys play 3 on 3 basketball in the schoolyard…

Playing taps in the schoolyard…

Watching summer league basketball games…

Getting an ice from Bonnalli’s…

Working in Key Food on 9th avenue for a dollar an hour…

Delivering the Daily News at 6:30 AM…(Not really)

Playing in the rain…

Talking with Tom Brady…

Talking with Leo Ferritty…

Throwing snowballs from Jimmy Cullen’s backyard at a neighbor a few doors down…

Buying newspapers from Ray and Otto’s…

Riding the B75 Bus…

Slipping under the revolving gate at the Windsor Place Subway station…

Cross-Country practice in Prospect Park West…

Drinking Wild Irish Rose in the back of the Home…

Hanging out in the subway late at night to stay warm…

Sitting on the window sill with a pillow watching all the people walk by…

Eating Fish Cakes and Beans on Friday’s from Henry’s Deli on Prospect Avenue…

Hanging out in hallways on 16th street and the Parkside…

Rice Pudding from Pynn’s Deli…

Being chased by La-La, Mr. Zoli and yes, the NYPD…

Sitting on the Corral drinking Tango…

Getting a haircut from Harry’s…

Playing cards on the sidewalk…

Hanging out on a stoop shooting the breeze…

Being a member of Danny Pisselli’s Bantam basketball team going to O.L.A chanting “UC-LA” with teammates walking down 74th street in Bay Ridge at 9AM…

Playing CYO basketball and wearing a Holy Name jersey…

Talking with Red from Red’s Shoe Store…

Playing Whiffle Ball with Tommy Houk on Howard Place…

Listening to Carmine tell us he pitched last night for the Mets all the while we knew they were on a West Coast trip…

Buying 45’s for ninety-nine cents at the Record shop on 5th avenue…

My red, curly hair…

Most of all, I miss all my friends I grew up with on the Avenue…

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m now on Facebook and Twitter: @CoachFinamore

When Glenn Thomas posted a comment a couple of days ago, he mentioned watching Frankie Esposito getting hit by a car on Prospect Park Southwest.  While Frankie was recovering, I recall going to his house on Prospect Avenue and visiting to see how he was doing.

That disturbing incident brought back a lot of memories.

Glenn’s memory  of ‘Espo’ also brought back a couple of memories of yours truly getting hit by a car and being an innocent passenger in the backseat of a yellow cab way back in the day while the cabbie hit a pedestrian.

Back in November of 2007, while standing on the sidewalk in downtown Jackson, Michigan I was about to step off the curb and enter my white Honda Accord which was parked at the corner of a busy intersection.  A driver, which was coming towards me decided to try and beat the light…they failed. In the middle of the intersection the driver crashed into a moving car, jumped the sidewalk and mowed me down. Thank God I am fully recovered (well not really, it’s tougher for me to run and jump these days, my slam dunking days are over). But it could’ve been worse. I happy to be living…

As a young boy I recall sitting in the back seat of a taxicab with my mother on our way home from my Grandmother’s house on 14th street and 4th avenue. The cab driver was going awfully fast up 16th street between 8th and 9th avenues. Without warning, a girl was running across the street and was hit by our driver.  It’s odd because a few years later I became friends with the victim’s older sister.

We can all agree that getting hit by car isn’t any fun. It can be quite devastating. Jimmy Vackner, another neighborhood guy and frequent contributer to the Container Diaries mentioned Laura Plantamura getting hit by a car which made me think back to a few days ago I read in the Daily News that someone had been hit by a drunk driver and killed.

After I was struck by a car in 2007, and endured a long rehab, I learned a valuable lesson; slow down while driving and always be careful when crossing the street.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I am now on Facebook and you can follow me on Twitter: @CoachFinamore

When I think back to the days of growing up on 9th avenue during the 70’s and 80’s, things I miss most and would love to reenact are…

Taking my basketball and heading to the schoolyard…

Playing punchball/slap ball in the girls schoolyard…

Watching cartoons and eating cereal while sitting on the living room floor…

Hanging out with friends all over the neighborhood…

Playing baseball in the Lot…

Playing two-hand touch in the street…

Playing whiffle ball, in the street…

Watching Farrell’s Football practice on Saturday afternoon in P.S. 154 school yard…then watching them play the following morning on Farragut Road…

Intramural football…

Being a student in Mr. Mussa’s 5th grade class…

Being a student in Miss Monzillo’s 7th grade class…

Saturday morning basketball practice in the schoolyard…

Bantam ‘B’ basketball practice down P.S. 10…

Hanging out in Glenn Thomas’s basement listening to his brother Drew’s awesome collection of vinyl…

Sitting in Prospect Park late at night with guys like John Cain, Kevin Molloy and Jimmy Carroll…

Hanging out late at night in Farrell’s waiting for Gerard Trapp to finish up his shift as bartender and going to George’s restaurant on Coney Island Avenue…

Watching Gerard play basketball for St. Francis College…

Hanging out with Mary Kawas, Laura Cox and Noreen Davis…

Holding hands with Maureen Horan…

Jumping the turnstile and taking the ‘F’ train to Coney Island…

Playing basketball at Manhattan Beach…

To be continued…

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m on Facebook and Twitter @CoachFinamore

This afternoon reading the NY Times I came across this article on parent discipline towards their child written by Hillary Stout (any relation to Billy from 19th street?) Why do we as parents yell at our kids and when?

“Yelling is done when parents feel irritable and anxious,” said Harold S. Koplewicz, the founder of the New York University Child Study Center. “It can be as simple as ‘I’m overwhelmed, I’m running late for work, I had a fight with my wife, I have a project due — and my son left his homework upstairs.’ ”

It’s funny because as I’m composing this blog entry, I’m yelling at Taylor, our ten year old.  Do you recall being yelled at as a kid?  Here’s a piece from the article on a study researchers conducted:

Numerous studies exist on the effect of corporal punishment on children. A new one came out just last month. Led by a researcher at Duke University’s Center for Child and Family Policy, the study concluded that spanking children when they are very young (1-year-old) can slow their intellectual development and lead to aggressive behavior as they grow older. But there is far less data on the more common habit of shouting and screaming in families.

This can be true and not so true.  I know some people who say they have been screamed at, spanked and hit hard actually by their parents but turned out just fine.  And on the subject of yelling, the article states:

If someone yelled at you at work, you’d find that pretty jarring. We don’t apply that standard to children.

There’s a valid point there. I would hate for my boss to yell at me. I’m also beginning to learn more and more that my athletes do not liked being screamed at by their coach.

On a final note, a friend of mine who shall remain anonymous once told me his method of working on his quickness and agility was dodging punches from his father.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m on Facebook and Twitter: @CoachFinamore

Here’s a couple of pictures of a couple of tree’s in my neighborhood.  This is a great time of year! The colors are gorgeous!

Seeing all the leaves falling from the trees, it means I will be raking soon-something came to mind…Do kids gather up leaves and build a huge pile to jump in anymore?

By the  way, I have mentioned it in the past, if you’d like to submit a blog entry, be my guest.  I’d love to hear from people who grew up in the neighborhood and would love to share their experience.  E-mail your material and I’ll post it on the front page. Also looking for pictures from the past or the present of the neighborhood! Have an idea for a blog entry, feel free to e-mail me!

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m now on Facebook and also on Twitter @CoachFinamore

There are a few dates on the calender that when someone mentions them, or you happen to think about them, immediately you recall where you were on those dates.  For instance, 9-11, Dec. 25, 4th of July, Jan 1, and probably your birthday.

To some, these dates hold a special place in their hearts. For some, not so much.

Yesterday was October 15 and during the A.M. while glancing at my planner, something occurred to me.  October 15 was usually the official day the Bible hit newsstands. No, not that bible, I’m talking ‘Street and Smith’s’ Official Yearbook.

The thing was like Gold in my hands.

It cost us about $2.00 and came out once a year.  I recall paying once with two dollars in change…

I would take it home or the schoolyard and read it cover to cover.

Starting with the High school section in the beginning all the way to the NBA schedule in the back.  It covered everything; Small college basketball,  Girls basketball, Juco, every D-1 conference in the country and of course the NBA.

I’m not sure when my love for the magazine tailed off but today, when I realized the date, it brought me back, way back.

One year I walked into Ray and Otto’s and looked all over their wall of magazines for the Bible.  After looking for a few minutes, I didn’t see it.  I thought to myself, “hmmm…, it’s October 15th, what the heck?”

“Ray, do you have Street and Smith’s?” I asked.

“No, it didn’t get here yet.”

I walked out and down the street to Tokyo Joe’s, on the corner of 16th street.

“Do you have Street and Smith’s? I asked as I poked my head in the door.

“Yeah, right here.” Joe said as he disappeared for a second behind the counter and pulled out a bundle of magazines tied up.

I walked inside the store and pulled out my money.

“First one.” Joe said as he clipped the string and handed me the copy on top.  I handed him the money and left.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

I’m now on Facebook and also on Twitter @CoachFinamore