Tags
1977, Baseball, Carmine, Cincinnati Reds, Gooch, Holy Name, Johnny Bench, New York Yankees, Pete Rose, Sparky Anderson, Tom Seaver, Tony Perez
On June 7, 1977, the day I turned 13 years old my father let me down. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.
That day I was officially a teenager but I really had no clue what that was all about.
Despite it being 34 years ago, that day still sticks in my mind.
You don’t erase shit like that. It scars you.
Say what you want about forgiving and forgetting or even, “let it go.”
No way!
As a kid you should never, ever, be disappointed by the ones who brought you into this world; mother or father.
The booze drinking, gambling fool, skirt chasing bastard promised to take me to Shea Stadium in Queens to see the New York Mets play the Cincinnati Reds.
You don’t know how excited I was when he told me.
The Big Red Machine was in town. Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Dave Conception…
The season before Sparky Anderson’s crew swept the New York Yankees in the World Series, 4-0.
Tom Seaver was on the mound that night for the Mets. I had seen Carmine the day before on the avenue and he told me he was pitching against the Reds. You remember Carmine?
I sat on the edge of my bed staring out the window, hoping the Gooch would show. ‘Gooch’ was his nickname; to this day I have no clue why and who gave it to him.
Every few minutes I would peek out the window; then at the clock on the wall; Out the window, then at the clock…
5:45…
6:00…
6:15…
6:30…
Jesus Christ, is he ever going to show up?
My mother kept calling me from the kitchen, “DINNER’S READY!”
I didn’t respond.
I wanted to see the Gooch with my own eyes walking up the street towards our apartment.
When a group of people emerged, I would stick my head out the window for a closer look.
Men and women dressed in their work clothes coming up Windsor Place towards the avenue meant an a ‘F’ train pulled in from Manhattan with all the hard-working people, hustling home, looking forward to dinner with their families.
By 7 o’clock, I knew the bastard wasn’t showing up.
Years later, hoping for an explanation, he took the easy way out; he never told me why. Probably thought it didn’t mean anything to me. I was a kid, right? What did I know?
Obviously the spineless creep had no idea what child-development was all about. This was a chance to show just how much he cared about me (he had left us 8 years earlier).
Clearly this was not a positive memory.
On the other hand, a moment that I will never forget is when a friend of my mother’s took me to the Parkhill for a hamburger, coke and fries. After the meal it was off to the Sanders theatre to see the film Papillion.
Thanks mom, you knew I was bummed, you came to my rescue.
What’s one of life’s special moment as a kid that you will treasure forever? Maybe it was something your mother, father or even family friend did for you?
These moments are what life’s all about, the important things that we can never forget.
By the way, the Mets beat the Reds that night 8-0. How did I know? I watched it on channel 9.
Respectfully,
Steve
Hoops135@hotmail.com
CONTAINER DIARIES 
jim maloney said:
1987….a mother and her son enjoying the afternoon matinee. Problem was it was a school day. No matter…you get a chance to do something special for your kid or otherwise you go for it to echo your sentiments Steve. My mother and I watched the Big East Tournament that weekday afternoon almost 25 years ago. I have some memory of the afternoon and who was playing etc. Reggie Williams and his quintessential Georgetown team I recall were strong that particular day. I remember that it was very enjoyable for me..it was really exciting to be there watching in person. I always remember that day and the clear fact that she enjoyed my bliss. Thanks Mom…a special day with a special person. Sure didnt hurt that my cousin Mary Francis who worked at St John’s was thinking of us and was kind enough to provide the tickets and therefore a platform for a great memory.
hoopscoach said:
Jimmy,
Your mom was an angel.
Your dad believed in me as a coach. He gave me my start at Holy Name.
Thanks for sharing.
Hope you are well.
Do you still play ball?
Stephen whelan said:
I feel that you would be able to at least let go of anger if you realize that you are the one who continues to be affected by your father’s actions, while he is dead and feels nothing. You were blessed with a caring Mother who knew how to recognize hurt with one look in you’re eyes. If you continue to feel resentment it takes away from who you have become. From seeing your stories and your passion to your family, players, and the empathy you have for your extended family who follow you on the Container Diaries. I certainly am not attempting to suggest that I know the extent of your pain but I know as someone who has hurt many people in my active addiction and the education and practice of my profession. I know that remembering past negative actions of another and feeling the same anger you had when it happened keeps you stuck. Try to move forward. Your loved ones and all who respect you will benefit from a happier “coach”. memory is necessary and pain is optional. Thanks for putting up the notice of Al’s passing. If he could, he would thank you himself, I think you were kindred spirits.
With most respect and good Karma,
Steve Whelan aka. “Moby”
P.S. My appologize if your father is not dead. But “The Song Remains the Same”
hoopscoach said:
Thanks Stephen, appreciate it.
TonyF16ST said:
Steve you are 100% right. you can never shrug something like that off or just forget it. It will always be there gnawing at you. and now for the big “BUT” that you probably do not want to hear.
It happened, you didn’t become a criminal or dredge to society and whether you want to believe it or not. Ask you wife, daughter and friends, ask yourself what kind of man have I become what kind of Father am I to my child?
The ends will surely justfy the means.
Take it from one who knows.
hoopscoach said:
Thanks Tony…good stuff.
jimmy vac said:
We learn from our parents what to do or not what to do… Stephen Whalen has a point.. don’t forget it but look how far you came.. college graduate, coach,
devoted father and husband as well as a helluva great guy….
hoopscoach said:
Thanks Jim
John S. said:
This is a sad story. Parents are human too and we have to remember that, I have many faults of my own. I just read that if we expect nothing from even our closest loved ones we will always be surprised. But for a child,,that is a tall order. Forgive your dad and continue to pray for him as well as your mom. Maybe this is a test of sorts in learning how to forgive? Did you ever have to forgive anyone? If you said yes, maybe you can do that to for your dad?
Events in childhood can really scar a person. I am glad your mom was there to help ease the pain.
Maureen Rice (Flanagan) said:
Coach, I have similar memories of my own- quite a few no-shows from my dad when I was a kid- it leaves an impression, that’s for sure. It took me years to stop projecting those experiences on others who might be a few minutes late, my anger would be totally out of proportion- of course, I did fall into seeking out people who had the same failings, but that is another story- when I realized how those feelings were affecting my relationships with others, I made a conscious effort to separate them from what is actually happening now- I have , however, had to cut people out of my life who were chronic hang-ups or late, cause even though they are NOT my father, I will not be treated as an afterthought- to this day, I have people in my life who have NEVER hung me up, and if they are a few minutes late, those feelings will start to surface, but I have developed the ability to recognize them for what they are and let go.
hoopscoach said:
Thanks for sharing Maureen
Kenny Whelan said:
Have to say that I agree with mhy brother Stephen. At some point, you have to stop ripping that scab off over and over.
hoopscoach said:
Thanks Kenny…
John Langton said:
Stephan and Kenny Whelan – My Mother’s maiden name was Whelan. Her name was Anne and she grew up on 17th Street. Any relation?
Dave Potter said:
Let it out man.
My dad was a mean drunk. When I was 14 I ducked and he broke his hand on my forehead and that slowed him down a little. I left home when I was 16 and never looked back until about 2 years ago when I called him to talk about his mom (my grandmother) who needed some long term care. Guess what, HES JUST AS BIG AN A HOLE AS HE WAS BACK THEN! Thats just who he is and it has nothing to do with me or anyone else. I forgive him and I would never do anything to hurt him, hes my dad. But screw him. He made his own bed.
hoopscoach said:
Thanks Dave, that’s very courageous of you to share your story.
Hope all is well.
Kenny Whelan said:
John Langton – not sure. My grandfather had 11 brothers and one sister (he must have been Irish !!). Was you mom related to the Whelans on 8th st between 8th ave and PPW?? Our father Al Whelan was born in 1907 in Brooklyn and worked the docks in Manhattan as a proud member of the ILA.
Dave Potter said:
It was in ’79 and I remember like it was yesterday. I was no angel. I was out smoking weed and drinking shoplifted thunderbird with my friends and he confronted me. I lied, no doubt. I remember his face and seeing the pain in it after he broke his hand. He stormed out and I know where he went because he came back about an hour later, walked in to the bathroom and puked. I could smell it and it was straight Jack Daniels just like someone opened a bottle and sprayed it around the room. He must have gone down there and slammed four or five shots to kill the pain and came home and puked it out. Some shit just sticks with you.
Dave Potter said:
Best wishes to you and your daughter. I have two and they are the most precious people in the world to me. Sometimes I look at them and I’m so sad to know that there are parents who would treat them badly when they deserve nothing but the greatest love. I will never repeat the actions of my parents. God help me and them too. And you too.