In our neighborhood we had many good pizzerias. Joe’s, Mom’s, Sabella’s, Frank’s, Lenny’s, Smiling, Pino’s…I am sure I’m leaving a few out.
A few nights ago I was watching a food show on television and they were going around the city highlighting different food spots. One place stood out, “Luigi’s Pizza” on 21st street and 5th avenue in Brooklyn. Now I know 21st and 5th is not considered our neighborhood and all that but I thought it was interesting that I had never been there before. I walked past it many times but never thought of stopping in for a slice.
Has anyone been there? It actually looked really good and they’ve been there forever.
I may have to drop by and check it out.
Hope all is well. Have a positive day and enjoy the weekend.
Last night while watching the Subway Series between the Mets and Yankees, TBS announcer Bob Costas mentioned collecting baseball cards as a kid and all the different things his friends would do with them. It got be thinking about my days collecting cards. By the way, Costas mentioned a Mickey Mantle card is worth close to $10 million dollars. WOW!
Boy do I wish I would have saved my cards.
To this day though, through some good friends, I still have a few cards. They’re my special collection of my favorite baseball player of all-time, George Brett. I keep them in my wallet. I also have a Micheal Ray Richardson card.
I am a continuous learner. Always trying to improve. I collect quotes and study successful people. I will ask a total stranger, “why are you working so hard?”
What can I say, I’m addicted to success and what makes people go…
There’s an outstanding 7-part documentary currently on ESPN about Derek Jeter. Highly recommend it. They are two parts in so far.
Some quotes taken from Part 2 last night.
“He was never chasing stardom. He was chasing success in regards to winning.” -Gerald Williams on Jeter
“Everybody says when someone becomes a celebrity they change. But ninety-nine percent of the time it’s the people around them that change.” -Sharlee Jeter
“You should never be okay with losing. When you lose people will say oh forget it. No, no, no… Remember it. Remember what that feeling is like. Don’t experience it again.” -Derek Jeter
“Once you win, there’s nothing else to do but to win again. Anything less than that is a complete failure.” -Derek Jeter
Youth basketball camp is popular this time of year. They’re going on all over the country. For the most part, if you’re a youngster, and you enjoy hoops, you’ll get a chance to attend a hoops camp. If you play high school, college or even pro, there’s a good chance you’ll work a week or two of basketball camp as a coach. In the summer of 1978, I attended Jack Curran’s Basketball Camp. I was 14 and ready to go from Holy Name Grammar school to Power Memorial High School.
Jack Curran was a legendary basketball and baseball coach at Archbishop Molloy High School in Queens, New York. He’s coached many great players over the years. Coach passed away in 2013 at the age of 82. When George Mason was in the Final Four in 2006, I ran into Coach Curran on the streets of Indy. We had a nice chat and he was so proud of Jim Larranaga, head coach at George Mason. Coach L played for him back in the day. I mentioned to Curran that I attended his camp. He smiled.
Camp was held at Marist College in Poughkeepsie, New York. It was me, Frankie and Jimmy Cullen, and Glenn Thomas.
We met at six in the morning at the train station on Windsor Place. Jumping on the Manhattan bound F- train we had to catch another train at Grand Central Station.
Our destination was 42nd street. Climbing the stairs to the street we found ourselves on 6th avenue. We had no idea where Grand Central Station was located. Think it was Frankie who asked a stranger on the street. Turned out we had to walk pretty far to Lexington Avenue. It was going to be a hike.
Noticing a black Daily News truck on the corner of 42nd and 6th dropping off stacks of newspapers to a newsstand, we asked the driver if we could jump in the back and get a lift.
He agreed.
It was a wild ride down forty-second. The guy was probably doing 60. Back door was open. I sat on a stack of papers.. It was scary.
After the train arrived in Poughkeepsie, we then had to take a taxi to campus. So much traveling to play ball. Talk about a road trip. We loved the game and would go anywhere to play.
Stations in the morning, decent food and a lot of basketball. There were a couple of guest speakers but I never paid attention. Big mistake. You have to be a good listener. Wish I would have listened. I was the kid in the back talking or daydreaming.
A few guys from the neighborhood like Chris Logan, Turk and Barry Rohrssen were at camp. They were counselors.
The late Tom Konchalski was on hand. I recall a line from Tom during one of our stations work. When TK explained something to us, he had us repeat after him, “that’s very interesting.”
44 years later that line has stuck with me.
They put you on a team. My coach for the week was Mike Doyle a college player at South Carolina – Doyle was a good guy who played his high school ball at Mount St. Michael. in the Bronx. His assistant for the week was his college teammate point guard Kenny Reynolds. Later on during the college basketball season Glenn and I went to Madison Square Garden to watch South Carolina play Syracuse. It was cool seeing Doyle out on the floor.
After a few days and nights of non-stop hoops, I felt I improved as a player. It was well worth it.
Camp was great. So much fun. Not sure why I didn’t go back the following summer?
To this day I still don’t know how Mom put the money up for the camp fee.
Camp life…every kid should have a chance to attend one in the summer. Plus it gives the parents a break.
When I skipped school, which was often, I had a lot of spots where I liked to visit. Some safe, some not so safe.
One place I enjoyed, despite disliking school was the library at Grand Army Plaza. It was pretty cool. The facade in front is sweet. Come to think of it I think they call it, “Central Library.” We used to say, Grand Army Plaza. You knew that meant the library.
“Let’s jog to Grand Army Plaza and back.”
I never went to the library on 6th Avenue and 9th street while I was cutting class, too afraid that someone I know may see me and tell my mother. Hey, why didn’t Holy Name have a library? Or did we and I’m having a senior moment?
Last night I came across an article in the New York Times about banned books. I find this to be a complete joke. As a serious reader, I never understood this thinking. Some of the titles are funny when you see them on the list.
In the summer of 1977, when I was 13, my mother sent me to Timboo’s Bar on 5th avenue to pick up a sixty-dollar money order from the Gooch. In those days I’m not sure how far sixty dollars could take us? The judge had ruled in favor of mom getting a few bucks per week for child support. There was me, my older brother and younger sister. Gooch wasn’t too happy about the decision despite being a bookie and Ironworker. He was making good bank.
We were on welfare living in a cheap apartment on ninth avenue. Third floor over Bob’s Hardware Store. Mom was working off the books doing the best she could. She worked two, sometimes three gigs at a time. Mom was a barmaid on fifth avenue. She worked the after-hours too. No high school diploma but a drive to work like no other. Raising three kids without a man around the house I’m sure was hard. But mom didn’t care, she found a way to support her kids. She filled the role of mom and dad.
I walked to Timboo’s alone on that warm Friday night looking forward to seeing Gooch. With it being Friday that meant it was probably payday. I thought of asking him for a five-spot. I was broke.
When I got to the bar it was a little after six, mom didn’t gave me an exact time he would be there so I walked in and waited. And waited. And waited.
The joint was crowded with the usual characters. Fat Tom, Roger, Stevie, Red, Billy Phelan, Dee-Dee O’Brien, Miles and Phil McNiff and many others. I looked through the crowd that was two deep at the bar. I glanced at his normal spot, no luck. Gooch always stood at the end next to the men’s room. This way he could see who walked through the front door. If he didn’t recognize the guy he would duck into the bathroom.
I looked everywhere, no Gooch. I was asking a few people if they had seen him. No one could help. I kept looking at the front door every time it opened. I walked to the back, past the pool table to the women’s rest room; it’s where the men went to drop a deuce. There were two guys shooting pool. They were serious. I waited for one guy to complete his shot, didn’t want to disturb his concentration.
“Always take a crap in the women’s room,” Gooch once told me. “It’s cleaner and remember to put toilet paper around the rim.”
Life lessons from a bum.
The door to the ladies room was open,Gooch wasn’t there. Felt like I was playing hide and go seek.
Frustrated, I took a seat in a booth close by the front door, a few feet from the jukebox. It wasn’t too bad though, I was hanging out in a bar with a bunch of men who would make a positive impact on my teenage days. Artie Rice, a good guy who hung out in the bar walked over to me and asked if I was waiting for my father?
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Me too,” Rice said.
I waited until eight,Gooch never showed. I left empty handedand disappointed.
Mom was pissed off when I got home without the money order.
Gooch was a mystery man. A ghost. I knew nothing about him except that he was a bookie and a deadbeat. And a bum…