LITTLE LEAGUE

First recollections of what Little League was to an eight year old was the late spring of 49 or 50, meeting of all 8-12 year old boys. We were sitting, as a group, in the grandstands backing up to Hickory St., facing the High School football field. Andy had distributed paperback black and white handbooks on basic baseball fielding skills. It was our first exposure to any formal instruction re the game of baseball. That same handbook was revered as our "cookbook for life", more important than any school text. Few of us had ever had any previous instruction in ball handling skills. We just picked up what we could from the older guys in our neighborhood. Back then; reducing the sizes for youth hadn't caught on yet, so it was somewhat of a struggle just keeping the adult mitt on our little hands. And of course the game was always dominated by the older and bigger guys who could throw a pretty nasty bullet. If an eight-year-old wanted, and was allowed to play, he would be competing against guys six to eight his senior. Next recollections were of all the younger players, along with the new kids, those who were playing for the first time, lined up along the Lincoln Street fence, near the water fountain. The League had four teams; Yankees, Indians, Dodgers and the Red Sox. The teams were already formed and the games played on the regulation Lincoln St. field with shortened base -lines and pitching mound, for us little guys. The purpose of this line up was for the coaches to take turns choosing the new players. The team one was chosen for on that day was the team they played for until old enough to move up to the Small Fry. The coaching staff seemed to be quite stable from year to year. There were other coaching assistants throughout, but the head coach es were constant. There were oth ers who were equally responsible for the program's success. They met in the basemen t meet ing room of the Wagner Hotel. Thus, the Wagner was the unofficial headquarters for all activities to be known as the Waverly Little League. As little kids we weren't privy to the actual organizational history of the League. What is recalled i s that dads, uncles and other volunteers were having Saturday and evening work bees in an unimproved field adjacen t to the Lincoln St. complex. The property was an extension of the residential property owned by Elmer England , who transferred the property over to the Waverly Recreation for the sum of one dollar. Gradually, the word got around that this was going to be the new home for the Little Leaguers, with regulation base lines and all. Little did we know just how much more there was to be! Before the very special Memorial Day grand opening, the outfield fence needed to be adorned with hand painted local advertisem ent signs such as, Endicott Johnson Shoes, Market Basket Groceries, Gibbs Insurance, Cloverdale Dairy, and about a half dozen other hometown businesses. The author's grandfather hand painted each sign for the fee of six dollars, half of which he returned to support the program. Recalled were the hot summer days, accompanying the artist, making sure he had sufficient canvas protection for his 82-year-old head. (More about the fence.) As is the practice in all ballparks, over the fence is the perfect hit, a homer. It was rumored among the players that when a batter belted one over a given sign, they would receive a free product from that store or business. The first regular home run hitter was a squatty and burly Yankee catcher called "Yogi". After each of Yogi's belts we would all be thinking "...another pair of shoes for Yogi, another ton of coal, etc.". It wasn't until some six decades later, at a class reunion that the validity of this rumor was presented to Yogi himself. With his usual grin and twinkle, he responded that he had also heard the same rumor. Since his mother had at the time, been recently widowed with a growing family, "the awards certainly would have been put to good use." Unfortunately, it was just a rumor! The grand opening was announced for Memorial Day. The days leading up to the grand event dragged on as painfully as any school day. Not only would we have our own new field but we would each have our own brand new (heavy scratchy wool) uniforms: caps, stockings and all! The big day finally showed up on the circled calendar. This author was probably not the only boy restlessly trying to sleep in his scratchy new suit. To this day, it is remembered as one of the longest sleepless nights of a lifetime! This Little Leaguer eagerly bolted out onto Howard Street, only to find it was still the dark of night. As he stood under the beaming streetlight waiting for the dawn he was soon joined by his neighbor, Wayne. Together, they took turns tossing rounded rocks into the air and attempted to catch them in their far too large mitts. For the first time, the two boys recognized that they were different. For one had a dark blue cap while the other shone bright red in the street light. Did this mean they could no longer be best friends? The ball players were to assemble on Broad Street, near the Loder Street corner, but not ti t mid-morning, hours away. There was to be a big parade, with the High School band, the Legion Drum and Bugle corps and color guard, fire trucks, dignitaries in convertibles, and about a hundred nine-twelve year olds showing off their first ever real official baseball uniforms, marching as tean1s with their coaches. We paraded up to Hickory Street onto the pristine, all decked out field, lining up along the base lines and across the outfield where the High School band was lined up to play the first Star Spangled Banner. A microphone PA system was set up on home plate and local dignitaries and Reverend Homrighouse and Reverend Dubrick and 1'.fayor Jackson gave opening dedications. The community spirit of Memorial Day took on a much greater significance than today's celebration, just as Armistice Eve carried a much greater emotion following WWI. It was rare for a hometown of any size to not have its own Memorial Parade. It was a time to show respect for what the flag stood for; many of the marchers \Vere fresh from the battlefields. Along with the veterans were all things the community had to be proud and thankful for. It would have been difficult finding standing room anywhere along the parade route. The·entire community: grandparent s, neighbors, cowboys and visitors enjoyed the procession. If one wasn't a marcher, then they were there to cheer on and support all that represented their proud community: "Our Town." Finally, the first ball was thrown. Following was the first two games for the Waverly Little League, on their new very own home field. Everyone on our team got to play that day. We played the second game. When the little eight year old was sent into left field with his all too large glove, vivid memories of the scary thoughts zipping through his fearful brain. "What if a batter hits the ball to him?" Does he get under the ball , risking the possibility of a broken nose, or worse, being blinded by a direct face smash?! Or should he misjudge the speeding projectile and pick it up off the ground? The latter choice seemed to be the healthier and therefore most practical for the beginner. One thing is for certain, no matter which of the four tams we were a part of, we all had the best coaches in the world. Even though there was always the competitive spirit to win, all the coaches were there as mentors to all the players, no matter what color uniform we sported. There were coaches who moved on to other communities but for the most part there was a solid continuity of coaching staff through the years. Sixty years later, there will regretfully be names overlooked or inadvertently forgotten, but their efforts, their contributions never diminished but have lived on in our lifetimes. Those names surviving the test of time are: Seward Weiss, John Kimber, Mr. Bartone and Mr. Purcell for the Red Sox. The Yankees, who seemed to dominate the winning column, were coached by Louis Sisto and Ed Hobson, and C. Jackson. The Dodgers were coached by Jim Gay and Bud Cortright. Hi Dunfee and Bob Weidman mentored the yellow stocking Indians. These were men who gave of their personal time and effort, were the epitome as models and enjoyed all the responsibilities that went along with being a coach. They were the models who set the standards for all other coaches down to this day. It was a time when a coach could place a guiding hand on a boy's shoulder without the fear of being arrested. It was expected that if someone was in need of a stem reprimand , it was gracefully administered. And if news of the action ever reached home, it surely would be repeated. Interesting is the fact that not all coaches played the role because they were supporting parents. Ed Hobson , Seward Weiss and John Kimber, each are examples. We were their kids! Even the umpires were spiffy looking in their dark blue uniforms. There were other regulars, but remembered are: Nick Pically, Nick Cascio, John Gorman and Ray Cowles. Vividly recalled are the dugout antics such as jumping, ducking and thrashing at the all too often foul hits that flew directly into both the first base and third base below ground shelters. It became more of a survival skill than just an interest in paying very close attention to the game's progress. Even tually, that problem was eliminated with the addition of a chicken wire protective fence along the front of the pits. And a little later, we were given weird looking batting head shells which protected one side of the batters head . But for a nine year old facing a towering twelve year old with a wind up and outstretched arm that seemed like Plastic i\!Ian himself, this was a small comfort towards survival! · Other additions to the beautiful l y landscaped, impressive field would be a cinder block concession stand, directly upon entering the field. Atop this full service concession would be a larger than life wooden silhouette of a baseball batter in his ready to hit away stance, announcing to the world that this was his proud new home. Again, there is more than a casual remembrance of watching Grandpa paint the batter onto the silhouette. Atop the stand was a second level press box facing down onto home plate. This was where the valley's new rad io station WATS would have their popular DJ Gene Edwards announce the Tuesday evening games. One year, a representative player from each team was chosen to go down to the station house in Sayre for a live interview about our Little League program. What a High!!! It soon became obvious that there was a need for a LL Auxiliary (mothers) to operate the food concession. This author's mother organized and was the first president of the Waverly Little League Auxiliary. Another traditional LL activity was the annual LL Tag Day. Each player, in uniform, would be assigned a time and place to collect donations in exchange for three inch square tags noting that the bearer supports Waverly LL. Since nearly all retail shopping took place between the A&P and Clark Street, it was easy to reach out to most of the community. The command center, if you will, was at the Cronk's Sporting Goods Store on Loder St. The most prized assignment was the Sunday beat at the ever- popular O'Brien's Restaurant on Waverly Hill. Here the homeboys would be soliciting from a clientele from far and wide. Most of the customers were from faraway places, traveling on the old route 17. After the tags were all sold, the boys were treated by Mr. Ed O'Brien to a full course turkey dinner; a first for many of us. Following each opening day and many of the more important games, full size black and white photos of action highlights would be posted in the storefront windows of the Evening Times on Loder St., in the Gibbs Insurance Bldg. Mr. Dan Lawrence, a local photographer, took most of the pictures. The Evening Times gave good coverage both pictorially and statistically of our seasons. It wasn't long before we started hearing rumors that our field was considered one of the best in the country. As kids, we certainly couldn't compare. Even when we were on our representative teams, we didn't play on too many other fields. We played a couple Binghamton teams but this was on our own field. However, what we did get to see from other fields was that ours didn't leave much to be desired. On the subject of winning and losing, as mentioned above, the Yankees seemed to dominate the win column each year. At the other end of the spectrum was a team that couldn't get into the win mode no matter how well they played. And it certainly wasn't due to poor coaching. The Red Sox had the best of coaches and they practiced diligently on Saturday mornings, only to find themselves on the losing end each Tuesday and Thursday. Finally, probably as the result of a meeting of minds at the Wagner, an unusual event took place. Somethi ng never before experienced in the previous three years of Waverly LL. When a boy was chosen from that infamous new player line up, he continued on that team until graduating up to the Small Fry League. It was obvious that the Red Sox required additional support. Every player deserved the opportunity to experience victory. Keeping this philosophy in mind, the decision was made to reinforce the losing team with a player from each of the other three teams, in order to strengthen their roster. But even through their string of losses, the Sox had their number one fan. He was a gentlemanly bachelor car dealer on Broad Street. His name was Bob Mattoon. Win or lose, Bob helped us celebrate by buying the entire team ice cream, hot dog, and bottle of pop, at the concession stand. He was usually there to root us on and support our every play. This certainly went a long way towards easing the pressure of losing. Even after the summer season, the LL activities continued. Following each regular season, Andy put together a gala banquet (usually chicken a la king), held in the H.S. gymnasium. Small dark gold baseball pendants were awarded the Champion team of that season. On stage, before our long white table clothed tables, we were mesmerized by the light hearted pantomime of Gene Edwards, a local broadcaster, doing, "Hooray, Hooray, I'm Going ...With the Man in the Little White Coat, "As he wriggled and struggled in his straight jacket. Following, we were awed by the singing guitar totin ' cowboy, Johnny Hedges. And there was a boy singer, about 13 years old from Elmira. Boy could he croon! We didn't need such a banquet to support our fortunate status but it was certainly the icing on the cake. Organizing, overseeing, planning, coordinating, supervising the smallest detail of the entire program was everyone's mentor, Mr. Andrew Codispoti, or just Andy. Fresh out of a WWII stint, an Ithaca College graduate, Andy was our second father. He originally hailed from a small Pennsylvania town down around °Coudersport. Andy was our first community Recreation Director, although before Andy was a Mr. Peyton. Andy set the standard for all subsequent Recreation Directors. Being a bachelor with nothing more than a little gray 43 Dodge Coop, which was always filled with recreation equipment, projectors and screens. He was always where the action was! There could never be enough time or space to do justice to what we all owe to that young leader. Not just young kids, but our parents and other coaches hold a deep thankful debt of gratitude to everything that Andy gave the community. Without Andy's heritage, these pleasant memoirs could not be shared. All would have agreed then and today, that the common thread holding i t all together from beginning to implementation was Andy. He was always there. Before games making sure the field was well groomed, filling in as umpire when necessary, cooking hot dogs in the concession stand, providing first aid as a trainer, making sure we were prepared to face other out of town teams, and always, always modeling character. An interesting side bar here would be to make note of the fact that although one of the "laws of the land", was no smoking, many of the coaches used tobacco both on and off the field. There are visions of coaches batting fly balls to the fielders, while holding cigars or cigarettes in the mouth. Tobacco use for adult was not considered a health hazard and smoking was a very common and acceptable aspect of all adult society. Another important note was that Little League wasn't just for the townies. The program reached out to those from Lockwood , Chemung and across the state line into South Waverly. How do we compare a "before and after"? The taped up split handled , too heavy "Louisville Slugger", was replaced by brand new white ash Adirondack bats ranging in size from 26 oz. To 34 oz. Taped up, sometime coverless balls replaced by out of box spanking white missiles. Stone bases replaced with commercially made real base bags. Constant arguing and bickering about fair balls , and virtually all aspects of the neighborhood sand lot gatherings, hushed by real umpires and knowledgeable coaches. So wh'lt impact did such community efforts have on the male youth of the time? What can we look back on and consider as benefits- long after the thrill of the game has faded? What was learned besides baseball skills? Each of us could readily identify several paramount benefits of our experiences. No listing would ever be complete. There was the teamwork concept, learning to respect all adults, m eaning of responsibility, and gracefully accepting both victory and defeat. Included were all of the life skills that have served us far beyond the playing field. The experiences were the "blueprint" for our developing concepts of "who we are", and "What do we want to be" our character development. Neighborhoods from across and outside of town were brought together with absolutely no expressions of self-bravado. Creating friendships lasting throughout lifetimes. Was LL just a well-groomed field of dreams? Surely it was i mportant as a setting. What LL stood for, went beyond the park, into every neighborhood, all up and down Broad Street, th roughout the valley, over the airways and into the very core of the family unit. Our badge of identification was the brightly colored red, yellow, bl ue or black cap, which we were allowed to wear around town. What would we change if we could? May be the deletion-of that nagging fear of being hit by a speeding missile, as an eight year old. And yes, there was just one big negative for this little leaguer. A favorite pastime on those hot summer days was to escape most of the day at ye ole swim hole. This was a no-no on game days. Swimming was forbidden on game days. It zapped too much energy, leaving a tired teammate for the evening game. There were many days when this was a tough way to learn "responsibility of being on a team". "No swimming" ranked right up there with "No smoking". In conclusion, the players may have been little, but there was nothing short of major about the total community support!