Recalling North County CYC Baseball

“The one constant, through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.”

So said James Earl Jones as Terrence Mann in the iconic film “Field of Dreams.”

When I first saw that movie, I cried like a little kid at the last scene, where Ray is playing catch with his dad.

That was always something I remember about my dad, us playing catch in the front yard.

Baseball was just that constant in my youthful years. We’d leave the house of a summer morn, bat and glove and a couple of old balls in hand, and play most of the day. Come home for fried baloney sandwiches and Kool Aid and back out til late afternoon, when we’d wander home and sit under the shade of the sweet gum tree and figure out our batting averages or how many homers Jimmy had that day.

I started playing organized ball in first grade at St. Jerome Parish. Our home field was Bissell Hills Park, right next to the church, nestled in the middle of our neighborhood. We wore green-trimmed, white flannel uniforms, all of us. So many of us there were that the only differentiating sign was the color of our hats, purchased at Murphy’s Sporting Goods.

Our entire league was St.Jerome kids. Such was the era of the Boomers. No coach-pitch, no pitching machines. It was old-school kid-pitch, and most times, the walks far exceeded the hits. But it was Baseball, we were Baseball Players, through the gnats and mosquitoes that swarmed out of the creek that ran along the fields, cheered by parents in their webbed lawn chairs, amidst the dusty slides and grass-stained knees and sweaty faces and Bazooka bubble gum.

I think at first we were called Atoms. Then we became Bantams, and Crusaders, and Intermediate. All under the auspices of the Catholic Youth Council. As time went by, we played other parish teams, like St. Pius, Good Counsel, Mount Carmel, St. Casimir, St. Catherine, Holy Cross. All gone now, not only in name but in reality. Yeah, it was a golden era, an ethereal moment, a distinct memory of growing up for most boys of that time.

As we got older, and some kids either lost interest or just weren’t cut out for the game, the teams became fewer and the competition tougher. The rivalries became more intense. My most memorable season was the summer of 1961. Our team was made up of us sixth-graders and a bunch of talented fifth-graders.   Vince pitching, Bobby catching, Charlie at third. Donny on first, Russ in right, Mike, center. There was Jimmy holding down left, Vito at second. I got to play shortstop. Eddie, Jimmy, Dennis, Joey, Bobby, Rich – all contributed that year. We won our league, got into the playoffs.

After our first win, we met a team from St. Thomas More at Fairgrounds Park. Turns out that one of my high school soccer teammates was on that team. But, as I found out just recently, he was climbing a tree before the game, fell out of it and broke his arm. We beat St. Thomas More. Thanks, Buzzy.

Our semifinal game was at the first Busch Stadium on Grand Avenue in North St. Louis. We were up against a talented right-hander from St. Ann. As it was, Kevin also became a high school classmate. After squeaking by that game, the championship match-up was again at Busch. And we were able to pull off another close victory versus Ascension. Against another future high school classmate, Jimmy. Funny how paths collide, right?

I have my 55-year-old green City Champ jacket safely stashed in a box downstairs. Things really shouldn’t have such value in the grand scheme of things. But this, as The Lovely Jill knows, is one that I cherish.

“Baseball has marked the time. This field, this game; it’s a part of our past,” said Terrence Mann. “It reminds us of all what once was good, and could be again.”

St. Jerome’s 1961 CYC team in which Tom Anselm was a member.

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