(Editor’s note: This is the second guest column from local author Bill Robertson taking a light-hearted look at his days playing baseball in McKean County — this time in the Bradford Men’s Church Slo-Pitch Softball League.)
In the 1970s there were two thriving softball leagues in Bradford because everyone and their brother loved slow-pitch in those days. I chose the church league over the men’s circuit for two reasons. First, most of my friends played there, and, second, teams weren’t usually “out for blood.” Church league rules advanced sportsmanship, too. Someone said a prayer before each game, and alcohol or cussing weren’t allowed. To promote safety on close plays, a runner was required to slide into the base.
In 1975, I played on the Duke Center Free Methodist team, and our sparkplug and inspirational leader was catcher, Bruce “Brutely” Simes. Bruce led “pep rallies” before games and painted our lucky “Duke” sign that was displayed prominently in front of our bench. It was the picture of a gunslinger with a patch over one eye that Simesy based on John Wayne. Bruce was squat and powerful and didn’t take crap. His father had emigrated from Scotland where the motto “fierce when roused” were words to live by.
Our team got off to a hot start but could never seem to catch the Hill Memorial squad. They were loaded with sluggers like Tim Scott, Jim Saxman, and Dan DiFonzo, although we had our share of firepower, too. That set up a real “slugfest” in our first meeting. Despite losing 21-15 at Fretz Field, a play at the plate was to bond our team together for the rest of the season.
The game against Hill Memorial was nip-and-tuck from the beginning, and we could see the opposition start to sweat as we Dukes stood toe-to-toe with them. Finally, one of their big bashers slammed a liner into the outfield gap and picked up steam as he chugged around the bases. Our leftfielder tracked down the ball and flung it toward home. Simesy caught it on one hop. Scowling fiercely, he blocked the plate to prevent the runner from scoring. If the fellow had slid like he was supposed to, he’d have been out by three steps. Instead, he lowered his shoulder and bowled over Bruce like a tenpin, knocking loose the ball.
Brutely lay on his back, thrashing like an upturned turtle. When the umpire gave a surprising safe call, our catcher leaped up, charged the player who had hit him, and drove him into the ground. Simes must have gone a little crazy, because he flailed away at the guy with his fists as violence erupted around the field. It was mostly pushing and shoving like in most baseball fights, but the actions of our catcher had lit a spark that burned in our hearts! What made us especially mad was when Bruce got kicked out of the game for “brawling.” After all, it was the other player who had precipitated the incident and then scored illegally.
We got our revenge later in the season during the double-elimination playoff tournament. We fought our way back through the losers’ bracket and then beat Hill Memorial twice to claim the championship. The first game we won 14-10 with a 21-hit attack featuring Mike Kervin’s home run. We cracked 24 more hits, including triples by Gary Southard, Steve McCartney, and Gary Morton, in the title game to claim an 18-13 victory. Yes, a little basebrawl had turned our season around. We swarmed onto the field in celebration, waving Simesy’s Duke sign wildly over our heads.
