Somers Youth Coaching Tidbits from the 1970s

Mr. Brown

Growing up, I played all the standards. Basketball, football, baseball and on occasion, I even played hockey on the pond behind my house. That said, I was delusional like everyone else. I would not only play for the Yankees but the Knicks and Giants too. Thus, I started playing organized basketball at the intermediate school and my young coach loved my scrappy defense and ability to drive to the basket. So I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to work on my dribbling skills. I would go down to my basement and pound the cement with the rock. I got pretty good, and there’s a decent chance my work got the attention of the man in charge. Always on hand overseeing the league and practices, Mr. Brown stressed the fundamentals, and for my purposes, suggested that the ABA was not the place to emulate the skill I was working. “They dribble up here," he instructed. "You've got to get lower to the ground.”

Of course, I followed suit in the basement. But I knew rising to the top or even the middle was going to be a tall order - especially for the shortest kid in the school. However, Mr Brown tried to get teammates to see me through the forest and a better record was his enticement. “If you passed the ball to Rich Monetti more often, you might do better,” he asserted.

I’m not sure if the ball actually came to pass, but when the season ended, their were McDonald's gift certificates for our stalwarts. The standard stuff - MVPs, high scorers, most rebounds, steals and top foul shooters received recognition. But one award was a bit unusual and maybe created specifically for a kid who gave it everything he had. Best Dribbler.

A wonderful gesture that I never forgot.

Mr. Rauh

Mr. Rauh was the coach of the Cubs and lived down the street in Shenorock. He was definitely dialed into being a little league coach, but you never got the sense that the game of winning and losing was more important than the kids. Nonetheless, he had two aces on the mound - the Costigan Brothers. The game in question had the brothers throw a one hitter against us, and the only blemish was a bunt single. After that, I guess I was the best we could do. I got a piece and bounced a ball back to the mound. No small accomplishment, I put my head down, ran to first and took the inevitable out call in stride. I then made my way past the opposing team's dugout, and Mr. Rauh showed he wasn't just the coach of his team. He realized that putting the ball in play against a very good pitcher, and doing what I was supposed to do as a baseball player, required acknowledgement. He patted me on the back, and praised, "Good hustle son."

Yes, winning and losing was not more important than the kids, and I'm glad Mr. Rauh was there to teach us.

Me and My Dad

If you play little league baseball and have your dad as coach, it can be a very tricky endeavor. My father coached me from 4th grade through 7th, and I potentially carried the possibility that other kids would see any position gained as favoritism. Well, it was quickly established that I wouldn't be getting any special treatment. In fact, it would have been a lot easier if my dad wasn't the coach. I usually batted last in practice and chasing down wayward equipment or loose balls seemed my official position. When the season started in 5th grade, I was on the end of the bench and likely got the required one at bat and two innings of play in the field. So as the season moved on, the whole team realized a lead off batter was needed. My father certainly didn't put my name up for candidacy, and I had no problem concurring. But then I got two hits off the best pitcher in the league, and after beating the Giants, the consensus was unanimous. "It looks like we found a lead of hitter," my Dad reiterated the obvious.

I slid in and everything that came after was never questioned. I settled in as just another kid on the team. You know, other than batting last in practice and picking up everyone else's mess. The extra duty was well worth, though. Thanks Dad.

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