seems like just yesterday we went to Catholic grade school together. He had a quick, crude sense of humor. His dad was a diehard Red Sox fan and back then the box scores from every game would be in the paper. His Dad bought these small, hard backed notebooks for each season and he'd carefully write the box scores of every game.
We went over to the neighborhood store at lunch one day in 2nd grade and I stole a piece of candy. When we got back to school Fitzy told me the store owner, Johnny knew I had stolen it. I walked back to the store and tearfully confessed to Johnny, who had no idea what I was talking about. I was pissed, Fitzy laughed and I never stole anything again.
We boxed together and Fitzy won the Golden Gloves. He was a small dude, about 125 pounds but a lefty and he could really pop the heavy bag. After highschool a few meatheads always wanted to challenge him and he dropped a number of bigger guys. Fitzy got a drunk driving ticket, so he never drank and drove again. Instead he'd leave the bar and call his wife from the phone booth across the street from the biker bar.
One night he was on the phone and 2 cocky bikers started busting his balls. He knocked them both out and got back on the phone. I was a rookie cop at the time and somebody called the cops, and when the first squad rolled up they saw this scraggly burnout standing there with two guys out cold on the pavement. They asked Fitzy what happened and he said, "what you think happened? And hey, tell Gunnyhighway to kiss my ass."
We'd play a lot of ball tournaments on the weekends and Fitzy never bored. Once he threw a guy out at home to end a game and pointed at him and made shooting gestures as he ran off the field, much to the home crowd's dismay.
He drank heavy and lost his job, and his family. He died alone in his parents old house, prolly dead for 2 days before anyone checked on him. In his obit, I saw and remembered his middle name, Michael, named after his uncle who died in Viet Nam. I guess the old verse, "your life is but a vapor" hits home when someone you grew up with dies but in my mind's eye, we are still Golden Gloves fighters, young and ready to take on the world.
Sorry to bore you, had to tell someone.
We went over to the neighborhood store at lunch one day in 2nd grade and I stole a piece of candy. When we got back to school Fitzy told me the store owner, Johnny knew I had stolen it. I walked back to the store and tearfully confessed to Johnny, who had no idea what I was talking about. I was pissed, Fitzy laughed and I never stole anything again.
We boxed together and Fitzy won the Golden Gloves. He was a small dude, about 125 pounds but a lefty and he could really pop the heavy bag. After highschool a few meatheads always wanted to challenge him and he dropped a number of bigger guys. Fitzy got a drunk driving ticket, so he never drank and drove again. Instead he'd leave the bar and call his wife from the phone booth across the street from the biker bar.
One night he was on the phone and 2 cocky bikers started busting his balls. He knocked them both out and got back on the phone. I was a rookie cop at the time and somebody called the cops, and when the first squad rolled up they saw this scraggly burnout standing there with two guys out cold on the pavement. They asked Fitzy what happened and he said, "what you think happened? And hey, tell Gunnyhighway to kiss my ass."
We'd play a lot of ball tournaments on the weekends and Fitzy never bored. Once he threw a guy out at home to end a game and pointed at him and made shooting gestures as he ran off the field, much to the home crowd's dismay.
He drank heavy and lost his job, and his family. He died alone in his parents old house, prolly dead for 2 days before anyone checked on him. In his obit, I saw and remembered his middle name, Michael, named after his uncle who died in Viet Nam. I guess the old verse, "your life is but a vapor" hits home when someone you grew up with dies but in my mind's eye, we are still Golden Gloves fighters, young and ready to take on the world.
Sorry to bore you, had to tell someone.
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