Bowled Over

 

(Photo: Rob Mazzei)

A few weeks back, a Facebook friend left a comment on a post of mine.

I've known Rob Mazzei since, well, let's go with a long time. Over forty years isn't a stretch at all. We were friends in high school and you know the drill. Go to school, get a job, family, drift apart, etc.

After high school, he was an honorable policeman and seems to live a good life.

As many retired police officers do, Rob has gone into doing security. In his case, he's been back at Mahopac High School.

So it was when he put the picture of a plaque on my post about an off night for the blog.

The picture brought me great joy. It screamed a ton of memories to me.

We won that plaque in 1987, just as it says. The Mahopac varsity bowling team topped all at Cortlandt Lanes that afternoon. Our raucous style of cheering on our teammates could certainly bother opponents but we loved it.

The scoring details are lost to history as far as I know. I remember sitting with a reporter from the Reporter Dispatch (now The Journal News) to help with names.

Bus rides were filled with teenage drama but also tons of laughter and singalongs. My dear friend Scott Wilson would bring his boombox, load up some cassettes, and the singing would begin. 

Yes, we even sang Bon Jovi (hi, Shawn Sailer). I had no control over changing the music. Besides, I had my trusty Walkman and headphones I could put on for my Huey Lewis fix.

Win, lose, or whatever, we had a blast. 

The boys and girls teams shared those bus rides. Oh, the fun we had.

And, as the plaque shows, the boys team had co-captains. Never be fooled: Rob Ellsworth was the anchor. Simply an outstanding bowler who led by example (and strikes). Also a quality human being.

The other captain? Well, never mind what kind of bowler he was. He was the leader in that he'd get in your face and tell you to get over whatever was crawling around in your skull. He'd pump you up. He'd keep you engaged. He'd encourage.

At least he tried. Or maybe his mind is foggy 36 years later.

We weren't world-beaters. We battled the better teams (Walter Panas High School always sticks out as a rival) and placed well within our league. We weren't a team that was going to win a state championship.

We were good. Sometimes very good.

Sometimes great and, in this case, a champion.

But no one had more fun than we did.

I look at that plaque nearly four decades later and I'm pleased to say I'm still in touch with Rick Zingel, Scott Wilson, Rob Ellsworth, Bob Sullivan, and Chris Caputo. Now, by "in touch" that generally means social media. I've seen Rick and Rob in the years since and Scottie is still a brother to me, though I am genuinely sad at how poorly we've been about getting together. 

It crushed me to miss his wedding due to being in San Francisco last September.

The other names on the list were people I was close to back in the day and played baseball with a couple of them. But life happens.

Then there's our beloved, albeit beleaguered coach, Dan Veglia. It was "Vegs" who told me I was going to be a captain of the 86-87 squad when he wrote it in my yearbook at the end of the 1986 school year. I beamed, feeling unworthy in terms of talent but loving the chance to be a leader.

He laughed at our insanity as a team but also guided us simply. He also knew how to put us in our place when necessary. No yelling. No screaming. Just simple, measured discipline.

We lost him far too young, in 1996. There is a volleyball scholarship named in his honor, as Vegs also coached that sport.

I guarantee they were great.

They just didn't have as much fun as the wild crew of the winter at the bowling alley.

All of this is more than just a narrative about ye olden days of strikes, spares, splits, and gutter balls, as well as fries and a drink at the Cortlandt Lanes snack bar.

You see, when we won that title, the plaque was blank. We all hoped, having won it in probably February, that it would be hanging by the time "Pomp and Circumstance" rang out that June for the Class of 87.

We all wanted to see it. Take pictures of it. Savor it.

It didn't happen.

A few years later, I was at Mahopac High for a dance recital in the theater. I was briefly able to find it and smiled at seeing it. I felt proud. It was 1990 or 1991, and it was a big deal to me. It was the first time I'd ever seen my name engraved on a plaque like that and it was hanging in my high school.

The picture Rob sent is now a keepsake. I realize my reaction reeks of Al Bundy scoring four touchdowns for Polk High. I also realize that it can be easy to mock bowling as a varsity sport but know that I was extremely proud of it.

Friends had talked me out of giving baseball another shot for various reasons and, overall, no regrets. I would have been nothing more than a bench player and probably an easy target.

I gave bowling a shot as a whim and, no, I wasn't particularly good at it.

But I loved it. Literally every minute of it.

So that pride bubbled to the surface seeing that plaque again for the first time in over 30 years.

Thank you, Mahopac.

Thank you, Rob, for the picture.

Long may it hang for future students to wonder who the heck that bowling team was. 

I'll be happy to explain.