The Pizza Had to be Just Right

 

I mean, wow

I want to tell you a story.

About pizza.

It was Nov 1, 2014, and I was going to have some of the best pizza I've ever had in my life.

That's what I was promised.

But first, there was work to be done.

I don't do a lot well but I can broadcast some sports to a certain degree of satisfaction. I've often felt that, whenever I can, I like to give that to those who might not get such coverage. Thus, having gotten to know Susan over the previous year, she had told me about her brother, who was the coach of St. Peter's Boys High School on her native Staten Island.

At the time, we were just about a year into what was now known as HAN Radio. I thought it would be cool if we could find an open slot and go call one of her brother Mark's games.

We agreed on an end-of-the-regular-season matchup between St. Peter's (aka "Peetahs" in a Staten Island accent) and St. Joseph-by-the-Sea (aka "Sea"). In return, Susan promised us the pizza to end all pizzas.

Initially, it was a running gag. This Staten Island pizza was going to top all of my beloved pizzas?

Better than Sal's in Mamaroneck or L&B in Brooklyn or Patsy's in Harlem or the Connecticut pizzas that I constantly hear about?

Susan believed it would hold its own. Thus I trusted her and the gag ended.

But there was another gag: joking about her father. I half-joked that if I didn't bring an excellent broadcast or -- worse -- if Peetahs lost, would I be sleeping with the fishes?

I was told that Susan and Mark's dad was nothing like that. He wouldn't be intimidating me or the crew at all.

However, her mother might have something to say.

The night before the game, Chris Erway and I called Darien and Wilton football in Wilton, CT. In honor of Craig Sager, the longtime sports reporter known for his garish suits, Chris and I dressed like him for Halloween. Susan and her daughters stopped by the booth to say hello as they went around town to trick or treat.

We finished the game and I went back to the HAN Radio studio, then situated in Ridgefield. Having been stressed out a bit that day, I enjoyed the peace of a Friday night in the office editing audio for the opening and closing of Saturday's game. It would be a New York-centric broadcast featuring music and references that made Staten Island so wonderful and so misunderstood.

On Saturday, I began driving in heavy rain. I was also way ahead of schedule as I crossed the Goethals Bridge.

A short time later, I was at St. Peter's and began nosing around the locked press box. Chris Erway and John Kovach would be along later to round out our broadcast team.

Eventually, of all things, I was invited inside the Christian Brothers' 1859 house to have coffee with the priests. They were all intrigued by the stranger from the northern New York suburbs who was there to broadcast their football game.

I can't stress enough, of all the things for me to do, but I was way ahead of Chris and John. For Chris, this was also a personal trip as his in-laws, as his father-in-law was a St. Peter's alum. They were coming in from New Jersey for the game.

I was given a tour of the school and eventually connected with St. Peter's head coach Mark DeCristoforo. Soon, Mark, Chris, John, and I were sitting at a table discussing strategy and game plans. Few coaches had ever been so open and accommodating.

We set up in the booth, did a long pregame show to review football back in Connecticut, and then opened the Peetahs/Sea game broadcast.

The people in the booth seemed fascinated by us and the way Chris and I -- with John on the field -- bounced off each other.

I got to meet Susan's dad -- "The Godfather" -- when she brought him up to the booth and joined us on the air.

The broadcast was, frankly, about as good as possible. St. Peter's won 35-28 and the postgame pizza was on.

I felt great about what we had done. Even now, I feel tremendous pride when reminded of that day.

Chris and John both passed on the pizza invitation, which was to take place around the corner at Susan's aunt's house.

Nervously, I drove there, parked, and knocked on the door that, apparently, was never used.

Susan's Aunt Kathy greeted me. Within minutes I realized I wished that this wonderful woman was my aunt.

Received warmly by all, I finally met Susan's mom.

Jane.

Lovely and radiant, especially thanks to the St. Peter's victory, she made sure I was welcomed and comfortable.

Eventually, The Godfather came in with the pizza.

Finally, I would have my chance to enjoy Joe & Pat's, one of the definitive Staten Island pizza experiences.

But, despite my hunger, the pizza would not be coming my way just yet.

Jane spoke up.

Apparently buoyed by the win and the stranger who had brought radio fame to her son, she accounted that I -- this broadcaster dude -- could not have Joe & Pat's in its current state.

You see, friends, it took a few minutes to get the pizza to the house, and it wasn't the right temperature.

Immediately, the oven was opened, the pizza went in, and I was instructed to be patient.

Not long after that, it was food time. 

Jane, her sister Aunt Kathy (and Susan) wouldn't dream of me doing what I normally do, which is linger behind and let others get food. I was pushed forward to grab the heavenly slice.

Rarely -- and I mean this -- have I ever anticipated a bite so much. What could it possibly be like?

I put my faith in Susan, who knew what she was talking about.

It was phenomenal. It stands among the best I've ever had.

I pondered eating the entire pie.

I thought Chris and John were nuts for bailing.

I questioned most of the decisions I've ever made in my life.

I ate while sitting at a kitchen table with various members of Susan's family, sitting near her father as well, who I got to know as the night went along.

Everyone there asked about me, the broadcasts, and so on but, eventually, I faded into the fabric of the evening. It was like being among family and that's as special a feeling as I know.

The rest of the night featured laughter, more aunts, cousins, and uncles, and a selfie with Susan's oldest daughter, Lucy. 

I made the long drive home feeling overjoyed for the new friends I'd made and the pizza that had to be just right.

While somewhat embarrassed I was very touched that Jane cared so much about the pizza for me. Susan told me that was special treatment and like I said, I was slightly embarrassed but also honored.

I tell you this story for the sad reason that the world lost Jane DeCrisoforo on Saturday morning. A beautiful and fascinating woman, she married Chris ("The Godfather") and raised Susan, Amy, Mark, and Megan.

They're a wonderful family who are devastated.

As I've said many times, some stories aren't mine to tell. Susan wrote an eloquent obituary and I'm sure many more words will flow from her.

This is the one story I can share -- my one encounter with Jane.

Susan was a rock to me when Nancy died three years ago.

I'm here for the DeCristoforo family. So is Sean.

We raise a pint to a true Irish beauty who, like my own mother, will always remembered by me for pizza.

I'm so glad I had that one meeting with Jane (no, I didn't call her that to her face).

And that she'd welcome me back to cover St. Peter's sports.

So long as they didn't lose.