Garza gets 21 points, No. 5 Iowa tops No. 25 Wisconsin 77-73

126593399_web1_Update-37

Times Leader P.M. Update: Sunday, March 7

All I can say is that my dad deserves to be honored by induction into the Luzerne County Sports Hall of Fame.

He is part of this year’s class of inductees, making me very proud.

I know he deserves this because I was there for many of those years when he exemplified what it means to be a father, a coach, a community leader and an American patriot.

I have many fond memories of my dad and his unwavering dedication to fairness. He would never say or do anything to harm a person’s feelings or their chances to be all they could be.

When I was maybe 10 years old, my dad hung a stocking ball from a branch of our cherry tree in our side yard on Reynolds Street. He measured it to be at my waist level, assuring that I would develop a level swing at the ball. Dad would stand there and watch me take swing after swing after swing as I labored to get my swing where he felt it should be to enable me to hit the ball.

It worked.

Dad would also play catch with me when I was trying to learn how to become a pitcher. He would say: “OK, rock back, turn, push off with your right foot, throw and follow through. Again, same thing, same words, over and over and over.

And this worked too. So well, that more than a few times my fast ball would knock my dad off balance and he would end up on his keyster. For those of you that do not know, my dad wore a wooden leg. He lost his right leg in World War II when he stormed a beach and stepped on a land mine as he engaged the enemy in Northern France.

Yeah, he was a remarkable man.

But he was also relentless in his determination to teach me how to hit and how to pitch.

Now fielding the baseball was more of a challenge for me. So dad enlisted his good friend, Tony “Stush” Gayson to help. Dad said he couldn’t figure out how to get me to stop kicking the ball out of my glove when I bent down to pick it up.

Stush had an answer.

With dad’s help, Stush tied a cinder block to my left leg. This prevented me from bringing it forward to kick my glove and lose the ball.

Again, it worked.

When it came to basketball, my dad applied one basic rule — the same words he would repeat when trying to get me to hit or field a baseball. Dad would say: “You can’t hit what you can’t see.” In other words, keep your eye on the ball or, for basketball, the hoop. Very simple, basic rule, but very effective.

Dad was a special guy, for sure. He and his pal, Joseph “Shep” Chepulis, co-founded Plymouth Little League in 1950. Both remained involved their entire lives. Dad was President/Commissioner/Player Agent every year, except for the four years I played in the league. Dad didn’t want even the hint of favoritism to be shown toward his kid.

Dad and mom taught me well. My only regret is that I didn’t have them in my life long enough. Mom died at age 42 and dad was a week shy of his 73rd birthday when he passed.

But they managed to give me all I needed to live my life.

I will be at the Plymouth Borough Council meeting Tuesday night when they read a proclamation in honor of my dad’s induction into the Luzerne County Sports Hall of Fame, which by the way, is a first class group led by Jim Martin.

I will be there to represent my dad and my mom and all that they taught me, but more because of what they did for the betterment of their community.

Like so many others, my parents were part of an era — part of that Greatest Generation — that made this country as great as it is — one community at a time, one day at a time, one lifetime at a time.

Beyond the Byline: Hall of Famer, my dad