124796633_web1_AP17-438822-cmyk

AG Shapiro issues alert: Watch out for unemployment scams

124803100_web1_Bilko

On This date: Nanticoke native Steve Bilko quiets biggest critic with solid 1961 season with LA Angels

WILKES-BARRE &mdash; Self-isolation leads to reminiscing, at least it does for me.
				I&rsquo;ve never forgotten where I came from, and I think about my parents every day. My mom has been gone for nearly 52 years &mdash; my dad close to 25.
				I miss them every single day.
				Yet they are with me every day too. They are with me in my thought, my deeds and my beliefs. They instilled in me many things, one of those traits being a love of community and the people in it.
				So, let me tell you a story.
				When I was a kid, my dad was determined to teach me how to play baseball. He would take me in our side yard and let me pitch to him, all the while coaching me on my technique &mdash; ricking motion, eye on the target, follow through.
				He did the same with hitting, hanging a stocking ball &mdash; sewn together by my mom &mdash; from a branch of our cherry tree. It was waist-high, to assure I developed a level swing.
				The hard work paid off, I became a pretty good player &mdash; peaking in Little League.
				I also loved to play basketball, and for a while there, I thought I might go far. At age 11, I was 6-foot tall. Coaches thought I was going to be a 7-footer. But sadly, I stopped growing vertically and well, I got bigger horizontally.
				But my mom and dad supported me through my brief, yet somewhat decent, careers in Little League and basketball. They never missed a game. And they never criticized my coaches. My dad always said listen to what the coach says. And I did.
				So when my playing days were over, I was approached by Stanley Grontkowski who convinced me to take a team in the Plymouth Teeners&rsquo; League &mdash; the United Pants. I later coached the Plymouth Lettermen squad. And I also was an assistant coach for the Plymouth American Legion team.
				Those were great times, for sure. I became the president of the Wyoming Valley Teeners&rsquo; League Baseball organization and held that position for more than 25 years. We had an all-star tournament for kids 14 and 15 and another tourney for 13-year-olds.
				After the tournaments, we held a banquet, giving out spiffy trophies and other special awards.
				Here&rsquo;s a key part of this story.
				When the late Edward and Marie Christian retired from running Teeners&rsquo; League Baseball, there was a gap of a couple of years when things weren&rsquo;t so good. When I got involved, I met with the representatives of every league and asked what we needed to do. I was told that we had to bring the annual banquet back because the kids really enjoyed it. There was a two- or three-year absence of a banquet after the Christians left.
				But to hold a banquet, you need sponsors and you need an attraction, like a big league player to speak.
				One day, I stopped at the offices of Frank Orloski, who used to own a lot of convenience stores/gas stations in the region. I had been told Mr. Orloski was a big Phillies fan.
				Unannounced, I asked if I could see Mr. Orloski. After a few questions as to why I wanted to see him, I was taken to Mr. Orloski&rsquo;s office.
				I was young. I was scared. I was desperate.
				After I nervously presented my case, I asked him if he could help us get a speaker for our annual banquet.
				Mr. Orloski looked at me and told me that he would provide a representative of the Phillies for the banquet, but under one condition &mdash; that he serve as the master of ceremonies.
				At that moment, I stopped sweating and I felt a tremendous sense of relief.
				For many years after that, Mr. Orloski always provided a speaker from the Phillies, and he always did a tremendous job as our MC.
				This was such an example of one man, one family, helping an organization that helped so many kids over the years. The speakers, players like Larry Bowa, Tug McGraw, Del Unser and many more provided great speeches that I&rsquo;m sure are still remembered by all in attendance.
				But here&rsquo;s the kicker. Before I went to Mr. Orloski&rsquo;s office, I asked my dad what he thought about my plan to make a request to someone I had never met before.
				&ldquo;Do you think your organization is doing a good job?&rdquo; my dad asked. &ldquo;Well then, ask the man. The worst he can say is no.&rdquo;
				My dad knew. Like he knew how to make me a better pitcher and a better hitter. He just knew.
				This self-isolation is good for some self-examination.
				Stay safe.
				/

Beyond the Byline: Thanks dad, thanks Mr. Orloski