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Face masks amid the art: New York City’s museums to reopen

Ex-UConn star, top NBA sixth man Cliff Robinson dies at 53

WILKES-BARRE &mdash; Back in the day, kids grew up outside playing.
				For me and my pals, it was mainly sports.
				We had a basketball hoop nailed to a big oak tree in my backyard. It had two levels &mdash; the upper level was regulation &mdash; the basket was 10 feet from the ground, sort of. The lower level, well, the basket was a bit higher. We tried not to take many shots from the lower level.
				For football, we used any open space. We didn&rsquo;t have yard lines, just end zones. We never measured off 100 yards. We just ran plays and threw the ball. We began with clean &ldquo;play pants&rdquo; and returned home with grass stains that challenged our mother&rsquo;s ability.
				For baseball, well these were special places. My backyard was the Wiffle Ball stadium. Reynolds Street was where we played stocking ball with wooden bats and balls made of socks sewn together by my mom.
				For real games, we went to the Barnes Street field where we used rocks for bases and hit into the woods. Or we used the Nottingham Street Elementary School where a high wall kept the ball from hitting nearby houses.
				And we had our Plymouth Little League field, a real gem that was maintained as well as Yankee Stadium. The volunteers of the Little League knew what they were doing.
				As we got older, we would then need a bigger space. Our bigger place was Community Park, now known as John Mergo Community Park, named in honor and memory of the legendary Plymouth coach.
				Over the years, several men volunteered their time taking care of Community Park.
				John Alden was the fist man I remember cutting the grass and raking the infield dirt. Mr. Alden was a master at his work. As kids, we never really appreciated all that he did. All we knew is that our field was in perfect condition and we didn&rsquo;t have to worry about bad hops.
				Tony Stush Gayson was another man that took excellent care of Community Park. Stush was my dad&rsquo;s friend. He also coached me in Little League, teaching me many fundamental facts about the game. Stush was meticulous about Community Park. He made sure the playing surface was as good as any field anywhere.
				Paul Proski also had cared for Community Park over the years. He was another master of his trade. Like Mr. Alden and Stush, Paul just knew how to care for grass and turf and the field was always in great shape.
				John Vengien also cared for the field. John was a proud man who worked as a coal miner. He helped grow the Plymouth Teeners&rsquo; League, which played in Community Park. John worked hard and was always around when needed.
				All of these gentlemen devoted countless hours making sure our field was not just ready to practice or play on, but that it was in the very best possible condition.
				As my fiend George Toma likes to say, they gave it their all &mdash; and then some.
				Toma, from Edwardsville, has been the head groundskeeper for every NFL Super Bowl. Toma got his start at Artillery Park back in the 1950s. He&rsquo;s regarded as the very best in the business.
				But Toma and Alden, Gayson, Proski and Vengien all shared a common trait &mdash; they sincerely cared about how they cared for their respective baseball fields.
				Most towns had guys like this. Guys who would volunteers their time and help cut the grass or line the fields or clean dugouts. They wanted to make the fields in their towns the best they could be for the kids in the town. It was because of the selfless acts of these men and women that added to the quality of life in their communities.
				And their passion was passed down to their kids and to guys who played on those fields of dreams.
				I remember one day that my Teeners&rsquo; team was scheduled to play an important game with first place on the line. It had rained in the morning and early afternoon. I went to the field &mdash; Community Park &mdash; and there were puddles on the infield. There was one at third base, another at home plate and one at shortstop.
				I wanted to play the game. So I got the idea of getting some gasoline, poured it on the puddles and lit them on fire.
				It worked. The water was burned off the field. I threw some dirt around, raked it and we were good to go.
				When I was done, I noticed Stush standing on the hill looking at me. He asked me where the heck I got that idea.
				&ldquo;From you,&rdquo; I said.
				He just smiled.
				Community Park was ready for the game, just like it always was for decades.

Beyond the Byline: Fighting water with fire worked