Bobby Valentine - Valentines Way: My Adventurous Life and Times

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

ISBN: 978-1-63758-094-3

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-63758-095-0

Valentines Way:

My Adventurous Life and Times

2021 by Bobby Valentine and Peter Golenbock

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Permuted Press, LLC

New York Nashville

permutedpress.com

Published in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to all the wonderful people and teachers who have made my life so exciting. My family and friends in Stamford. My teammates, coaches, players, and front office staff from all the teams that I had the opportunity to be with. To the late great Joe Romano and his family. To Paul Pupo, Frank Ramppen and his wife Michelle, Mike Allegra, Tom Kelley, Manganese Balthasar aka Max, and all the hard working people who kept the restaurants going for such a long time. Pete Moore and Paul Checkeye and many others who ran the Texas restaurant operation. A special thanks to Koji Takahashi and Shun Nakasone who made my years in Japan so exciting. My brother Joe, sister-in-law Patti, and their family, and, of course, Mary and Bobby Jr. A final dedication to a few who are no longer with us. Thank you to Chris Sabia, Ann and Ralph Branca, Mickey Lione, Tom Robson, Billy Buckner, my mom, Grace, my dad, Joe, and one last time to Tommy Lasorda.

Contents

I am a very lucky guy, and my luck began on October 10, 1910, when my grandfather, John Valentine, left Ellis Island and headed for Stamford, Connecticut. John was a mechanic from Naples, Italy, who had fifteen dollars in his pocket, according to the manifest I received from Governor George Pataki in 2001, when I was Grand Marshal of the Columbus Day parade in New York City.

Like many immigrants of that era, my family did not talk about the place theyd left because they were so excited about the new opportunities that lay ahead. My mom and dad met in the self-proclaimed Baseball Capital of the World, and I am so fortunate they did. The wooden outfield wall at Cubeta Stadium, where I played many of my youth games, had this slogan plastered across center field: Welcome to StamfordThe Baseball Capital of the World . Baseball was played and enjoyed in Stamford from the early 1900s, and many of the early immigrants, especially after the war, used baseball as a rite of passage. I owe a debt of gratitude to those who came before me and to my friends and unbelievably supportive family that helped me along the way.

All four of my grandparents spoke Italian and very little English. They all passed away during my childhood. My dads mom was the last to go. Her three-family house in the center of the town was the gathering place for Sunday dinner with most of the family. I remember watching the Beatles on Ed Sullivan there with many of my cousins. I also remember my grandma saying, with my Aunt Clemey translating, how proud she was to read a headline with Valentine in it that didnt involve the police. I had just thrown a no-hitter in the Little League All-Star Game, and it made the paper. I felt so happy that she was proud of me.

When I was a teenager, my sports schedule didnt allow time for the family dinners, so my mom took over the cooking. And take over she did. My mom always had a job. She worked a forty-hour week and, along with my dad, who worked at least eighty hours, did everything in her power to run our house well and care for her family. She belonged to all the school, church, and team groups, and was always generous with her time and expertise. Much of what she gave was love to my brother Joey and me. She always went out of her way to make everyone we came in contact with feel like they were part of our family. I said I was lucky, but I would need another entire book to explain just how wonderful my family and friends were to me my entire life.

W hen my grandparents first arrived in America, Italians were as far down the totem pole as you could get. My uncles and aunts told me they were discriminated against, so they raised their kids not to be Italian. My folks were here to be Americans. My dad had three brothers and two sisters, while my mom had three brothers, and everyone lived in Stamford.

I was part of a great family unit. My dad Joseph, who did fine carpentry work, was a workaholic who toiled day and night. After working during the day, he went to his workstation in our basement after dinner and did more work!

My mother, Grace, was the greatest mom who ever lived. She cooked for everyone, volunteered in our schools and at church, as well as working a full-time office manager job. She smiled all the time and never missed a pitch, let alone a game.

I was born in Stamford Hospital on May 13, 1950. We lived at 39 Melrose Place, a small five-room house, consisting of my parents bedroom, the bedroom for my brother and me, a living room with a couch and a TV, a bathroom, and a kitchen where we ate all our meals.

St. Clements Church was right around the corner. One of the highlights of the summer was attending Stamford Twilight League baseball games after Mass, in which many of the stars of past championship Stamford teams played. There were many: Mickey Lione, Jr., Andy Wasil, Ron Parente, and my future agent, Tony Attanasio, to name a few. I cherish the memories of being at these games with my dad.

My dad was always working, even Sunday after the games, but somehow found the time to be at my games, and I mean every game. I was lucky to have him as a dad. Along with Joe and Mom, they were truly the best team in town.

The Twilight League was the best live baseball I got to see as a kid. I only went to a professional game twice as a youth. I have vague recollections of my first game. I was told it was YankeesRed Sox, but the only thing I remember was we were behind a steel beam and couldnt see much from deep right field. Obstructed-view seats were sold in those days, and thats what we could afford! The other game came during my senior year in high school, also at Yankee Stadium. More about that later.

My brother Joe, a catcher, was a very good athlete, but his motivation was more about making money. When he was nineteen, he worked as a tool-and-die maker and was able to buy himself a very cool Chevy Chevelle.

Stamfords Waterside, where we grew up, was the perfect place in the 1950s and 60s. It had a Melfair Market, our church, and Southfield Park. There was also a small beach on the Long Island Sound. I never went to the beach. Summertime was for playing baseball. My brother always let me play with him and the older kids in the park, which became my second home once I was able to ride my bicycle there to play with whoever was there. The parks superintendent was Mr. Franchina, who made sure there wasnt too much fighting.

The kids of that era felt they had to have a fight every now and then. Theyd meet behind the school or the church, and you would always get wind about who was fighting and where and when. My brother was with a group of guys who could handle themselves.

When I was in junior high school, in the mid-sixties, I snuck into Boyle Stadium to watch a Stamford High football game. After the game, different groupsgangs, you could saywould meet at different locations and duke it out. One of the toughest guys I ever walked past was Julo Jakuti. His German shepherd was even meaner than he was. Julo, who always wore black and had a black motorcycle that you could hear coming from around the corner, would always be in fights, and wed go watch him fight, for entertainment.