My father, the late Antone Medeiros, was big into local sports. He earned his nickname “Hawk” when he played football and could kick the ball straight “with the eyes of a hawk.” I suppose having that keen vision was helpful when he played softball. There he is above with his trademark cowboy hat.
Later, Dad would go onto to coach area youth sports teams, including peewee football, girls softball, and boys and girls basketball — for that, he would tell his players “elbows up.” I was an adult and living elsewhere, but I heard he gave players silly nicknames. During his wake in 2015, I asked those going through the receiving line what my father called them. Of course, they remembered. In his lifetime, Dad received many awards, including the town of Fairhaven naming its rec. center in his honor.
By the way, he had zero interest in professional sports.
But in this post, I want to concentrate on the years Dad played and coached softball. Of course, that was through the Livesey Memorial Club, of which Dad was a founding member. The club had a softball league, and Dad was on its team. Other teams were sponsored by local businesses, including bars. The league was based close by at Livesey Park in North Fairhaven.
The park had a long bench for spectators although my mother brought a chair for more comfortable sitting as she kept track of the score on a piece of paper. She liked being engaged. Sometimes we kids walked along the bench or even sat there, watching our father pitch or coach from the sidelines, typically when the game was winding down. Afterward, we would head home or out for ice cream.
Until we were old enough to stay home on our own, my siblings and I kept ourselves occupied on the playground’s equipment along with other kids. Or we played tag or some other chasing game on the large sloping lawn behind Oxford School, where I went. We jumped rope on the sidewalk. Two of us held the ends of a long rope while someone jumped. We sang songs with funny rhymes like “Cinderella,” which began “Cinderella kissed a fella.” Or we played hopscotch. I recall lots of skinned knees.
Basically, we kept ourselves busy and out of trouble while Dad’s team played.
I did have a tiny role in Dad’s sports interests, an inspiring one it turned out. One of Dad’s responsibilities was to submit the week’s standings for the Livesey softball league to the New Bedford Standard Times, which ran them in the sports section. At some point, maybe in fifth or sixth grade, Dad would dictate a brief writeup that I transcribed on paper in the careful penmanship I had then. Perhaps my mother wasn’t available to do it.
I recall a few times Dad drove me early in the morning before school started to the Standard Times in downtown New Bedford. He asked me to hand-deliver the league’s writeup to the sports desk. It was easier than finding a parking spot in what was then a busy downtown.
I made my way upstairs to the newsroom, which at that time of day had empty desks. The only person working was a man in the sports department. I passed desks containing piles of papers and typewriters before I handed him the sheet of paper.
Looking back, I honestly believe those write-ups and early morning visits sparked my interest in becoming a journalist, a career that I enjoyed over 35 years, although that didn’t happen until much later in life. Thanks, Dad, for the inspiration.