POST FIVE: A TOUGH CROWD

I was 17 and a bunch of the guys from East Boston agreed to temporarily drop the hostilities between neighborhoods and form a combined “Eastie” football team. The stories from that escapade could go on and on, like the time we played a team from Dorchester against a bunch of grown men in their 30’s and 40s. They had cases of beer on the sidelines. Some had kids in their teens (even though theoretically, there was an age limit of 18 in the league) or like the time we took on a prison team in a prison. But I will spare you and keep it short and to a game we played against the North End in the North End.

There were no bleachers in those days. The spectators were just about all from the North End. They were loud, and there were plenty of them. They crowded the out of bounds area but stood back a bit … “out of respect for the game”.

I was playing defense on our left side. One of their backs got past everyone and was heading straight for me. It was pretty-easy for me to tackle him out of bounds, so that’s what I did. We both rolled on the ground, but before I could get up, a group of older women rushed me screaming in Italian and punching and kicking. One of them took off her shoe and hit me with it. Now that’s a tough crowd. I call them older women, but the truth is they were probably in their 40s and 50s but to a kid at 17 … well you know what I mean.

That’s one of the greatest moments in my sports career which was severely limited and very short.

I love the North End and the Feasts with the sweet sausages and the cannoli pastries. But it’s the people there that have a warm spot in my heart. They are what they are and too bad if you don’t get it.