Lying  on the beach and thinking…

…Lou Gehrig said it first but I’m feeling it today. I am “the luckiest person on the face of the earth”! Fully recovered from two rounds of life-threatening brain surgeries, married to the woman of my dreams and now I have the handsomest grandson of all time! (oh yeah… and his parents are pretty great too!)

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My moment in the Sun!

Struck out the side in my one inning relief. To this day (a half century later), I am unable to figure out why I never got another chance to pitch.

Oh well, that was it for the lone highlight of my little league baseball career.  Very glad hockey worked out better…

 

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Near to Greatness

Over the last half century I have had the honor of meeting and interacting with so many greats in Boston sports. First and foremost, I am humbled and privileged to tell friends and family (and for that matter, anyone else who will listen) that I was so very fortunate to have played against hockey Hall-of-Famers Bobby Orr (hockey) and Ray Bourque (softball). When I first skated onto the ice at hockey camp (mentioned above), there were NHL stars with familiar names like Parent/Kelly/Selby/Hodge and one young blond crew cut instructor who had yet to play his first game, but whose reputation and potential were off the charts. I’m sure by now you know where I am going with this and I’ll get back to Mr. Orr later in this book.

While playing men’s league softball in Arlington I had just taken my customary position behind the plate when I looked up at the smiling face of one Mr. Raymond Jean Bourque. I remember trying to knock him off his game by kidding with him (like I could every really do that) that without a hockey stick in his hand he wasn’t going to be able to get a hit. After nearly taking our shortstop’s head off with one of the hardest hit line drives that I have ever seen, he reached first and turned to give me a wink that simply said “I told you so!”

I ran into Celtics’ legend Tommy Heinsohn outside a Southie dinner (in 1985) while on a sales call for Zep Manufacturing and he signed an autograph for Keith Anthony that said, “By the time you are old enough to read this, you’ll say who is this guy?” (I always thought he had a great sense of humor!).

After a hard day at work (Leading Edge in Canton) we usually adjourned to Shenanigan’s Pub across the street for burgers and beers. Imagine my surprise when standing next to me in line was none other than the undisputed middleweight champion of the world, Marvelous Marvin Hagler.

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Little League Nightmare

 

Growing up 12 miles from Fenway baseball was a very big deal in Lexington and I was determined to give it my best shot. Opening day was a major event with a parade through the center of town and players from all the teams lining both baselines (think opening day at Fenway for all its pomp and circumstance and you wouldn’t be far off). There is where it went from bad to worse. My shiny, new all-white uniform had arrived in the mail. I was so excited to try it on and then so sad when the pants did not fit. My late mother, in her infinite wisdom, decided (glad you are not here to read this Ma) said she could fix them; so I let her give it a shot, but all she had was gray material to use. So what ended up happening was that 100 Little League baseball players lined the first and third baselines at the Center Field in Lexington, and 99 had perfectly pressed sparkling white uniform pants. I had white pants with a large gray patch directly in the center of the posterior. With a last name of Guernsey (rhymes with cow) and being rotund in places where I shouldn’t have been, the laughter and humiliation were complete.

This was my most embarrassing moment but surprisingly not by that much. In little league baseball there was a rule that everyone had to play. This made the coaches unhappy but the players (especially the lousy ones lie me!) ecstatic. My coach sent me out to right field (told you I was the bench warmer money can buy) with a great deal of trepidation and the sincere hope that no one would actually hit the ball to me. If you are unfamiliar with LL ball, it is where the coaches put their worst players in hopes nothing to awful will take place. Unfortunately for him it did. One of the first batters that came up to bat after I went in the game lined one way over my head and hilarity ensued. I ran (waddled?) back after the ball when my cap flew off. Instead of continuing to pursue the ball, I stopped and went back after my lid. Only after retrieving my hat did I resume my pursuit of the ball. Suffice to say that by the time I retrieved the ball my opponent had long since circled the bases and I was unceremoniously yanked from the game. The only saving grace is that there was no AFV or YouTube to record this monumental faux pas.

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October is breast cancer awareness month…

In support of this great cause, We will be donating $1 to cancer care and research for every copy of my new book ordered through the end of the year! Readers are saying it is a “well written masterpiece” and makes a great stocking stuffer! (never too early to get a jump on that holiday shopping!)Thank you for your time, Keith
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Please help us out by spreading the word to all your family and friends!

Confessions of a Beantown Sports Junkie

Over the last half century I have had the honor of meeting and interacting with so many greats in Boston sports. First and foremost, I am humbled and privileged to tell friends and family (and for that matter, anyone else who will listen) that I was so very fortunate to have played against hockey Hall-of-Famers Bobby Orr (hockey) and Ray Bourque (softball). When I first skated onto the ice at hockey camp (mentioned above), there were NHL stars with familiar names like Parent/Kelly/Selby/Hodge and one young blond crew cut instructor who had yet to play his first game, but whose reputation and potential were off the charts. I’m sure by now you know where I am going with this and I’ll get back to Mr. Orr later in this book.

http://amzn.com/1503101797

http://amzn.com/1503101797