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July 28, 2009
A Remembrance...
Hello All,
Today marks the one year anniversary of the passing of my father, Henry "Bob" Margarita. I thought I'd republish this piece I wrote one year ago today. There's not a day goes by that I don't think of him.
The quote says that “Some are born great, some achieve greatness and others have greatness thrust upon them.” Somehow it seems that my father, Bob Margarita, who passed away on Monday, July 28 at age 87, managed to fit into all three categories.
He died peacefully at home surrounded by his children whom he dearly loved and who dearly loved him, along with his beloved dog Jake.
My siblings and I are of course saddened at the loss of our father, but we have also been able to share numerous smiles at the many wonderful memories we have of him. Though his soft voice and gentle manner will no longer grace our presence, his presence in not only in our lives, but the lives of so many whom he touched throughout his long life, made an indelible impact.
As a child, I know I bragged about his storied athletic career. That’s a pretty natural thing for a boy; to confuse his father’s athletic success with greatness. Children always see professional athletes as heroes, as do many adults.
A star athlete at Medford High, Brown University and then the Chicago Bears, my father also was scouted as a catcher by the Detroit Tigers and took infield with them when they came to town to play the Red Sox at Fenway Park.
When his playing days were over, he became a football coach at many colleges including Harvard, Yale, Boston University and took a Georgetown team to the Sun Bowl, while at the time, the youngest college head football coach in the country. So you see, I had plenty to brag about.
As I grew up I got to see that the true measure of his greatness wasn’t in his professional career, but in the way he lived his life and loved his family.
After a successful second season as a running back and defensive back with the Chicago Bears, he retired to spend time with my mother and their son Bobby, who suffered from spina bifida. He did come out of retirement when the Bears asked him to as they were heading toward the 1946 NFL Championship. After the Bears won the championship game my father retired from playing for good.
Having an intimate knowledge of George Halas’ famed T Formation, he was one of the most sought after college football coaches in the country, but knowing my mother wanted to stay close to her roots, he bypassed numerous high-paying jobs at big-name colleges to stay fairly close to home. How many of us would do that?
During a brief stint as a teacher/coach at Wayland High, the principal came into his class one day to tell him that he had a phone call from Los Angeles in his office for my father. A long distance phone call from LA was a pretty big deal in those days. My father returned and explained that the call had been from the owner of the Los Angeles Dons of the new All America Football Conference, an attempted rival to the NFL.
He explained to the principal that the Dons had offered him a contract of $40, 000, an incredible sum for the time, to come out of retirement and play for them. The principal was stunned when my father told him he had declined the offer.
He continued to turn down lucrative coaching offers to stay in the area. At one point, he took a job as a salesman, which paid reasonably well. As he explained to me one day, he realized that he wasn’t happy in that job and really just wanted to be and belonged on a football field, so when the opportunity to coach again came along, he jumped at the chance.
He finally got what I think he thought of as his dream job when he was hired in 1964 as a teacher and football coach in his hometown of Stoneham, Ma. This would cement his local legend status.
As a teacher, he was often assigned the tough kids because, as a former administrator once explained to me, he was “the only one that could handle them.”
Perhaps his stocky build and powerful forearms helped, but more likely it was his gentle nature and the fact that he treated them fairly and with respect, which I know they recognized because some of them told me that.
After retiring from teaching in 1987, he took the job as equipment manager for Stoneham High Athletics. Ever-present at the school and various sporting events with one of his many dogs, he continued to be loved by many generations of students.
I couldn’t begin to count the number of times someone told me how much my father meant to them or of a kindness he did for them, such as helping them get into a certain college or getting a certain job.
After his induction as a charter member of the Stoneham High Athletic Hall of Fame (also a charter member of the Brown University and Medford High Hall of Fame), he received a note from a former student who told him how much he meant to her and that he was the inspiration for her interest in history and is a constant reader of historical novels due to his influence. He was as proud of that note as any accolade or accomplishment that he ever received in football. He showed the note to anyone and everyone who came by the house or told of the note to anyone whom he spoke to on the phone.
He had been in declining health for quite a while and spent time in various hospitals and nursing homes. Yet, he always managed to keep us laughing because I know he didn’t want us to worry about him. When he was last brought to the hospital and it didn’t look like he’d survive the day, he woke up at one point and saw my brothers Jimmy and Johnny and in a booming voice said “Jimmy, you’re not only smarter than Johnny, you’re better looking!” which of course cracked them up. He then fell right back to sleep.
When it was determined by the doctors that nothing more could be done for him, he came back to his home of “54 years” as he proudly noted to a healthcare worker, which made him very happy.
Upon being brought into the house, the first thing he said was "Hi Jake! Hi Jake!" despite the presence of four of his children. The next thing he said after looking around was a relieved "I'm home." His last two audible full sentences were "I love you" to all of us and then (I'm not making this up) "Where's Jake?"
Yes, he had quite a professional career as a player and then a teacher and coach, but it was his even more successful roles of husband, father and human being that made him without a doubt, the greatest man I ever knew.
Posted by dmargarita at 4:25 PM
July 27, 2009
P.E.D. Dispensers
Congratulations go out to former Boston Red Sox slugger Jim Rice who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame this past weekend. As for me, I spent this past weekend trying to figure out how to use Twitter.
Rice was elected in his 15th and final year on the ballot, in large part because his career batting numbers now seem more impressive as the recent sluggers of the game are being exposed as steroid cheats (Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, Manny!).
Fans act shocked about these steroid revelations, but this doesn’t seem to be that recent a phenomenon. I recall being at a Red Sox-Oakland A’s playoff game in 1988 with Sox fans taunting A’s right fielder Jose Canseco with chants of “STE-ROIDS! STE-ROIDS!” Canseco took it in stride and jokingly showed off his biceps during a stoppage in play. I’m glad total strangers don’t give me the same treatment for my obvious physical attributes due to ingestion of various substances. It would be pretty embarrassing to have total strangers come up to me and yell, “DOUGH-NUTS! DOUGH-NUTS!”
Some have tried to associate past bad behavior with steroid use. It has often been noted that Babe Ruth performed on the field after spending the previous evening performing off the field. The Sultan of Swat was noted for his affinity for alcohol and his constant (and extremely successful) pursuit of women. To equate the Babe and steroid users is absurd, because I don’t think one can classify bootleg gin or gonorrhea as “performance enhancers.”
Former Major League pitcher Jim Bouton’s 1970 book Ball Four was the first to expose the dirty secrets of the national pastime in great detail, noting that payers often used amphetamines or “greenies” to help them get through the grueling grind of coast-to-coast travel and day games after night games, or for that matter, a four hour baseball game. Whether or not those greenies helped with one’s performance on the baseball diamond, I’m not knowledgeable enough to say. I will say that if I were to have open-heart surgery, I would not want my surgeon taking greenies to “enhance” his or her performance.
Slugger Rafael Palmeiro became best known not as a hitter, but as a spokesman for Viagra, which is sort of another type of “performing enhancing” drug. After vehemently denying steroid use to congress, Palmeiro tested positive for steroids. Knowing the effects that steroids have on the male reproductive system, it begins to answer why a healthy, well-conditioned 37-year-old professional athlete would need that type of performance enhancer.
Canseco was arrested last year while trying to sneak a female fertility drug into the country from Mexico, while Manny Ramirez was suspended 50 games for using the same drug to counter the effects of steroid use. Los Angeles Dodgers officials should have become suspicious when Ramirez ordered not only a protective cup, but also a sports bra.
One group of fans this would seem to effect would be baseball groupies. What’s the point of dating these guys if they’re physically incapable of doing anything off the field?
That players look for an edge, is nothing new. Author Zev Chafets notes in his new book Cooperstown Confidential: Heroes, Rogues and the Inside Story of the Baseball Hall of Fame, that James “Pud” Galvin, a star pitcher in the 19th century who is in the Baseball HOF, ingested monkey testosterone in 1889. Galvin was known to throw a fastball, a change-up and on occasion, his own feces.
The substance didn’t seem to help him on the pitcher’s mound much, although it may have affected his health, perhaps the same effects as modern steroids, with Galvin dying at age 45, not to mention acquiring the nickname “Pud.”
This was long before the advent of the designated hitter and at the plate, Galvin was known as a “free swinger.” He’d swing at high pitches, he’d swing at low pitches and sometimes he’d swing from the hotel chandelier. But seriously folks…
Barry Bonds is said to have used Human Growth Hormone, which notably led to the increase of the size of his chest, his feet and his head. When a man in his 30’s is outgrowing his clothes, did no one become suspicious? At age 37, a man shouldn’t have to go shopping for back to school clothes.
There are some truly vile people that are in the Baseball Hall of Fame (Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, Ty Cobb!), but the steroid cheats used substances that altered their bodies to such a degree as to greatly affect not only their performance, but the statistical record and thus the game itself and for my money, don’t belong in Cooperstown.
If you’ll excuse me now, I’m off to get my Boston Cream donut.
Posted by dmargarita at 1:54 PM
July 13, 2009
Say It Ain't So, Joe!
Leave it to The Boston Herald to unleash (yes, a horrible pun) one of their sensationalistic headlines with a photo of Little Joe, The Franklin Park Zoo’s most famous resident, with the bold type “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME.”
Little Joe (the gorilla and not the late actor Michael Landon who played Little Joe on the TV show “Bonanza”) sparked quite a manhunt…er, apehunt several years ago after not one, but two escapes from the Franklin Park Zoo, although I don’t recall if the Herald’s headline at the time was “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPER!”
It seems that Zoo New England director John Linehan warned legislators in a letter that if budget cuts took place, several animals might have to be euthanized if they were unable to be placed in other settings. The implication seemed to be that Governor Deval Patrick would hover over the facilities in a helicopter with a rifle and gun down the animals as they slept in their cages. Actually, that does sound like one of Sarah Palin’s hobbies, and hey, she will soon have a lot of extra time on her hands.
On Monday the Herald quoted a spokesman for the governor as saying that “there will be no animals euthanized on this administration’s watch,” with the paper going so far as to say that Patrick “commuted the death sentence” hanging over the animal’s heads.
That seems reminiscent of an old movie and I can picture a gorilla sitting in his cage, waiting for a note from the governor to spare him the electric chair.
I'm assuming his last meal would be bananas.
With the state facing a massive budget deficit and no one anxious to raise taxes, programs will be cut and before social programs and the arts get the axe (as they invariably do), other programs may go first.
A trip to the Stone Zoo on a hot and humid (these days, more rare than some of the animals there) Sunday gave me a chance to get a good look at what we will miss if the zoo is closed.
At the entrance I immediately saw a creature that is indeed quite rare in these parts…a Yankees fan. As for the creatures inside the zoo (excluding the divorced dads having custody for the day), the results were mixed.
Longtime favorite Major the polar bear is gone, but in his place were two brown bears. Sadly, they seem to have much less room than I recall Major having, and unless their natural surroundings involved concrete in cramped quarters, I can’t imagine they were having the time of their life.
There was a bald eagle, on loan from another zoo, which was unable to fly due to the fact that he had damaged wings. They didn’t say how his wings were damaged, but I suspect fowl play. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
The cage of the river otter was a disappointment, as he or she was nowhere to be found. Hey, for $10 admission, he otter show up! (and the puns continue!).
A worker, whose name tag identified her as Sandy, standing by the cage of the gibbon responded to a question by saying “I’m not a monkey, but I think she’s comfortable.” Good thing she cleared that confusion up. I wasn’t sure what to make of it when I saw Sandy throwing her feces.
Sandy noted that the gibbon came from the Bronx and wasn’t allowed to breed because her line had been so inbred that they feared her offspring would be cross-eyed and play “Dueling Banjos” on the banjo. Okay, that last part is hyperbole on my part, but the first segment is true. Besides, who needs another Yankees fan in these here parts, anyway?
It seems the Corn Snake “feeds on mice, bats, rats, birds and her own eggs.” If it does come down to euthanizing the animals, it sounds like the Corn Snake can do a fair amount of the work.
Well, the public has been properly alarmed and I have no doubt that somehow, someone from somewhere will find the money to keep these creatures alive.
If there isn’t enough money to feed the animals, I can already see the Herald’s next headline.
“YES, WE HAVE NO BANANAS.”
Posted by dmargarita at 8:01 PM
Video Premiere!!!
Here's the long-awaited debut of my music video of my song about drinking, "Stitches & Nudity." Note the increasing amount of bandages on Dave "The Drunk Guy" as the video progresses. Hopefully, the full CD will be out this summer. Hopefully, we'll have summer.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSsPTgrEUpU
Posted by dmargarita at 6:35 PM
July 12, 2009
Some Stand Up
Hey all, just to let you know I'll be doing a guest set at Giggles Comedy Club on Rt. 1 in Saugus, Ma. this Tuesday night. No time for music, so just straight stand up. If you're in the mood and in the neighborhood, come on by.
Posted by dmargarita at 7:04 PM