Beyond the Byline: At the Ash Diamond, sometimes it wasn’t pretty

WILKES-BARRE — Back in the day, every town had a baseball field that wasn’t maintained by the town.

These were special ballparks that were use for all sorts of activities, like recreational softball league.

In Plymouth, we had the Ash Diamond, a grass-less field nestled next to the flood protection levy that sparkled when the sun hit all of the glass particles that gave it a diamond-like glow.

And there were many glorious battles waged on this field, waged by players who were best classified as has-beens, never-wases, or never-would-bes.

These were warriors,fueled by hops and barley, and who possessed a competitive spirit akin to the gladiators of ancient Rome. Yes, the Ash Diamond was our Coliseum.

And I personally witnessed athleticism not often seen in any sport. Most of these feats were intentional — some were not. Yet, intentional or not, they were done with grace and agility and often resulted in pulled muscles and grimaces,

But the best way to describe these ballplayers were that they were gamers — always. They came to play every day and gave their all — figuratively and sometimes literally.

Win or lose, the played their best, never losing sight of the quarter-keg on ice down the left field line.

So when I drove by the Ash Diamond the other day, I saw that it was still intact — in fact, grass has grown miraculously where dirt, gravel and glass once covered the playing surface.

I could see my first-ever softball team, Shawnee Auto Sales, and the player/manager, a guy named Trout. I remember Tom “Mucker” McTague, a left-handed throwing outfielder, throwing the ball to me at shortstop. The ball started out to my left and ended up far to my right. If Mucker could ever throw that pitch with a baseball, he would have been in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

I remember my pal John Hudak hitting home runs that went as high as they did far. And I remember Reese’s Tavern with a bunch of guys named Mullery and Barbose and McDermott and I recall the Octagon Bar with their precision, hitting them where they ain’t time after time.

Our manager was Harry “The Hawk” Yurch. He called his team “a motley bunch of crew.”

And that we were.

A bunch of guys, friends/pals, who had marginal athletic successes growing up, were now assembled as a team sponsored by Lower End Pizza, courtesy of the owners, J.C. Born and George Dervinis.

We played hard. We played ugly. We won.

And despite what some will say — like my good friend Jack Barbose — we won the title, I believe, in 1971.

I’m not sure how popular softball leagues are today. There doesn’t seem to be the same level of interest that grew out of the 1970s and blossomed in the 1980s and 1990s. There were leagues everywhere and some guys played on several teams.

Many of the stars of the past are still playing in leagues for over-50, over-60, and over-the-hill. These guys still can play and they represent a once-great era.

My friends John Macko, Tanky Matthews and Butch Frati, for instance, were some of those great players. Macko and Matthews played for Hoffman Blue out of York, sponsored by Bob Hoffman, owner of York Barbell.

Softball became huge for a long time.

I really miss those days, especially the times at the Ash Diamond.