CZ's underdog soccer-playin' Toms River East Raiders

The weekend after Thanksgiving, 1985 meant state high school football playoff games. Toms River South and Central Regional were playing away at Pennsauken and Willingboro, respectively.

And as much as I wanted to be at a high school football game, the boss didn't think me worthy of covering either game, giving those games off to our big guns, Chris getting the Central-Willingboro game and Greg, our assistant sports editor, doing the South-Pennsauken game.

However, my boss did think me worthy to send this just-turned 19-year-old out to the other side of the state for something that wasn't football.

State tournament soccer.

Yeah, I know -- it's not high school football. I'd rather have been up in the press box of a football game, but at 19 years old, I was a trooper who said yes to almost anything handed to me.

And it was the state tournament. I'm not going to resist it. I had finished up my first spring of covering high school girls soccer at the Observer, so I was somewhat well-versed on the sport. At that time, my whole idea of surviving the coverage was paying close attention to small details and recording how each goal was scored. Honestly, I wasn't well-versed in the true nuances of the sport, but I felt like I could get by.

Oh, and the team that was playing was Toms River East, and that gave me some advantages. One, it was my alma mater, two, some of the players on the team I knew from growing up in my neighborhood or having siblings that I knew when I went to the school, and three, the head coach was the loquacious Rob Czarniewski, the gentleman most everyone knew as "CZ."

CZ was the coolest coach going. I met CZ as coach Ed Polhemus' assistant coach during the girls soccer season the previous spring that saw East lose just two games and win the first-ever Shore Conference Tournament championship against Freehold Township. He was outspoken, but not to an overbearing point. And anything I needed, he could deliver for me. He was honest when it came to his team. He also walked into a terrific situation. CZ became the head coach of this East team after the team's previous coach, the very likeable Chuck Potter (also my junior year history teacher at East and one of my all-time favorite teachers at the school) left New Jersey to work at an Air Force base 75 miles outside of Kansas City.

Still, though, when the postseason began for East, they were a lower seed who would have to advance through the tournament with one road game after another. And three of the four wins to capture the NJSIAA South Jersey Group IV came via overtime shootout, the last one against standout goalie Chris Gillis and Jackson Memorial in the SJ IV championship at the school I was going to at the time, Ocean County College. (Years later, Jackson coach Mike Costa wondered aloud to me if anyone had gone into the woods to collect the two soccer balls he punted in there after his team lost.) Talk about pressure!

But after getting through all that, the next obstacle in the way would be a huge one. Central Jersey Group IV champion Hightstown was the No. 1 team in the state, according to the Star-Ledger and were 20-1-2, loaded with a ton of talent, including scoring machines Jim Barlow and John Klena. And goalkeepers Al Meyers and Rob Radigan were very, very good. Hightstown didn't get to this point of the season by just being lucky.

East had its hands full. There was no question about it. Even with a talented team that included forwards Brenden McKibbin, Rich Albers and Joe Perselli, a defense anchored by the steady Teddy Gillen, Mike Ruhnke and John Brown in the back along with goalkeeper Joe Flaherty, I still felt like I was going to be watching the final game of the Raider season, even if East had compiled an 17-5-1 record. Not a chance, I told myself.

But I'm a trooper. I'm going to see this game out in western New Jersey regardless.

Now the site of this game, I was told, was Rider College in Lawrenceville. And I left early enough on this Saturday afternoon, November 23, 1985, to head that way for what was a 1 p.m. game. Back in that time, getting to the Trenton area meant having to deal with detours as the highways were still being worked upon to connect I-195 with I-95 and I-295 properly. It meant having to get off at the Hamilton Township exit, drive a couple of miles, then hook up with the I-295 loop. Finding the exit was not a big problem and by about 12:20 p.m., I was at Rider College for the big soccer match.

One problem, though: No matter how much I walked around the campus at the college, I saw no inkling of soccer players or fans. I found the student center with a pay phone and one person inside to answer any questions I had.

"Is there a high school soccer game today here?" I asked.

"None that I know of," the young man answered back.

Greeeeeeeat. Just what I needed to hear. It's 12:35 p.m., 25 minutes from the game starting and no idea where this game was being played. Then the young man who had some familiarity with Lawrenceville suggested a couple of places.

One of those places was Mercer County Park. That's nice, but I had no idea where it was located.

"It's actually right near the college if you go down this road," he said, telling me which side of the road it was.

I thanked him and said that I had nothing to lose. He didn't really know where else they could be playing soccer. So back to the 1973 Chevy Chevelle I drove to weave my way out of Rider and back on the main highway and down the road to find the sign that pointed me toward Mercer County Park. I drove into the park, parked and began to walk around to see if I can find any idea or thought of a soccer match.

It was probably about 1,000 feet, but in the distance, I could see teams warming up. And I recognized East's black and silver colors. And as I got closer, I could see the very tall, beard-wearing sight of CZ.

Yeah, I was in the right place at long last. The teams were mere minutes from kicking it off. It took me mere minutes to jot down rosters for both teams thanks to East's managers, said my hellos to CZ and assistant coach John Crowley and then settled in to walk up and down the sidelines for the game between the Raiders and Rams.

And just as I suspected, Hightstown was really good. The Rams tested East's defense early and put as much pressure as they could on Flaherty, whose brother John I graduated with at TRHSE. But Flaherty was there to make the stops before the situation escalated out of trouble. And McKibbin had a golden opportunity in the second quarter, but his head ball was stopped by Meyers, who made 10 saves in the first half. Albers and Perselli also had golden chances, but Meyers put an end to those threats.

Through 40 minutes of soccer, it was scoreless. Maybe these Raiders had a chance after all. Maybe I was underestimating them on this beautiful Saturday afternoon with temperatures hovering near 60 degrees. The more this game went on, the more confidence they were gaining against the so-called best team in the state.

I can still see the Raiders breaking the huddle after the halftime talk with their coach and CZ looking at me with an "OK, let's see how this goes" look to him. CZ admitted to me that he had been preparing for this season since the summer and that his Raiders were as prepared as they were going to be. Maybe he had this laissez-faire attitude about him, but that told me he had confidence in his club regardless and that they had confidence in him back.

But mere minutes into the second half, things got a bit dicey for the Raiders. Barlow got free of East defenders and had a strong shot from about 15 yards away. The ball went over Flaherty's head and for one moment, it looked as if the Rams had taken the lead.

However, to show you what kind of a day it was at this park, the ball banged off the crossbar and got cleared away by Gillen.

Wow! That was all I could think at that moment. East really dodged that first serious bullet on this afternoon. Still, there was no threat in sight for the Raiders as the third quarter (games back in that time were played in four 20-minute quarters) was winding down in this scoreless battle.

Then the Raiders put a little pressure on Hightstown's defense. And it was near the end of the third quarter that the entire mood of the game changed. One of Hightstown's defenders was able to get to the ball and tap a short pass back to the second-half goalie, Radigan.

This would prove to be a mistake for the defender had no idea that McKibbin, who was a pest to the Rams' defense all day, was hanging around near the net. McKibbin pounced on the delicate pass to Radigan and intercepted it. Once gaining control, he put a shot past the outstretched Radigan that just found the inside of the outside post at the 16:47 mark of the third quarter.

East players on the bench jumped up jubilantly, while CZ and Crowley remained relatively calm. They knew there was still 3:13 left in the quarter and a whole 20 minutes after that and these Rams would be there to make things tough.

What the coaches didn't know was once that goal was scored, the entire team felt confident enough to protect a 1-0 lead. Mere moments after that goal, McKibbin had ideas of another goal, but his shot was just wide of the net.

With 20 minutes left, the Raiders were nursing the 1-0 lead. Then nearly five minutes into the last quarter, East struck again. McKibbin made a kick toward the net that was heading for a Raider teammate. Radigan made the decision to come out toward the player and was able to get a hand on the ball.

But as if bad luck was following Radigan and the Rams, there was Mike Browne trailing the play. Without a defender nearby and Radigan out of position, Browne pounded his shot past the goalie and into the net to make it 2-0.

The stunning turn of events in the last 10 minutes had East players, coaches, families and friends who were there to cheer the Raiders on believing that another trip to the state Group IV final at nearby Trenton State College was in the immediate plans.

After all, at 1-0, the game is still in the balance. At 2-0 and with the Raiders' defense hitting on all cylinders, there was no way I believed Hightstown was crawling back into this game. Klena, who scored 29 goals that season, had very little impact against Ruhnke, John Brown and Gillen, easily one of the best defending midfielders I've ever covered in the sport and who would go on to perform nationally in soccer.

With under a minute left, the outcome was obvious. But the Rams were making things interesting. They put enough pressure on East to make the Raiders commit a tripping penalty within East's scoring box. That meant a penalty shot and Barlow was called upon to deliver the kick. He was true with a shot to the left of Flaherty -- the only thing that did get by the senior keeper -- to make it 2-1. And with 40 seconds left, anything could happen.

Naaaaaah! Once East kicked off after the goal, the Raiders efficiently ran the clock out and were celebrating the 2-1 win with an unusually calm demeanor. But that was the confidence this team had -- maybe they were the only ones who thought they would win that game that sunny afternoon in Lawrenceville. And maybe it was the quiet, even-keeled demeanor of their confident coach that had something to do with it, too.

"We just come to the games to have fun," he said.

Yeah ... fun! Imagine that?

"It's a lot easier when you're the underdog," CZ continued after the game. "You can just go out there and play. We've been the underdog in every game of this tournament and most likely, we'll be the underdog for the state final."

He may have felt that way, but the way they played against the so-called No. 1 team in the state, these Raiders could have played Pele, Giorgio Chinaglia, Franz Beckenbauer and the 1970s North American Soccer League New York Cosmos.

They would find out later that it would be Westfield they would play for the state final  on TSC's Astro-turf field on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, November 27, 1985. And as if they didn't miss a beat from the Hightstown win, the Raiders captured the state Group IV championship, 3-1, over Westfield as Albers scored twice and assisted on a goal by Ruhnke. Flaherty made seven saves to preserve East's first state overall state title in any sport since the school was born in 1979.

It was a nice going-away present for CZ.

Going away present?? Yeah, as I found out first-hand after the win over Hightstown that afternoon and he had told no other media person, this was a one-and-done year for him. CZ was never comfortable being a head coach of a program and he was gladly giving up the head coaching duties to Crowley.

"I told the boys this just today," he told me on that November 23, 1985. "In the beginning of the season, my assistant coach, John Crowley, and I made an agreement to switch the head coaching position. So next year, I'll be John's assistant coach."

That's when I knew I had gotten the trust of someone that I got to cover for them to allow me to break news, even on the high school sports level.

I made my way back to Toms River to type in the story that late afternoon and gladly told Chris, who was also our boys soccer guy, "It's yours now ... but if you need someone to go out there for the state final."

That was to light a fire under his behind. It did. He got to cover East's state title win over Westfield, while I was glad to recover from working another Tuesday all-nighter at the Viking News to put out another weekly edition of the paper.

I would get to see my share of state championships over the years, so trust me, I wasn't discouraged. But this state semifinal game was something special. Though not enthused to cover the game at first, it turned out to be a memory that still lasts in my mind to this day.

Then again, a calm and collected coach like Rob Czarniewski, whose style made his players play calm, cool and collected, made it easy to want to watch the game and be there to report on it.

Thanks, CZ!

In 30 seconds, it was over

Tuesday, November 8, 1994.

It wasn't just another Tuesday. This was Election Day, the biggest day of the year politically no matter what branch of government. And in Ocean County, New Jersey, there were plenty of seats up for grabs that night.

I loved Election Night. No, not because I'm the political junkie that I am. It meant that if I had an assignment to cover at the Observer, I could cover my game in the afternoon, write it up and head on home before 10 p.m.

And this Election Day was no different. It was normally on Election Day that state tournament field hockey was going on. And, normally, one of our county teams was playing for the right to move on to a South Jersey final.

Lacey, the defending NJSIAA South Jersey Group III, was facing off with Pennsauken in the SJ III semifinal at Lacey. My boss, Mike, was my "backup" as a field hockey writer. We had rode together the year before to Trenton State College for the NJSIAA Group III title game between Lacey and West Essex, a game that ended in a 3-0 West Essex victory.

Since that game was being played on Lacey Township's field, it was agreed he would be there closer to the office so he can get back, write his game story and then lay out the section, which we needed to be done with by around 10 p.m.

I had the longer ride that day. My drive was across Route 70 to the town of Voorhees where Eastern Regional, the defending state Group IV champion, was to face off with Toms River North in the SJ IV semifinal. Though Lacey was a very, very good team, I really wanted to see North play. The Mariners were coming off winning a dramatic Shore Conference Tournament championship in overtime against those Lacey Lions in an all-Ocean County final just 11 days earlier. And now, here North was in the SJ IV semifinal with the chance to move to the championship, a game they had not played in since 1990.

Unlike a team led by stellar named seniors the year before, this North team of longtime successful coach Becky Miller was guided by players who had a chance to make a name for themselves for the first time, players like twin sisters Connie and Tracey Sadowski, forward Megan Wagner, unheralded midfielder Arathi Malliah and new goalkeeper Dawn Albruzzese.

North came in with an impressive 18-2-2 record, a record that would make most people's jaws drop.

That, though, paled in comparison to the gaudy 16-0-2 mark Eastern Regional took into this championship game with it. The Vikings, the second seed of the event behind another unbeaten power, Shawnee, were a very skilled team with a few standout players like forward Jessica Fraser, midfielder Dana Reynolds, goalie Meghann Vitt and solid defender Jessica Jaworski, the daughter of former Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Ron Jaworski.

Eastern had an unbeaten game streak of 29 going into this one. North had its hands full. All I wanted as I drove west on Route 70 toward I-295 and to the next exit and left turn off the exit toward the high school was for the game to be just that ... a game. Eastern's state title in 1993 had put the school on the state map as a power.

But there was one concern I had going toward the school -- how bad a shape was the team's field looking. In 1990, I had driven to Eastern Regional for the SJ III championship match with Central Regional and the field was horrendous, balls bouncing around like a pinball machine because of the unkempt field. Central lost that title game, 3-2. I couldn't imagine it being any worse than that November day four years earlier.

So I arrived and immediately I recognize the field is not in the same place it was four years earlier. That was a plus. Then I noticed the field immediately in the back of the school. It was in pristine condition -- no bounces, no uneven ground. It was beautiful, almost like artificial turf.

Wasn't sure at that particular moment whose hands this was playing into, but I figured I was about to watch a very competitive match. Or at least I was hoping it would be competitive.

For the first 10 minutes, it was back and forth with neither team's defense yielding to the other's offense. There was a fair share of whistles and stoppage of play. Heck, I got to understand the sport after so many years, the whistles every five to 10 seconds were secondary by now.

Then at the 14-minute mark, Eastern Regional struck and struck hard. Reynolds took a blast from outside the circle that avoided Albruzzese and into the net for a 1-0 lead. However, the Mariners got a break when the referees waved off the goal. In the sport, you need a teammate or someone from the other team to touch the ball if the shot comes from outside the semi-circle. They ruled no one from either side touched the ball and the goal was disallowed.

A big break, it turned out, for North.

But I can see Eastern beginning to gain momentum. And it was at that time the Vikings moved the ball in a smooth transition from defense to offense once again. The ball found its way to Fraser. She got it, made a move on Albruzzese and put it behind her in the net at the 18:23 mark to give the host team a 1-0 lead.

North, though, was determined to make something of the game before halftime. They collected four penalty corners in the last 10 minutes, but could not punch the ball in behind Vitt. As the whistle sounded, North players came off the field to the sideline intent to listen to what their legendary coach would say to them in the break. The Mariners were only down 1-0, and had they given up another goal, the tenor of this game may have changed dramatically.

There's still so much you can do down a goal in any sport, be it field hockey, soccer or lacrosse. What Miller was preaching was patience. She knew her team could play with this unbeaten team from southwestern New Jersey after 30 minutes.

On the other side, Eastern was huddled around its coach, talking about second-half strategy, looking confident. When you play that many games without a loss, you, too, feel invincible.

But something told me as North players passed right by me on the sideline that they had a confidence that didn't let them down. I saw some girls smiling heading back to the sideline.

Something told me they were ready for a big second half. All they needed was a break.

And so the second half began and North was starting to feeling its oats. The play was getting better on the field and part of the plan was Miller substituting in players freely in the second half. One move saw Miller put in Christine Busch. I wasn't sure what Miller had in mind, especially with Busch scoring one goal all season, but whatever it was, she felt she could contribute in some way.

The Mariners had come into this game without one of their better scorers, Erica Bergen, who had suffered an ankle injury in North's SJ IV quarterfinal win over Triton that was bad enough to keep her in street clothes. Now Miller was summoning one-goal Christine Busch in to make something happen, not confusing her by any means with the most famous Bush to ever play for the Mariners, Kim Bush, who scored 34 and 35 goals in seasons in the 1980s, the last one being North's NJSIAA Group IV championship win in 1987.

Almost nine minutes into the second half, the Vikings seemed comfortable. But they were about to get a test. North collected its ninth penalty corner of the game. The ball came out to Tracy Sadowski, who avoided one of Eastern's "flyers" on the corner, moved closer to the net and put a shot on. Vitt made the save, but the ball was still free. It found its way onto a stick that was about to redirect it into the net behind Vitt to tie the match at 1-1.

And whose stick was it? Yeah ... Christine Busch. That Christine Busch with one goal all season. That tied it up and the North fans who made the trip across the state were starting to believe. All postseason long, the Mariners' defense was starring. The goal Fraser scored was the first goal all postseason the team gave up. In winning the SCT title, the Mariner defense never gave up a goal.

Which was why at 1-1, I felt good about North's chances now. They seemed to have gotten through the early, rough patches of this one. And the teams played some intense field hockey for the next 20 minutes, neither again giving in to the each other.

And as the clock operator walked alongside the one referee counting down to zero, overtime was in sight.

Now during the SCT, North played a pair of overtime games, including the 1-0 championship win over Lacey. So the Mariners were prepared for what was to happen next. In the overtime, four field players are taken off each team, so it's a literal seven-on-seven. Normally, you put your six best stick-handlers with speed out on the field to try and make things happen. And with eight less players, the game really becomes more wide open.

North was used to it. Eastern Regional was not. The Vikings did not have a postseason tournament to play in and when a game ends in a tie in the regulation, that's it. There's no overtime. So Eastern's players were getting ready for something that was really foreign to them. The wide-open field would work to a skilled, faster team's advantage.

In this case, I knew North had the advantage. So about eight minutes after the regulation game ended, the 12 field players and two goalies hit the field for overtime. There were two 10-minute sessions to be played and if it was still tied, penalty strokes would be taken.

Eastern won the toss and decided to take the ball to start the overtime. The ball was passed on to Reynolds who was able to move up the field. She seemed to have a clearance toward a pass to a teammate, mainly Fraser. But she lost the ball.

The ever-reliable Malliah took the ball. And with Eastern heading down the field quickly to start, the Vikings did not make a quick transition back. An Eastern player was called for stick interference, giving North the ball. Eastern was still transitioning back to defense when Malliah made the quick decision to take the ball immediately and fire a pass.

That pass went to Tracy Sadowski, the heart and soul of the team's offensive side of the field. Using her speed, Sadowski broke away from her nearest defender and found herself in a one-on-one with Vitt. And as if to see her make the first commitment on the ball, Sadowski put a pass by Vitt toward an open player.

That player was Megan Wagner. Since no Eastern defenders were quick enough to get back, all Wagner had to do was re-direct the pass with her stick.

The next sound I heard were high-pitched squeals of girls celebrating in front of the Eastern net. The goal took just 30 seconds ... yes, 30 whole seconds. In 30 seconds, North was going to the SJ IV championship game for the first time in four years.

And just like that in 30 seconds, Eastern Regional's unbeaten season and streak dating back to the 1993 season were over. Some Eastern players were stunned, others just balled their eyes out.

The win against Lacey in the SCT final was amazing. The win against unbeaten Eastern was even more incredible. Miller was stunned. All she could say immediately was, "It was a picture-perfect goal. It was beautiful. We'll take it."

If you thought Busch scoring her second goal of the season to tie a state tournament sectional semifinal was amazing, the winning goal was even more of a surprise. Like Busch, Wagner had scored only one goal the entire year up until this game.

Two players who doubled their goal total on the season in the team's biggest game of the season up until then.

"We try to develop a philosophy where everybody that is sitting on the bench knows they have to be ready to go in when we need them to. I think with having Erica hurt, that was a prime example that we had to go in and fill her shoes," Miller said.

And just as Miller finished that sentence, up and over her head came the bucket filled with water and ice. She reacted like most anyone getting dumped with the contents of a water cooler. But she wasn't caring at that moment. She and her players earned their trip to the SJ IV final against top-seeded Shawnee, who had taken care of Jodie Davis- and Kirsten Sciallo-led Southern Regional, 1-0, in the other semifinal with Shawnee outshooting the Rams, 29-4, but scoring its goal on a penalty stroke by opposing goalie Danielle Vile against Sciallo.

I finished my interviews and walked back into the high school to go to the bathroom before heading back to Toms River. For the next two to three minutes, I started back-tracking to this game. Eastern Regional was the defending state champion, yet North made it look way too easy to score that overtime goal. That boggled my mind.

Three days later, North would be making the trip back out west, but not as far this time. Shawnee proved too much for the Mariners and beat them in the SJ IV final, 2-1.

I found my way back on Route 70 and drove through the boring part of the ride. The darkness was soon approaching at about 4:35 p.m. as I got to the intersection of Route 70 and Route 539 in Whiting. And as the traffic light turned green, I will always have this memory etched in my mind as I put my foot on the gas and headed out again on 70.

For one moment, I looked down in my car to check on something, though I don't remember what. When I looked back up, I swear to you all I saw were the eyes of a streaking deer go by. I could clearly see the eyes and nothing else. I will never be able to confirm if a deer blurred past my car no more than 10 feet from it. But I can still 20 years later see those eyes.

I arrived at the Observer building on Robbins Street at about 5:10 p.m. and began pounding away on the keyboard to write the story and what I had witnessed that afternoon. I got the Southern-Shawnee score from Southern coach Kathy Snyder, who was still in amazement over her team's performance despite being outshot, 29-4. And Mike told me that Lacey had dispatched of Pennsauken, 1-0, to move on to the SJ III title game.

After helping out with my scoreboard page on an early deadline, I was out the door by 9:30 p.m. and back home on Election Night. 

I will forever enjoy working on Election Day/Night at the Observer. I was always assured an early night.

And on this particular day, I was given a great finish with two unlikely scoring sources playing hero.

Yeah, I really enjoyed this Election Night.

The Halloween state tourney shocker on Raider Way

If not for the fact the teams were Shore Conference Class A South rivals, the opening round of the New Jersey State Interscholastic Athletic Association South Jersey Group IV field hockey match between 10th-seeded Southern Regional and No. 7 seed Toms River East should have been a romp.

As a matter of fact, that sole reason was the only one I could muster as to why I even remotely thought that the Rams had a chance to knock off the Raiders on their home field in this match on Halloween afternoon, Tuesday, October 31, 1995.

The Raiders were playing their first match since scoring the tying goal with 1:17 left in regulation time to tie Red Bank Regional and hold on in the overtime sessions for the 2-2 tie and a share of the Shore Conference Tournament championship on Shore Regional High School's field. The Raiders were on such a roll, you'd think they were invincible.

But Southern Regional had no reason to believe that. The Rams played the Raiders twice during the regular season. There was the match on October 9 when the Raiders took command and never let go in a 2-0 win on Southern's field. However, there was also the match on Saturday, September 23 at East that the teams played. With a minute to go in a scoreless tie, the Rams were threatening the Raiders and Jessica Corle, Southern's main scorer, tipped in a shot that was taken from outside the circle to give her team the 1-0 victory. East coaches, though, disagreed with the goal, claiming the shot came from outside the circle and was never tipped or touched, which would mean it would need someone within the circle to touch it.

The Raiders hadn't forgotten that game on their field. And neither did the Rams as they were about to face off in this state tournament opener in what would be the very last year that field hockey had the fall spotlight for girls sports to itself before girls soccer was moved from the spring season to fall. With numerous girls soccer players throughout the Shore playing the sport, this was an "end of the line" kind of season for quite a few programs.

The two programs were competitive because of their head coaches. East's head coach was Debbie Schwartz, who I had known for years thanks to her success coaching softball at East. She had taken over the Raider program in 1992 after Gail Halbfoster retired from coaching and immediately began to turn East into a top-notch team at the Shore, culminating with that co-SCT championship against Red Bank Regional. The Raiders, led by forwards Jen O'Connell, Kelly Johnson and Kelly Sherman, were like a machine now as they set their sights on making something happen in the state tournament.

Then there were the Rams, led by Corle, Jen Raban and goalkeeper Jen Racioppi. They were competitive throughout the season, but could never reach that next level and they were going into the state tournament with a mediocre 8-8-1 record. Their coach was the uber-competitive Kathy Snyder, who made her reputation as a high-level basketball coach at Southern, winning the SCT in the sport in dramatic fashion in 1984. She had taken over Southern's field hockey program in 1986 and had consistently good teams, never a great one through 1995, but good ones.

Then you look at where these two coaches came from before they became coaches. Schwartz was Debbie Dietrich when she played competitively at Toms River North for the successful Becky Miller, who she coached with on North's 1987 NJSIAA Group IV championship field hockey team. And Snyder was Kathy Leslie when she played for the great Nancy Williams at Shore Regional High School in field hockey and basketball in the early 1970s.

I've always maintained that if Becky Miller and Nancy Williams were in the same room together playing tiddly-winks that they would go at it with every fiber in their bodies with the loser taking it very hard. Williams and Miller were the two most successful coaches in Shore area field hockey history with over 1,400 wins between them, but when they faced each other in the sport, it was a display of amazing talent, like in that 1987 season when both Shore and North had great teams and the squads played to a 1-1 SCT championship tie. Neither coach walked off that North field happy that day.

And so on this dreary, cloudy day with temperatures hovering around 60 degrees, East and Southern squared off on East's field for the right to move on to the next round of the state tournament.

Since Southern had not played a game in well over a week, Snyder needed to keep her team fresh. So while East was fighting tooth and nail to gain a share of that SCT title against Red Bank Regional, Southern players were playing ... their field hockey alumni. They played against Southern girls who donned the white, black and gold uniforms back in the day, some as recent as standouts Jodie Davis and Kirsten Sciallo, who had graduated just that past June and were now at Rutgers and Trenton State (now The College of New Jersey), respectively. I was told it was a fairly intense match later on, but that the current Southern girls had won that battle.

However, they may have dominated their former players, but these Rams were having trouble with the current-day Raiders, who were taking it right at them from the start. But with each Raider shot came a field hockey ball that either trickled beyond the end line, giving it back to Southern, or a shot that was stopped on pad saves by Racioppi. And no matter how much Snyder yelled for her players to move into the right positions to stop the relentless Raider attack, East players kept on coming.

East had nearly 10 shots on net in the first 15 minutes of the game, compared to one for Southern. The only thing the Raiders didn't have was a goal. And their worlds were about to be turned upside down.

Southern charged up the East side of the field and was able to put passes together once inside East territory. Raban cut away from the goal, and put a ball within the circle that Corle, with a defender draped on her, got her stick on and placed into the net behind East goalie Karen Fox for a 1-0 lead at the 17:26 mark of the half.

From there, East kept putting the pressure on. By the end of the first half, the shots on net were in East's favor, 12-3. No goals, though, and Southern players were more than delighted to be up 1-0 at the break.

At this point, I'm fumbling through notes of the prior games and saying to myself, "This isn't going to last. East is going to bounce right back into this one."

At least I thought they should. Throughout the season, Schwartz's gang had a flair for the dramatic in games, including that late goal against the Bucs. Figured, though, it was only a matter of time before the Raiders got rolling.

Problem was that Southern's defense was very good that year. As a matter of fact, defense was what made Snyder's legacy in whatever she coached, whether it was field hockey or basketball. She knew the way to neutralize a high-powered offense was to play ball control and slow the other team down enough to ruin their patience to push the envelope offensively.

And that's exactly what Snyder's Rams did in the second half -- neutralize anything and everything the Raiders tried to put together. The Raiders had 30 minutes to mount an assault and while they kept putting shots on Racioppi, they couldn't find the back of the net no matter how hard they tried.

Suddenly, it became obvious -- the Raiders may lose this game and make history in the process by being the first team to win or share an SCT field hockey title and then lose before the quarterfinal round of the state tournament. It just seemed automatic year after year for the SCT winner to move on in the state tourney, but yet, the Raiders were watching the minutes slip away down a goal.

With less than four minutes to go, the Raiders made a couple of pushes up field. The first one ended with Southern clearing the ball away just like they had in a number of previous attempts. The second charge had a lot more positive result for the Raiders. Johnson was able to penetrate inside the circle with her teammates and a scrum took place. Somehow, Johnson was able to get the ball to O'Connell, and she beat Racioppi to tie the match a 1-1.

And just like four days earlier on that Shore Regional field, East coaches and reserves on the sidelines reacted as if they just won the Academy Award for Best Picture. With 2:53 left in regulation tie, the Raiders had tied it and were now going for the jugular. Snyder knew it. She prodded her team not to give up so close to the end of regulation. And her Rams got the message. East kept coming, but Southern kept playing the air-tight 'D.'

The clock reached zero and the teams were now in a sudden-death fight for the next two 10-minute periods with the winner advancing on. If it were still tied after those 20 minutes, a flick-off would be needed between the teams where it was the shooter taking one shot at the goalie. I had not seen one of those in quite some time. I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

So East came out first, going from the south end to the north end of their field located on the side of their building next to the parking lots, Southern going from north to south. And once again, East had the better of the play as Southern scrambled to keep the ball as far away from Racioppi as the teams had been pared down from 10 to six field players for overtime. However, one ball rolled into the circle with O'Connell coming after it. But Racioppi was there to kick it out of the circle and out of trouble. Southern, meanwhile, mounted very little of a threat, sticking to a defensive mode for the first 10 minutes.

And after those 10 minutes were up, the teams switched fields. All this time, all I kept thinking was that the Raiders were eventually going to pop the ball into the net and the game would be over. It was just a matter of time. Really, it was. They had dominated this match and the shots on goal were proving it -- East 30, Southern 4.

Yes, four shots! How much more defense can a team play before forcing a flick-off where there's no guarantee that your goalie is better than the other team's goalie in that scenario? Snyder and the Rams were seemingly playing for that. How do you get out-shot that badly and still force a flick-off? It's preposterous.

But little did I know what was about to take place within the first 35 seconds of the second overtime. East got the ball first to start the overtime, but they weren't able to penetrate beyond the Rams' circle. A Rams defender got the ball. She was able to dodge a Raider player and then, seeing a hole in the East defense on the wide-open field now that there were eight less bodies on it, put a pass into the middle of the field for Corle.

Corle was able to put a stick on it and maintain possession with a Raider defender close by. She turned on the after-burners to make a charge for the net and Fox. She had this "I don't care, I'm forcing the action" attitude as she poked the ball up the field, hoping to at least bait Fox into coming out of the net and make some kind of play on the ball.

The strategy worked. Fox came out as Corle got closer to the net. The ball was into territory that neither player was in at that moment. The first one to the ball was going to make the difference. In a matter of just under a second, Corle got to the ball first and lunged to it.

She poked the rolling ball past Fox, who was just a split-second late. The ball trickled ever so carefully toward the net. No Raider defender was there to make the play. It crossed the goal line.

Game over.

And within a second or two of that ball crossing over the line and the final whistle blowing, Southern players ran at Corle and tackled her in celebration.

East players slowly walked off the field with stunned looks on their faces. How was it supposed to end like this? East had six times as many shots on net, yet the Raiders and Schwartz were walking off their own field a 2-1 loser.

To this day, it is still one of the most stunning results I have ever witnessed in any sport due to the onesidedness of the play -- the Halloween Day Surprise.

The teams shook hands afterward and Schwartz wished Snyder well in the next round of the state playoffs. As was my nature to do in a game, I always tried to seek out the visiting team first ... in this case, the winning team. Said Corle of the goal, "The main idea is to get the ball to me. I did what the coach asked me to do. But this win was a credit to our defense. If not for them, we wouldn't have won this game."

In typical Kathy Snyder fashion, she talked about how defense made the difference in this one, knowing she had a squad that believed they could beat East again, but would have to be patient in doing so. Then she brought up the win on September 23 that East coaches questioned.

"This was an important win for us," said Snyder, one of the four best female coaches I ever regularly dealt with in my 30-year career along with Miller, Schwartz and Crescent City Junior-Senior High School volleyball coach Holly Pickens. "We won a game against East on a goal that their coaches claimed was not a goal. I know they made comments about that game and that goal, but Jessica Corle, who scored that goal, said the ball went off her stick and I had no reason to believe Jessica was lying to me. And on top of everything else, it was not going to change a thing that happened."

And, of course, Snyder was at times critical of her team's play against East, but she couldn't walk away claiming all was bad. Her team survived long enough to win a game they probably shouldn't have won. But it wasn't the first time in her amazing career Snyder had this happen.

She took the rest of what her team left behind for her to carry back to the bus. No more than a minute or so later, I walked up to Schwartz, who was still bummed about the loss and understandably so. Rarely did I ever see Debbie Schwartz get down after a tough loss, whether it was field hockey or softball. And this was the same case here. She wasn't smiling, but she knew her kids played hard enough and that the effort was there. It was just bad luck on her kids' part to not get a goal with so many opportunities.

"I don't think my girls had anything to be ashamed of," Schwartz said. "We did a great thing last week in winning (the SCT share). But after riding that wave and to start all over again, that was hard. But give Southern credit. Their goalie (Racioppi, who finished with 18 saves), played a great game in goal."

Very even-keel, the way I came to know Schwartz all those years regardless of the sport. We continued to talk about the game and the season. But no more than a minute after she had given Southern credit, a loud, blood-curdling voice came from the direction of the Southern Regional bus.

"Debbie Dietrich, get over here right now!"

I knew that voice from anywhere. And Kathy Snyder was angry about something. Schwartz's jaw just dropped when that got yelled at her, knowing the severity of that situation, especially when she was being called by her maiden name, having been married for six years at that point.

Calmly, Schwartz excused herself of what seemed like a volatile situation to walk over to where Snyder was.

So what was the Southern coach's anger about? Turns out that somewhere between the field and the bus, one of her players was pushed to the ground by one of East's backup goalies. A few months later, I confirmed with the "pusher" if it was true. Let's just say the girl, who also played for Schwartz's softball team, did not back down from the incident, claiming responsibility.

Let's also just say that girl was one of the few female athletes in my 30 years who reveled in a "bad girl" image that didn't last her long with Schwartz in either sport she played.

Southern would lose to Eastern Regional in the next round of the state tournament, and though the Rams finished with a 9-9-1, they had the satisfaction of knowing they beat the co-SCT champion Raiders two out of three times that season. It wasn't until 2002 when Snyder and the Rams would reach an SCT final, losing to her mentor Williams and Shore Regional in the title game.

Most of my memories of Kathy Snyder, who passed away in January 2014, will always be on a basketball court with her Southern Rams. But that state tournament match on Halloween Day 1995 will be how I remember her as a field hockey coach.

East's season came to a screeching halt at 12-5-3. That team was a lot of fun to cover, but suddenly, it was over for them. Schwartz would remain the team's head coach until 1998 when she gave it up to concentrate solely on softball, her sister-in-law, Julie Clark, taking over as head coach. The Raiders never reached those same heights under Schwartz in her final two years as coach as they did in '95 when everything clicked when it did.

That is, until Southern Regional came onto East's field with a point to prove.

Amazing what happens when Class A South rivals meet.

The friendliness of strangers and those you know

Friday, October 30, 2009 started as just a normal day at the Palatka Daily News. Like I had done so many times before on a Friday during the high school football season, I set up our scoreboard page, which is very involved because of the three-day television box of events since we don't have a Sunday or Monday publication.

And then after I left the building, I was on my way to Pierson Taylor High School for the annual rivalry game between provincial schools Taylor and Crescent City, separated by 15 miles along US-17.

So as I headed on US-17/SR-100 like I normally do in Palatka heading over the Veterans Bridge flanked over the St. Johns River and headed south, I was in an easy feeling. The ride I made to cover Crescent City football on its home field was 22 miles from the office. Now it was a 37-mile ride which meant I had to leave the building at 5:55 p.m. for a 7 p.m. game. You could tear down US-17 at more than 60 mph, but you couldn't do it the entire ride.

Starting out early was kind of important.

Heading down US-17, I did something that I hadn't done in quite some time. I pulled out a cassette tape out of the middle container of my car and popped it into the tape player. This was a first in some ways since I had not really needed cassette tapes to keep me occupied since I had gotten my XM radio during Christmas 2005. In other words, the cassette player was not needed anymore, sad but true.

The tape I pulled out was "The Best Of Warren Zevon," which I had in both cassette and compact disc version. October 30th marked the seventh anniversary that my sister and I had seen Mr. Zevon live in the Ed Sullivan Theater on "The Late Show With David Letterman." And it was sort of a sad occasion since he was no longer going to perform, having found out he was suffering from inoperable cancer just weeks earlier. The entire night was him as the guest.

And so on the seventh anniversary of this show, I popped in the cassette. The ride through Crescent City was a little rough, but not quite as rough as the ride through the southern end of Putnam County on US-17. The ride is a disgrace with lots of cracked roads that have never been fixed in all these years and still haven't been fixed. In 2009, the Putnam County commission agreed to a 6-cent increase in our gas purchasing, which meant we'd pay a little extra, but that money was going to go toward fixing the roads. Damned if after all these years that the road I normally travel on still haven't been fixed.

But anyway, I was starting to feel the tires under me and really wasn't liking the sound. Then the sound would kind of go away and I'd be focused in on the road and the music playing.

Then it happened – not even one mile after I had crossed into Volusia County from Putnam on US-17.

"Ba-booom!" 

Suddenly I was wondering why my car was riding funny and it didn't take long after hearing a guttural hollow sound for me to figure out the obvious ... I had a flat tire. The car started to decrease in speed ... from 55 mph to 45 to 35 to 25 and lower than that. Still, I was determined to get this car to a parking lot and not on the side of the road. There was plenty of gas in the car and I slowed the car down enough to take it yet another mile and a half before I got to a fern-producing plant in the small town of Seville.

Now I'm going to take you back further – back to August 29, 2009. For the second year in a row, I had done 10 stories on some of the smartest kids in our county that had just graduated from the local high schools and were ready to be published in our paper's Lifestyles section. The payoff for doing that was ... well, there was a payoff. My publisher, Rusty Starr, was pretty awesome to work with and he said he appreciated my work and wanted to reward me for it since it was off-to-the-side work I did away from sports during the summer season, especially when Andy, my boss, would be on vacation.

So I got a check for $500. And my commitment to the check on this day was to fix my car. I figured the brakes couldn't cost me that much. Nope, was I ever wrong. I took the car to St. Augustine to a place called Brakes-4-Less. They found more than what was the average brakes problem with the car and were willing to fix the problem ... for $397!

Yeah, I felt raped right there. But the brakes needed to be done and she ran very well, thank you. But that left me $103 to take care of the back two tires on my car that were going bald. Unfortunately, there was nowhere in town that I could take the car to get two quality tires put on for $103. My last resort was a hole-in-the-wall tire shop on King Street off of US-1. The guy was willing to put two tires on for $30 each, but they weren't going to be tires I could ride long with.

I told him to go ahead and do it and made the promise to change the tires when that time came.

Funny how all of a sudden you a) forget you have to change the tires on the car that are only there to help you temporarily and b) don't really have the money at that moment to change those tires. Living alone has a lot of benefits to it, but one of those isn't bill paying.

And now it's 6:40 p.m. on the 30th of October and I'm expected to get to a football game by 7 p.m. and I'm stuck there. Nope, this wasn't looking good.

But no more than 30 seconds after the car hobbled its way into that fern-producing plant, I look behind me and a car pulls up. Now I'm thinking, "What did I do wrong? There's just something I did wrong and this person is going to tell me."

Turns out that the car was occupied by three people – an African-American lady in her 30s and her three young children. They were right behind me after they had picked up a pizza at Domino's in Crescent City for dinner.

"You need a ride?" she asked.

I told her, "Yeah. And I need to be at this place soon."

Then she asked me where I was going and I asked her, "Do you know where Taylor High School is?" 

She said she did, though it was a little out of her way since she lived in Seville. But she was willing to take me the rest of the way. I gathered what I needed to get me to the game, which included my notepad, my binoculars for the press box, two pens and my press pass. Once I got the car locked up, I hopped into the back seat of their van.

For the next eight miles of this trip, two of her children were arguing with one another, slapping each another in the process. With my patience with children, it's amazing that I didn't snap. But I was not going to do it ... I was grateful for this woman to come into my life at that moment and pick me up in my time of need and take me to the game, even if she apologized for her kids' behavior. It didn't bother me for one moment.

She knew her way to Taylor High and I told her if she just dropped me off in the parking lot, I'd appreciate it. Without saying a word, though, she went above and beyond the call of duty: She took me as far as she could toward the football field at Taylor High. She dropped me off at an open gate at the field ... an unoccupied gate, no less. I couldn't thank her enough and wished I had something to give her. She told me to forget about it and it was her pleasure to help me out.

I smiled and left her to go back to Seville.

Now it was a simple walk through an open gate in which I didn't have to show any press credentials and I was heading upstairs to the press box. It turns out that I had missed Taylor's opening drive of the game, but the team's statistician was upstairs in the press box and he gave me what I needed play by play. I was also lucky that of all the visiting press boxes I've ever been to since coming to Putnam County in 2003 that Pierson Taylor's was the best, hand's down. I picked it up from there and the rest of the game went rather easily.

Still at halftime and with Crescent City's lead well in hand at 28-7, I needed a way to get back to the office. It's nice I made it to the game, but without a ride back, this was going to be a challenge. So I called the one person who could bail me out of trouble because he lived in southern Putnam County at the time.

My boss, Larry Sullivan, my managing editor since 2009. I explained to him what happened and he more than understood the situation. So he told me he'd be there after the game, but just give him a call at the end of the third quarter to be on his way, which I did.

The game ended in the Raiders' 49-14 romp of their rival Wildcats as star running back Andre Addison, who would be the county player of the year in the sport, dashed for 197 yards on 13 carries and scored four touchdowns, while he went over the 1,000-yard mark for the season. They finished with 435 yards of offense as a team, including 280 yards.

And once I finished doing my interviews with Addison and Crescent City mentor Al Wisnoski, who was nearing the end of his five-year run as head coach, I headed back toward the parking lot.

Larry was not there yet. Thankfully, I called him to find out where he was and he told me he was almost there. About five minutes later, he arrived to pick me up at the front of the parking lot ... the same front that I had told the lady who drove me to the game to just drop me off at, but yet continued to the field open gate.

We took off and I asked him to stop at the fern plant to take a look at the condition of the car and tire. About 10 minutes later, we arrived in the dark. Larry took out his flashlight and put a light to it. The tire was an absolutely mangled mess. I was going to have figure out what to do with the tire and the car in the morning. I wasn't looking forward to it.

I grabbed whatever necessary stuff I needed from my car and we drove back to Palatka ... all 29 remaining miles in which we got back and I started writing my story and Larry went to check on the work that Patrick, our photographer, had done that night at Palatka for the Panthers' game with West Nassau before he turned around and headed back to south Putnam. I thanked him again, he said, "You're welcome" and he was on his way.

Writing the story and putting together the boxscore of the game were pretty easy to do, as was helping with the layout afterward compared to what the rest of the weekend might have been like in my head. When the night got done and we were off the board, I left the Daily News building at around 2 in the morning and walked the two miles back to my apartment, something I had done numerous times before.

The walk didn't kill me. I went to bed about an hour later.

It's Saturday morning and I get a phone call. It's Don, one of our carriers at the paper. I've known Don since the day I started at the paper in 2003. I told him about the misadventure with my car the night before. He was sympathetic about it, but I didn't expect anything. Now Don has news for me on this Saturday late morning.

"There's a new tire on your car," he said.

Before I left Friday night, Don thought he could do something about the tire. And it turns out he knew a guy at a tire place in Crescent City that could fix the issue. So he and that guy traveled to Seville to the fern-producing plant and saw the car there. Don told me that he and the guy had never seen a tire look that terrible before. I had told him it was in bad shape the night before.
So what they did was get a new tire, go back to the plant and put the tire on the car and take the horrible one off. They said it was easy.

And to my absolute shock, I came to find out that Don and his son Larry were going to be in Palatka on this Halloween Saturday and they were going to pick me up. "OK!" I said.

They arrived an hour later and the three of us headed down US-17 to Seville where the car was still sitting in that parking lot, now clear daylight. Sure as anything, the tire was gone and a new one was in its place. I had felt a joy of relief.

I started my car up and she was still running smoothly, but as I began to move the car back, something didn't feel right. I stopped it and got out of the car. The tire may have been new ... but it was flat! 

Yes, flat! Not quite like a pancake, but flat!

It seems when the tire got replaced, the guy who got the tire from the shop failed to make sure that there were no punctures or leaks. So Don came up with the idea to follow him to the nearest gas station in Seville, which at this point was two miles away. I figured the two-mile trip wasn't going to do much damage to the tire. We got there and put money into the air dispenser to fill the tire up, knowing it may not last long.

Don was able to give me the $35 for the faulty tire that he paid for it (knowing he'd get it back) and I took the car north to Palatka, fully aware that I had no choice but to replace the tire. I got into town and took it over to my buddies at Tire Kingdom. They took care of the tire and put a new one on for a little more money, but I was glad to take care of it. A few days later, I managed to replace the other back tire that was showing tread and ready to pop at any time on a long road trip.

The albatross cheapie tires were gone. And my car was riding smoothly again.

But I couldn't have gotten through that weekend without Don's help. Or Larry's help to pick me up. But more importantly, without that African-American woman with the three kids who was willing to take a stranger to a football game out of a random act of kindness.

I never saw that woman again, but she was a Godsend when I needed one. She got the "circle of kindness" rolling just 20 minutes before a football game I was supposed to be at.

Sometimes, it's better to be lucky than good.

It's fair to say I was lucky that night.

The night Rob Johnson took control

Wednesday, October 24, 1990, was a long day for me at the Observer.

My day started in the afternoon at Central Regional High School, covering the Shore Conference Tournament field hockey semifinal match between Central and Middletown North. The game went into overtime and in the extra session, Maria Merlucci, the team's top scorer, knocked in a pass from Jean Gardner to win the game for the Golden Eagles, 3-2, and send them on their way to the championship game on Friday night against Wall at Ocean Township High School.

Meanwhile, that was only scratching the service of my day. I had to hurry back to the Observer building to write the game story, leading off with, of all things, the sight on the hills next to the hockey field that Central played on. It was after I got done with my interviews with Gardner and coach Madeline Dutton that Dutton spotted something and made her senior midfielder turn around. There were three deer walking along the ridge of the hill overlooking the field. I'll never forget that sight whatsoever.

"I think that's an omen," Dutton said to Gardner and me. Turns out two nights later it wasn't as Wall won the SCT title, 3-1.

Meanwhile, I finished my story and my boss then wanted me to head to Brick Memorial High School to cover the second half of the Shore Conference Boys Soccer Tournament. Chris Christopher, who was our boys soccer writer, got to cover the first semifinal between Brick Township High and Middletown North. I got the nightcap, which started at 8 p.m., between two-time defending champion Jackson Memorial and Toms River East, a pair of Shore Conference Class A South rivals who were now going to mix it up for the right to move on to the final.

But this game was something more than just a winner and a loser on a cool night in the northern end of Brick Township. No, there was more to this story.

This was the night that Jackson Memorial's best player and Ocean County's best athlete, Rob Johnson, was returning to the Jaguars lineup. Was he injured? No. Was he out for personal reasons? Hardly.

Johnson was coming back to the Jaguars' lineup on this night after sitting out a two-game suspension mandated by the New Jersey State Interscholastic Athletic Association after an ugly incident that had taken place just nine days earlier. On that Monday the 15th, the Jaguars were in Hazlet to face off with Raritan High School's squad. Now, Raritan had this reputation of being rough and tumble, hardly a picnic to play. They also had a predominantly white team.

You can see where this is heading. They were also marking Johnson, the team's talented center-midfielder, very tight the entire game. But he found ways to frustrate them and get free. Still, he was also paying a price by getting tripped up and having his body banged around. Again, far from a picnic.

It was somewhere in the second half when it happened. The young man who was frustrated having to follow Rob Johnson all over the field finally snapped. In one motion, he reportedly fouled him and called him the word.

Oh, did I mention that Rob Johnson is African-American? Sorry.

Within one second, that young man who dared to "go there" went there. And when I mean there, I mean to the ground in a crumpled mess. One shot ... that's all it took. One damaged jaw. Apparently, that was what was needed for Jackson's amazingly talented senior to supposedly snap. Personally, I wouldn't have condoned the behavior, but believe me, I certainly would've understood him doing what he did.

No one deserves the "name" calling.

However, things got very complicated. The game was stopped for good, a near riot broke out and in the end, both Johnson and teammate Ashley Eure, another African-American who also took offense to what the kid said, got two-game suspensions. Jackson coach Mike Costa was suspended by his school for two games, but he went further than that, and suspended himself for the entire Shore Conference Tournament.

So the SCT began with Jackson Memorial defending a championship without its best player, a major supporting player and its coach. Turns out they didn't need them as they won both games. Now the Jaguars, the Class A South champions and tournament top seed, were about to face off with the Raiders of coach John Crowley, the fourth seed and a fairly talented club in its own right. But the Raiders hadn't beaten the Jaguars yet this season and was 10-1-1 against everyone else leading into the game.

And doing the coaching for the Jaguars was again, not Costa, but his assistant coach Martin Smith. Here's all you had to know about the man in charge: He was quite vocal and he was quite vocal in a British accent. Yes, he was a huge football fan (soccer over there). And if you didn't get to where you were supposed to get, he'd let not just you know, but he'd let the entire complex know! 

In other words, he was a perfect fit to be Costa's assistant coach. As for Costa, he's one of the most enjoyable people I've ever been around in terms of coaches. He also had a way to -- how do I say this -- be direct about his opinions. Let's just say he was not the most liked guy out there.


However, I enjoyed him and knew him from coaching the Jackson Memorial girls soccer team in the spring season. By now, though, he was just looking to talk to anyone but Chris. Understandably, Costa got tired of reading about the fight, the punch, the aftermath, and soon, the legal fees that were about to be paid because of this fracas.

Let's just say he saw me when I got onto the field and couldn't wait to unload his anger and frustration about Chris on me while he was leaning against the fence, nothing more than a spectator while his assistant was in charge.

Let's also say it was a tenuous time for the program and the relationship our paper had with them.

In other words: I had to be the go-between and play Switzerland.

So as I wrote down lineups for both teams and wished both coaches Crowley and Smith well, I noticed something immediately ... Rob Johnson was not in the starting lineup, but Ashley Eure was. I remember asking Smith if this was continual punishment against Johnson and he simply said, "No."

East and Jackson kicked it off on this cool evening, knowing the winner was going to face Brick in the final after the Green Dragons had dispatched of Middletown North in the first semifinal, 3-1. To East's credit, it held firm defensively as Eure and teammate Carlos Vasco were doing their darndest to keep the ball down at the Raider end. Goalie Scott Bennert, though, was frustrating the Jaguars' front line by either taking the ball away from a dangerous moment or making the save to stop any threats.

This went on for a good amount of the first quarter as the teams played to a scoreless tie. And still no sign of Rob Johnson, who was sitting on the bench awaiting his moment to come into the game.

The second quarter was nothing more than a repeat of the first quarter. But almost six minutes into the quarter ... and I can still remember the time without reading the story I did on the game ... Smith glared at Johnson. Johnson took his warmup hoodie off. He began to jog on the sideline in preparation of the first out-of-bounds ball that East hit last.

So with 13:42 left before halftime, Johnson had finally stepped onto the field, his first action since the unfortunate incident at Raritan High School. Immediately, the pace of Jackson's game got faster. Johnson was not afraid to get the ball and roam where he wanted to, but he had East players trailing him wherever he went. Some of his passes were just missing the mark and Bennert was at the other end covering up and sending the ball back.

The Raiders had done a tremendous job in holding the fort down. And at halftime, the game was scoreless. But I could see the look on Crowley's face -- it wasn't good. He knew there was still another half of soccer left and he knew Johnson was getting warmer as the night wore on.

Costa and I talked along the fence at halftime. He told me he was fortunate enough to have a coach like Smith to take over the team while he was in exile over the incident. He had that much confidence in this very vocal Englishman. Oh, he was also still steaming over the coverage in our paper over an incident none of us witnessed in person.

I smiled. I didn't know exactly what to tell him at that point, but he understood my quandary of having to take his ration and me telling him a lot of times, "Yeah ... yeah ... uh-huh." I just didn't know where else to turn at this point.

The second half began and once again, to East's credit, it did everything it could defensively to bottle up Vasco, Eure and Johnson, the three main threats the Jaguars had offensively. But one pass was about to change the complexion of the game.

In the game of soccer, it takes a player just a split second to leave his defender and get to a ball and not be called for off-sides. If Eure and Johnson had worked this play out over and over and over again, I wouldn't have been surprised. Eure had the ball at about the Raider 30-yard line. He tapped a pass by two defenders who were on Johnson. The ball landed perfectly on Johnson's feet and the only person left in the way was Bennert.

Somehow, Bennert figured he was about to be posterized, soccer-style. Before Bennert could even commit to a direction to go, Johnson had already made his mind up and ripped a 15-yarder past the goalie to give Memorial a 1-0 lead.

The seal was open and the Raiders were now in trouble because they needed to become more offensive just to tie the game up. They had played defense for a good amount of this game whether Johnson was in there or not. Now he broke through and Crowley and his team had no choice.

And after chasing the Jaguars all around the field for three quarters, the Raiders were looking like a tired team going into the fourth. That's when the Jaguars decided to put the hammer down. Yada Carew, another talented midfielder, fed Johnson on the right side of the field with a pass. He slipped past his defender and then started coming on toward Bennert. Again, before the Raider goalie could react, Johnson fired a left-footed shot past the keeper to make it 2-0 with 5:48 left in the game.

Two minutes later, Johnson scored maybe his prettiest goal of the night. Another talented midfielder, Damon Richvalsky, found Johnson streaking down the middle and fed him. Johnson once again beat his defenders and went to the right of the goal. When Bennert came out to take on Johnson, the Jaguar star floated a right-foot kick over the goalie's head and into the back of the net to finish out the natural hat trick and a 3-0 lead with four minutes to go.

East pushed up to make something happen, but it was all too late. And when Vasco got a hold of the ball, he found himself streaking down the left side of the field with no one in front of him and two Raiders trailing him. Once again, Bennert felt awfully alone. He beat Bennert to finish out the 4-0 victory.

And the Jaguars were on their way to the SCT final again, this time to face Brick in the first all-Ocean County final since Jackson Memorial beat East in the 1986 championship.

So I approached Smith first and I asked him why he started Eure, but didn't start his superstar center-midfielder.

"Whatever the rights and wrongs, you shouldn't hit someone," Smith started, sounding like he was still punishing Johnson for what happened over a week earlier. Then he changed tone. "I think a more important reason (not to start Johnson) was because (midfielder) Sean Donnelly kept him out. He's played the last two games. Even if it was an injury or whatever reason, I don't think you throw someone straight in."

Then he added about Eure starting, "Ashley was different because I actually thought we missed him more than Rob."

I stood there almost jaw-dropped. I'm thinking, "Really? This game was scoreless until you put Rob Johnson into the game and then he broke down East's defense."

To this day, I'm still struggling with that rationale. Sean Donnelly was a nice player, but he simply wasn't Rob Johnson, period. I hated to burst ol' Martin's bubble there, but Rob Johnson was an exceptional player.

I then approached Johnson, who was doing his first interview with anyone since the incident. He was cool with me.

"I wasn't really frustrated," he started. "I felt like I let the team down (not being on the field those two other games). I get nervous about my conditioning sometimes. But after I got in, I was just working hard."

This was when I knew I was talking to someone very, very special. At 17 years old, Rob Johnson was not thinking about himself or whatever he did. He was thinking about what he could do for his team. He was being the consummate team leader coaches dream of and can't coach up themselves.

And things changed in an exciting way for the Jaguars after that game. They went on to win the SCT title three nights later against the Green Dragons, then went from there to win the state Group IV championship. And Johnson finished out a brilliant winter by winning his second straight individual wrestling championship. In the spring, he went on to win the county 100-meter dash championship.

He was, easily, the best male athlete in this county. To this day, he's still the best male athlete I've covered in 30 years. Johnson went on to a very successful soccer career at Rutgers University, helping the Scarlet Knights to a Final Four in 1994. He went on to play for the New York Metrostars in Major League Soccer before moving on to a coaching career in the sport.

Rob Johnson accomplished quite a lot. But it was at his most vulnerable he stood up and took charge when his Jackson Memorial soccer team needed him. And it was a thing of beauty when he did.

It made that long day at the newspaper well worth it.

Brick National's version of 'What if?'

Five days had gone by since witnessing one of the greatest Little League All-Star comebacks of all time when Brick National dug deep down 9-3 in the bottom of the sixth inning to tie it up, then fall behind 10-9 in the seventh before scoring twice in the bottom of the seventh to win the New Jersey state championship over North Trenton.

It was also two days since I had arrived in Southington, Conn., to stay at the Suisse Chalet right off I-84 and then head along State Road-29 to State Road-6 and into Bristol to watch the team play in the East Regional tournament. In the first two games of the single-elimination regional, Brick National had scored a 9-7 win over Hagerstown American, Md., on the strength of a three-run home run in the top of the sixth by Justin Marsch and then continued that momentum into the next day with a seven-run first inning that led to another 9-7 win over Springdale Little League of Stamford, Conn., one of two teams representing the host Nutmeg State.

These were good times for the Brick National kids. They had lost only twice in New Jersey play and though they weren't completely steady so far, they had wins and were still alive in the regional, which was now down to the Final Four.

On the night I finished watching the win over Stamford, I was working on my story on the company-owned Radio Shack Tandy TRS 80 Model 100 in my room when I took a short break from it. I had walked out into the parking lot of my hotel room and recognized a few Brick National parents with some of their non-team member kids. Some of the parents, like myself, were taking the 10-to-15 minute ride from the hotel to the newly named A. Bartlett Giamatti complex each day. After a few minutes of chatting, they were asking me what I was writing on the latest win.

"Wanna find out?" I asked them.

They took me up on the offer and headed into my hotel room to watch me finish up the story that would be going into the Observer the next morning. I never knew if they were impressed by the process, but at least those parents and some of the kids related to the team got to see how it worked.

I had a chance to get ready for the next game. It was to be held in the early afternoon of Thursday, August 16, 1990, and most likely, the winner of this one was going to be favored to win the regional on that Friday and maybe head off to Williamsport, Pa., for the Little League World Series.

Yes, I was excited. I had been covering Little League for seven years and now, I had gotten closer to a World Series than I ever had. In 1987, the Toms River Junior Leaguers won the state title and won the opening game of the Mid-Atlantic Tournament, but then lost the next two games and were done. And in 1988, Toms River Little League, who I was affiliated with at that time, had gotten the rights to host the East Regional Junior League All-Star Tournament, but none of our local teams were in the tournament so the World Series was out of the question.

And so as I woke up on that Thursday morning set to make the 10-15 minute ride in my 1977 Dodge Aspen, I could see a nice-sized crowd at Breen Field, the main field of the two at the complex. All week, the temperatures were unusually warm at the complex, temperatures hovering in the upper 80s. On top of that, the "headquarters" for all the teams were at a private school near the field. And for Brick Nationals players and coaches, that meant a week of complaining about how humid and warm the classrooms they were staying in were. Maybe it was taking something out of them, but I knew once they got through this tournament, they would have better accommodations in Williamsport since they were quite a bit more established.

Brick National had a solid team, led by the big boppers in the middle of the lineup in shortstop Jim Kish, right fielder Justin Marsch and center fielder Brian Patton. They were surrounded by sure-handed and sure-armed players such as Mike Russomano in left field, shortstop-pitcher Mike Terranova, second baseman-pitcher Brian Yakovchuk, third baseman Mike Mendes and catcher Roni Bigelow.

The only thing missing, though, was their manager. By now, Roy Yakovchuk, a hard-talking but truly proud gentleman, could not get off work from the trucking business he was a part of. He had used up all his vacation time and they expected him back at work. So he had to hand over the managerial reins to his assistant coach, Rich Harden, whose stepson, Terranova, was on the team. Hardee wasn't as tough-talking as Yakovchuk, but he was pretty assured and knew how he wanted this team to run. All through the tournament, I had been in touch with both the manager and his coach, so the transition to dealing with Harden was an easy one.

This game, though, Harden was understandably nervous. The team across the way from Shippensburg, Pa. was very, very good. Their two best players were also their two aces on the staff, David Orndorff, the son of manager Glenn Orndorff, and Bob Shannon, who was to be the catcher on this day calling signals for Orndorff. Second baseman Gregg Mellott was a nice little leadoff hitter and shortstop Scott Thrush had some pop in the cleanup spot. But other than those four guys at the top of the lineup, Shippensburg wasn't going to crush the ball. The Pennsylvania state champions were going to rely on the pitching of their aces and playing defense to get through the tournament.

On a sun-splashed, warm day, I set myself up on the third-base side of home plate up in the metal bleachers where I wasn't going to move since metal and the sun don't make for the most comfortable experience around. And in the middle of yet another hot afternoon, I was thankful those nice people from Brick National had given me one of their team hats to wear as protection since my arms and legs weren't going to be very protected.

Let's say Brick National president Mauro Gagliardo liked me a lot and what I did for his league.

This was during the time period when ESPN didn't even come close to covering Little League ball, even though their studio was no more than about four miles from the complex. All the news on how this Little League game happened was coming straight from my nimble typing fingers and from other scribes as well as word of mouth.

Shippensburg won the coin toss and elected to hit last. That gave Orndorff the opportunity to thrust his will on the mound at Brick National's hitters. And he did so by striking out Russomano and Terranova on four pitches. He walked Kish, setting it up for Marsch, who was 2-for-7 in the regional, but whose hits were the three-run home run in the opener and a double in the seven-run first inning of the second game. Turns out Orndorff had brought it up another notch, striking Marsch out on three pitches, each one harder thrown than the last.

Where Orndorff depended on brut strength, Terranova depended on mixing his pitches up to keep the other team off-balance. And Brick National's most dependable pitcher was also economical in his pitching. He retired Mellott on a first-pitch groundout, Orndoff on a first-pitch flyball and Shannon on a groundout on the third pitch.

So far, so good.

In the second, Brick National built a rally against Orndoff. Patton walked. Yakovchuk beat out an infield single and was replaced on the basepaths by pinch-runner George Cavanaugh. After Bigelow struck out, Mendes was able to sacrifice both runners up a base, setting it up for No. 9 hitter Stan Czekay, who played an important role in that amazing comeback in the state final against North Trenton. On a 1-1 pitch, Czekay lofted a flyball that had carry to it. I can still see center fielder Jim Smith drifting back and drifting back. About eight feet in front of the fence, he made the catch to end the inning.

"What if?" I thought. Another nine feet and it's 3-0 and Terranova has control of the game. Believe me, it would have been a totally different game.

By the bottom of the third inning, Terranova had already retired the first six batters he faced. But he walked leadoff hitter Rodney Halter. That brought up Smith, the No. 8 hitter. On an 0-2 pitch, Smith reached out and poked a ball into center field. It landed in front of Patton for a single. Patton got the ball immediately and saw Halter take off for third. He threw a one-bounce strike to Mendes, who got the ball and waited on Halter to slide into the tag for the out.

The play, unbelievably, was not over.

After tagging out Halter, Mendes saw Smith taking off for second. Showing that he who hesitates is lost, Mendes got the ball out of his glove quickly and fired to Yakovchuk to put the tag on the runner and complete the extremely unusual 8-5-4 double play. All seemed to be going Brick National's way. But No. 9 hitter Mike Okker continued the threat with a single and Mellott singled him to second. But Orndorff hit a grounder at Mendes, who stepped on third to end the inning.

Still scoreless. It was obvious we were in for a pitcher's dual at this point and that 9-7 for a third straight game seemed to be out of the question. Orndorff struck out three and walked one in the fourth inning, bringing his strikeout total to seven.

In the bottom of the fourth, Shippensburg put another rally together. An error by shortstop Kish on a Shannon grounder was followed by a forceout by Thrush and that was followed two batters later by a double to left-center field by Bob Knox. Glen Orndoff stopped Thrush at third knowing Patton was sending the ball back into the infield, putting runners on second and third with two outs and putting the pressure squarely on Halter again. Halter hit a second-pitch comebacker to Terranova to end the inning.

Another rally squashed. Maybe this was Brick National's day, even though at this point, this Shippensburg team seemed a little better.

In the fifth, David Orndorff built his strikeout total to nine by fanning Czekay and Russomano and got a groundout off Terranova's bat. It just seemed Orndoff was on cruise control with the nine strikeouts, three walks and two hits allowed in five innings, throwing only 70 pitches by this point, 47 for strikes.

It was Terranova's turn again. He had thrown just 44 pitches in four innings and his mixing of pitches had frustrated his opponents for a good amount of the afternoon. But Smith blooped a single into right-center field to lead off. A wild pitch moved him to second. Ocker, the No. 9 hitter, walked, putting runners on first and second with no outs and bringing the dangerous top of the lineup back to the plate.

This was not looking good with very little regulation time left in this one. Mellott worked the count to 2-0, but had shown bunt on both pitches. On the next delivery, he bunted between the plate and the mound, easily moving the runners up a base. Terranova grabbed the ball and threw toward first, but his throw was in the ground and bounced away from Czekay for the error that allowed Smith to come home and move Ocker to third as Mellott scampered to second.

The string had been broken and Shippensburg had the lead. Worse, there were still no outs and the big aluminum bats of Orndorff and Shannon were still to come up. Orndoff hit a grounder at Mendes, who looked Ocker back to third, then threw on to Czekay for the first out.

At this point, Harden came out of the dugout to talk to his stepson and the other infielders and Bigelow. They had a plan in mind -- they had gotten through Orndorff, but they weren't going to mess with Shannon, who had hit two hot smashes at Kish. One solid stroke and 1-0 would become 4-0. Terranova threw four wide ones to Bigelow to intentionally walk Shannon and load the bases.

They were taking their chances with cleanup hitter Thrush. Terranova threw a first-pitch strike to the hitter. But you could see Terranova was laboring. His motion didn't look right and he seemed to be struggling with his arm. Ball one. Then ball two. Then ball three.

Harden came out again. Terranova gave him a look as if he couldn't do it anymore. With the count 3-1, Harden made the difficult choice to take his stepson out. Who was going to replace him, inheriting the count knowing that one more ball forces home a second run?

Harden called on Steven Haines, a bigger and harder-throwing pitcher compared to Terranova. A tough place to be for the young man, though. He threw his warmup pitches and Thrush stepped back into the batter's box with the 3-1 count.

Haines threw his first pitch high. Ball four. Ocker scored and it was 2-0. A one-run deficit seemed easy to make up, but a two-run deficit seemed impossible against Orndorff and, still with one out, Haines had to get out of the jam. He struck out Donnie Miller and then got Knox to pop out to Kish.

Brick National was down to its last at-bat. Do nothing and the season was over. And if Brick National was going to do it, it was going to be with the two top bashers in the lineup leading off. First up was Kish. He worked the count to 3-2, then Orndorff bounced the next pitch into the ground for ball four.

Brick National had a runner on base. And the hot-and-cold Marsch was up. He had delivered sixth-inning home runs in two of the previous three games, one to tie up the state championship, the other to put his team in front just two days earlier against the kids from Hagerstown. He couldn't possibly do it again?

That was just asking too much of a 12-year-old to do again and again. Orndorff was coming after Marsch. The count was 2-2. Marsch fouled off the next offering, a hard fastball. Orndorff tried another fastball.

Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

I knew that sound all too well. That was the same damn sound I heard in Spring Lake Heights and I heard again two days earlier on this same Breen Field. The ball took off and neither left fielder Miller or center fielder Smith moved. The ball cleared the left-center field by a good 40 feet. Unlike that grand slam to center field that tied the North Trenton game, I saw this ball clearly land harmlessly on the grass.

Brick National's fans cheered, yelled, screamed and just flat-out celebrated. This really couldn't be happening again. The boys from the south side of Brick Township had tied the game at 2-all and there were still no outs and had a pitcher who was cruising along on the ropes.

After Patton grounded out, Yakovchuk singled to center field, Brick National's fourth hit. Harden replaced Yakovchuk for the second time in the game with pinch-runner Billy Popp, meaning Yakovchuk was done for the game and was nothing more than a spectator on the bench. Orndorff recovered to strike out Bigelow on three pitches, bringing up Brian Gatto, who was pinch-hitting for Mendes after Mendes had sacrificed and struck out in his two at-bats.

To build the drama, a passed ball by Shannon moved Popp to second, then a wild pitch got Popp to third. The go-ahead run was 60 feet away and one hit was going to get him in. The count got to 3-2. On the next pitch, Gatto hit a grounder that went off Orndorff's glove toward Mellott at second. Mellott had to race in to get the ball. He threw to Knox and was able to get the slow-afoot Gatto by a step to end the threat.

Again, I thought, "What if?" What if Gatto had a little more speed. He beats the play out, Popp scores and it's 3-2 going to the bottom of the sixth.

The game was now in Haines' hands since Terranova was taken off the hook by Marsch's sixth-inning heroics. And starting with no one on base this time, Haines got the bottom of Shippensburg's lineup out in order on two groundouts and a strikeout.

Once again, Brick National was going to have to decide a game in extra innings, just like five days earlier. And after playing back-to-back-to-back games in this tournament (Shippensburg had earned a first-round bye to play just one East Regional game) and having to deal with oppressive conditions in their makeshift excuse for living quarters in Bristol while the complex was being built on the grounds, I was wondering how much was left in the collective tank.

Orndorff struck out Haines, Russomano and Terranova, now playing first and second base, respectively, in the top of the seventh to build his strikeout total to 13. Haines, meanwhile, had little trouble in the bottom of the seventh as he gave up a single to Orndorff, but got out of one-out trouble by getting Shannon to hit into a force play and Thrush to fly out to Patton.

On to the eighth. Once again, Kish and Marsch were to lead the inning off. If both got on base, I was pretty convinced Brick National was going to score and take the lead, leaving it to Haines to finish out the victory and move to the region championship the next afternoon.

Kish did his part without having to work hard -- Orndorff walked him on four pitches as if he didn't want him to ever touch the ball with his bat. That brought up Marsch, who was still basking in the afterglow of the game-tying home run two innings earlier. On his second pitch, Orndorff uncorked a wild pitch to move Kish into scoring position. With the count 2-2, Marsch lined a single to right field. Halter got to the ball quickly and fired it back into the infield.

That was huge since Harden was left with no choice but to hold Kish at third, putting runners on first and third with no outs. This brought up Patton and once again, Brick National had Orndorff on the ropes. This was really looking good. Orndorff got the count, though, to 0-2 quickly, forcing Patton to be defensive at the plate. On the next pitch, Patton hit a soft liner.

But Mellott was shaded over toward first base instead of his normal second base spot. Mellott reached high to snag the line drive, then saw Marsch a little too far off first base. He chased him back to the base and made the tag before he could step on the base to complete the double play.

Well, that's what I thought. Really!

In the middle of all this happening, Kish was back on third base and about to push the envelope. Mellott was finishing up tagging out Marsch when his teammates yelled for him to throw the ball to the plate. Yes, Kish was coming home, trying to sneak in with the go-ahead run in the middle of this traffic jam.

Mellott composed himself and threw a strike to Shannon, who got Kish at the plate by a step, blocking the plate effectively.

Yes, I had just witnessed my first triple play in my six-year career. And a first-and-third, no-out rally turned into a sudden end of the inning. I was simply dumbfounded.

Brick National jogged back out onto the field after watching that rally go by the wayside. Now they had to find the inspiration again to make it through the inning defensively and push this already classic into the ninth.

Miller began the inning by blooping a single to left field. This brought up Knox. He hit a slow groundball to the left side of the infield. Mendes got the ball, but his throw to second was late in getting pinch-runner Randy Clendening, who had replaced Miller moments earlier. Halter walked on five pitches and the bases were loaded.

This was not looking good. Harden came out one more time to calm down Haines and set up the defensive alignment that now had the infield and outfield in. It was one out at a time.

But two pitches into his at-bat, Smith hit a low liner where no one would have been normally standing. It was a one-hopper in front of Patton to score Clendening, though the fact Clendening was coming home wasn't stopping Patton from grabbing the ball and firing to the plate where, luckily, the ball never hit anyone as the rest of Brick National's fielders were walking slowly back to the dugout.

In a matter of eight minutes, Brick National went from threatening to take the lead to seeing its season end. It was over with Shippensburg winning 3-2. I interviewed Glen Orndorff afterward. This was a time period in which you could freely walk up to any manager or coach and just ask him questions after the game and not deal with the planned press conferences that happen now.

The manager was relieved. He knew, like I did, that the winner of this game was going to move onto Williamsport and the World Series. He praised his son (not surprisingly) for throwing the entire game, allowing five hits, walking five and striking out 13 while throwing 120 pitches, which if this were 2014, wouldn't be allowed. If these were 2014 circumstances, Orndorff would have been relieved during that sixth-inning rally at 85 pitches. Let's just safely say it was a much different world in 1990.

Orndorff also praised his second baseman Mellott for making the biggest play and biggest heads-up decision of the afternoon. The manager knew his team was on the ropes and managed to escape.

Harden, meanwhile, had to console his players who just saw their summer of baseball come to an end. And being as level-headed as he was, Harden told it like it was, putting the decision of Kish challenging Mellott on the triple play on himself just to shake the play and game up. It didn't work, but he enjoyed the ride as the team's temporary manager.

I was done with my interviews and started heading to the car. Turned the ignition ... nothing. Turned it again ... nothing again. So I waited a moment. Then one more turn of the key. The car started up. Suddenly, I had a problem with the car. I wasn't going to be stuck in Bristol, Conn. with a broken car, so I took it over to the nearby Firestone, where a woman named Marilyn who was handling my arrangements with the car couldn't have been nicer. I came to find out Marilyn just had her birthday on August 5 and she turned 28 -- ironically, the day that the most famous Marilyn in history, Marilyn Monroe, was found dead at the age of 36.

Trust me, Marilyn knew the irony of her being named.

The car got tweeked so I wouldn't have problems starting up again and I headed off to pick up something through a fast food drive-through, then back to the hotel to write the story of this unbelievable game and even more unbelievable triple play. I was finished with everything by about 9 p.m. and had the rest of the night to myself, though in Southington, Conn., they pretty much roll up the sidewalks at about that time. I spent the night watching baseball on the hotel room TV, hoping to see another no-hitter like I did the night before when Philadelphia Phillies lefty Terry Mulholland threw a no-no against the San Francisco Giants. No dice, though.

Brick National still had a third-place game to play the next morning at 11 o'clock. I checked out of my hotel and started to head back to the field for the game against the Maine state champion, Augusta North, when I put the key into the ignition and lo and behold ... it didn't start again! I'm like, "What the f**k?"

And just like before, the car would start up again on the next attempt and I drove back to the complex to cover the third-place game. Harden didn't take the game too seriously, putting guys in positions they normally wouldn't play. Still, Brick National jumped out to a 3-0 lead in the top of the third. In the bottom of the third, Augusta North scored four runs off starter Popp, then added another four runs off Yakovchuk in the fourth to make it 8-3.

Marsch provided one last memory of a great summer with these Brick National boys by belting a home run to center field in the fifth inning. That was it, though. Brick National lost, 8-4.

There was little fanfare. The parents, family and friends were glad it was over. The players were happy the month-long ride was over, even though it could have ended in the next and final spot of Williamsport. I remember talking with Harden, who reminisced about the summer that just passed. It was a fun adventure, he said, and he was glad he could take over for Roy Yakovchuk after his work wouldn't allow him to continue on.

And after everyone was gone and heading back to New Jersey, it was myself and Harden across the street from the complex next to my car just talking for 15 minutes about everything from baseball to even how I was able to do my job and send stories. He thanked me for everything I wrote on the team and how wonderful the support was from everyone, including elected officials such as the mayor and famed councilman and Brick High School football coach Warren Wolf, who made the drive to Bristol to watch the team play.

Rich Harden knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that might never be duplicated again.

Before saying our goodbyes, I told him about the trouble with my car. To show you the class of the man, he stayed with me in case the car wouldn't start up. But thankfully, the car kicked over on the first attempt. I headed over to Firestone knowing I had plenty of time to get the story done since we didn't have a Saturday paper. Whatever adjustment they made, the car worked and I didn't have another problem with the starting up of it.

As for Shippensburg, it wound up winning the East Regional championship and moving on to Williamsport just as expected. Shippensburg won the United States champion, but was torched 10-0 in the World Series finale against the team from Taiwan. And to this day, I believe if Brick National had won that game on August 16, 1990 that they were on the way to Williamsport and playing for the World Series championship. They probably were not beating the Taiwanese boys, but what the heck. They still would've been there.

The story would've been much different, that's for sure.

Again, what if?