Wrentham Youth Baseball Rallies Behind Gemelli Family

Rebecca, AnnMarie, Tim, Ryan and Adam Gemelli at a Red Sox game this summer.
(Photos courtesy of AnnMarie Gemelli)

Last fall, at the end of the summer season, Wrentham Youth Baseball coach Tim Gemelli felt pain in his shoulder while throwing batting practice. The pain continued, so he went to the doctor for a routine checkup. 

There was no way he could have expected the diagnosis that was about to come his way. 

It was determined in October 2013 that Tim had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), better known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. He held the tragic news close for several months while he sought second and third opinions, but finally told his fellow coaches (and good friends) in an emotional meeting in January.

“It’s life-altering,” said Dan Collins, who has worked with Tim on the coaching staff for the past four years. “It could happen to anyone…it really hit home for all of us.”

Shortly after telling the coaches, the players were also told. Collins explained, “Tim and [his son] Adam stayed home from practice and we spent half an hour with the kids to explain ALS and the situation. I’m not sure a lot of the kids knew what ALS was and they walked away with a lot of questions.”

Collins, who was on the verge of tears while recalling the meeting, continued, “The coaches and their sons were having a hard time keeping it together…As a team, it really brought us together and rallied us for a great season.”

Tim throws out the first pitch at Fenway Park.

With the support of the Wrentham Youth Baseball Softball Association (WYBSA) board and, in particular, the league’s president Gary Campbell, Collins set about creating a YouCare site to fundraise for the Gemelli family. So far, the site has raised more than $55,000 of the stated goal of $100,000.

On Opening Day in April, Tim, who was already starting to show the effects of his disease, threw out the first pitch. WYBSA sold bracelets and t-shirts and promoted the “Pitch In for Tim” campaign.

“It’s been such an outpouring of support,” said Collins. “I didn’t know what kind of community we lived in. The Wrentham community has stepped up above and beyond.”

In early September, AnnMarie Gemelli spoke about the support that the family has received from the league, players, friends, family, and the Wrentham community.

“We were blown away,” said AnnMarie, echoing a phrase that Collins used. “It’s been an incredible comfort knowing that we weren’t alone. It’s unbelievable and we can’t thank them enough.”

She added, “It’s taken a horrible situation and made it bearable because we’ve been surrounded by support.”

Tim continued with his coaching through the summer even as the disease continued to take its toll. Although, he was not able to throw batting practice or to take the field with the team, he was a constant presence on the bench. He was the team’s scorekeeper, thanks to an iPad app that allowed him to keep the book without needing to write, and he was an inspiration for the players during the season.

“Baseball is his life,” said AnnMarie on speakerphone with Tim by her side. “I would do anything it took to get him to the field because he felt involved and never forgotten.”

Collins added, “The boys love him. The summer coach insisted that he stay with the team as long as he wants. They’ve latched on to him and that’s really cool.”

Tim’s presence on the bench has also given the players a firsthand understanding of the devastating effects of ALS and of the need for compassion.

AnnMarie explained, “We wanted the kids to feel comfortable asking questions. We wanted it to be open and not be a secret…and for them to not be afraid to be around people that are a little bit different.”

Tim and Adam at the Red Sox game.

The WYBSA campaign to help the Gemelli family this summer has coincided with the international Ice Bucket Challenge, spearheaded locally by former Boston College and St. John’s Prep baseball player Pete Frates. Frates has reached out to Tim on several occasions in the past year and AnnMarie said that the viral campaign, which has raised more than $50 million for ALS research, has been another comfort to the family in this difficult time.

“We pray for a cure; we pray for treatment,” she said. “It may not work for Tim, but we’re trying to take the good out of this situation…we can face each day stronger seeing all of this happen.”

On July 5, on the 75^th anniversary of Lou Gehrig’s famous “I’m the luckiest man in the world” speech, Tim and the summer league team were given a special treat when they were all invited to Fenway Park. Tim threw out the first pitch and then the team celebrated on the rightfield roof deck and watched the Red Sox take on the Baltimore Orioles.

“I admire his fearlessness even as the appreciation grows fro what he has and what it is going to become,” said Collins. “He still supports the kids…is still a husband and father…just like he always was.”

Erik Sawyer, Gary Campbell, Rick Sabatini, Mike Fisette
and Dan Collins on the roof top at Fenway to support Tim. 

Collins and other volunteers from the community have been working to retrofit the basement of Tim and AnnMarie’s home to make it more comfortable and easier for Tim to manage. They are widening hallways to make it easier for a wheelchair to get through, building lifts, and customizing rooms. On the day of demolition in the basement, nearly 30 people showed up to lend a hand.

“I feel so overwhelmed because I want to thank everyone,” said AnnMarie who noted that the finishing touches on the basement were being put in place while she spoke.

The future is still an unknown that the Gemelli family is facing each and every day. As Tim’s ALS progresses, new and unexpected challenges arise that must be dealt with.

“From one day to the next, you don’t know what is going to change,” said AnnMarie. “Vans, wheelchairs - you don’t have time to wrap your head around it.”

Even as she explains the toll that ALS is taking on Tim, AnnMarie promises, “I anticipate that next spring…we’ll be out there [at the baseball field] as much as we can.”

The support of the community has been a godsend for the family to this point, but more is still needed. To donate to the Tim Gemelli Family Fund, visit www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/tim-gemelli-family-fund/137550.

2011 Red Sox Collapse

It’s been 77 days since the regular season came to a close on September 28^th and it has taken me just about that long to collect my thoughts on the atrocity of blowing a 9 ½ game lead in a single month.

The two worst Red Sox collapses in the time that I have been a conscious fan of the team, which discounts 1986 because I was 7 and I’m not sure I even watched the games, have come during two of my most difficult Falls personally. The team’s effort seemed to strongly mirror my own attitude.

2003 will always be the worst collapse because everything seemed perfect. The glorious success that all Red Sox fans had hoped for was in our grasp and our ace, our favorite, Pedro had put the Yankees in their place, but...

By the time Boone ended the season I had left my friends to go home because I just couldn’t take the pain of the inevitable loss.

For reasons I’m not getting into here, 2003 was by far the worst time for me personally and, by a degree of magnitude, is far worse than the current situation. The same can be said for the record-setting atrocity that was the Red Sox in September.

Unlike 2003, there was always something about this year’s squad that seemed weak. The lineup was amazing. Jacoby Ellsbury and Adrien Gonzalez were legitimate MVP candidates, Marco Scutaro dominated the final month, David Ortiz found the fountain of youth (fingers crossed that it wasn’t the fountain of PED but at this point would anything surprise you?), and the combination of Jared Saltalamacchia and Jason Varitek combined to be a mostly productive catcher. Despite the missing in action JD Drew (finally giving up on the pretense of trying to play once a week) and Kevin Youkilis (karma’s a bitch) the Sox were an offensive machine.

The problem that everyone could see coming, but no one wanted to admit, was that the pitching staff sucked. John Lester regressed into a nibbler and always seemed to be pitching out of jams and seemed incapable of getting into the 7^th inning. Josh Beckett seemed to be back to his best but there has been confusion on whether or not this was just a lot of good luck or great stuff (and you could read all of the articles on the subject in the time it took him to throw a pitch). Injuries took their toll leaving the fans to watch Kyle Weiland, Andrew Miller, Eric Bedard, and Tim Wakefield try to scrape enough innings to finish the season.

Then there was John Lackey. I want to be sympathetic as he obviously pitched through a lot of pain both physically and emotionally, but the stink of his starts (6.41 ERA, .302 BAA, 1.62 WHIP) won’t be washed away simply with pity. There was never enough blame to go around after he would allow 11 ringing line drives in 5 innings. It was always the stadium design, poor defense, or just bad luck, never just bad pitches left over the middle of the plate. His elbow was always great during bullpen sessions just not when there was an actual hitter at the plate. I hope he comes out in 2013 and is lights out, but I’d be just as happy to see him pitching for the Nationals when that happens.

I don’t want to go into the behind-the-scenes drama that has engulfed the team since the season ended except to say that I can’t erase the image of our starters lined up on the couch in the clubhouse smothered in empty KFC buckets and gravy looking like White Goodman from the final scene of Dodgeball.

It was time for Theo and Tito to move on. It’s been a great nine-year run but new energy was needed. Thanks for introducing the Duck Boat parade to Boston and good luck but it is time to find the next great manager. I’m disappointed that they didn’t take the chance on Sandy Alomar, Jr. he could have been the kind of ex-player/leader that this team was crying out for. Bobby Valentine will keep the seat warm for two years, hopefully for the second choice way back in 2003, Joe Maddon.

The front office is a disaster but the lineup is going to be pretty close to what it was this year. Right field will be up for grabs and Ryan Kalish may finally get his chance at a regular roster spot. If Carl Crawford returns after a season of swinging the bat like Bernie Mac in Mr. 3000 (RIP) then the outfield should be solid. I would love for them to try and trade Youk but who wants an oft injured, angry, teammate bashing, and regressing third baseman? I’m not sold on the return of Kelly Shoppach but look around the league and find more than a handful of catchers that you really want behind the plate everyday.

The focus needs to be on the rotation. There is talk of turning Daniel Bard and Alfredo Aceves into starters, Clay Buchholz should return from injury, Junichi Tazawa will get a bigger look and now a closer has been brought in from the Astros. There is no reason for the panic that has engulfed Red Sox Nation.

The fans have returned to the pre-2004 levels of despair over what has transpired since September 1^st. There has to be the recognition that after the collapse of 2003, when it seemed that the only chance we had of ever seeing the Red Sox make the World Series had slipped from our grasp, the team was even better in 2004 and took home the title. Relax fans it will be better again, the team will regroup, the core will return chastened, and the Red Sox will battle for the playoffs just like they always do.

Pandora In the Time of Melancholy

Some days listening to Pandora can be a destructive exercise. Beautiful songs of longing or emotional impact turn into excuses for self-pity and a loathing of what the world has done to you. It’s never a reminder of the mistakes you make and the situations that you either passed up or botched, it is ALWAYS the world’s fault for your current predicament.

Depression is an evil condition particularly when it is coupled with the irrational delusion that somehow you have no control over the things happening around you. Heartbreak, unemployment, empty bank accounts are horrible things to deal with (especially all at once) but lying around listening to sad music and feeling bad for yourself won’t change anything.

Unfortunately this has been my stock response to trouble for as long as I can remember. I imagine that even as a baby in my crib that instead of crying or screaming when I had crapped my diaper I instead lay in my own excrement blaming the world for my upcoming rash. Why put up a fight and try to improve things? Then I would lose the power of being a martyr. Suddenly I wouldn’t have other things to blame it on but rather have to accept that maybe I had a hand in my own downfall and then my situation would lack the proper context to draw sympathy from those around me.

Over the years I have gained the wisdom to recognize this behavior in myself, although unfortunately not the wisdom to prevent it or stop it, which requires a much higher level of enlightenment than I’ve yet mustered.

In many respects this type of apathy and cynicism made me the perfect pre-2004 Red Sox fan. I expected failure because the world would never allow me the joy of seeing my team come up victorious and in fact would force me to lose in diabolical and heart-rending situations. This perfectly suited my negative outlook and gave me one more reason to continue down my path of mediocrity. The end result was always going to be a loss no matter what so don’t try too hard.

The Red Sox found a way to turn things around and created a situation where the future was always a bright one. Personally I thought I had as well. This September ripped the optimism back out of my psyche and brought it back to 2003 levels. Strangely there is some comfort in this situation as at least I can point to specific reasons why my current outlook on things is so bleak, but after feeling good for a little while it is very difficult to consider going back to a prolonged run of feeling miserable.

Back to the Pandora. Much like the Red Sox have been, music is always tied into certain memories that create the conditions on whether or not I like a song. Nostalgia and music is covered brilliantly by Chuck Klosterman for Grantland. I try to listen to the AvettBrothers channel and each song that once was full of intrinsic heartwarming melodies is now a hand holding my head underwater until the bubbles finally stop. Dramatic I know. These were songs that helped define a new outlook on where my life was headed and without changing a single word are now painful reminders of failure.

This Red Sox season held a similar fate. The team was rolling and everyone knew this was the team to beat despite injuries, and apparently drunken binges in the clubhouse, and the fans trusted that the team would give us a collective happy ending. Then it all dropped off a cliff. Suddenly we watched with horror as an entire month of ineptitude led into the worst/best night of baseball ever.

            Now we’re left to pick up the empty beer cans and cardboard Popeye’s containers and try to remember the good times while Ray Lamontagne and A FineFrenzy urge us to shed some tears and move on.

*Just to make it clearer these were all songs that came on Pandora while I was working on this post today, all of them are particularly poignant to the past year, none of them were the songs that originally prompted me to write. Pandora is scary in its cruelty...

The Real Fans?

It's easier being a fan on days like this.

My grandfather was stationed in England, just outside London, during the Vietnam War. Unbeknownst to him this would lead, some 40 plus years later, to me being a diehard and fanatic Manchester United supporter. See, my grandfather was able to witness the historic mid-60’s triumvirate of George Best, Bobby Charlton, and Denis Law and was enthralled by the style with which they played the game. As a kid I found a packet of holographic player cards that my grandfather had collected. The long hair and ridiculous short shorts, the logo, the cool nickname, everything looked so interestingly foreign to my 10 year old self.

Little did I know that 10 years later I would start playing soccer thanks to a college girlfriend and a co-ed indoor league in Warwick that would be my Sunday (and sometimes Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday) refuge for over a decade. Once I started playing the game it was inevitable that I would be enthralled by the sport and I had to seek it out at the highest level (sorry MLS but not quite). Thanks to my grandfather’s stories and collectibles there was only one team that I could support.

No one roots for this team but we don't care.

(Now this is a far-cry from the love affair that I have developed with the team in the present day , which includes following every soccer writer I can find on Twitter, keeping the transfer blog bookmarked, and watching any game that might be on TV including the Spanish-language telecasts of the Copa America or under-20 World Cup. Incidentally, though I don’t understand a word that they’re saying I still think the announcers were much better than those on Fox Soccer. I even had my girlfriend read Fever Pitch to get a better understanding of my mentality, then told her to read Juliet Naked as well just to show that I wasn’t just a troglodyte sports fan. Not sure it worked.)

Following Manchester United, and European soccer in general, has taken its place alongside the Red Sox and Celtics and I consider my knowledge of the subjects to be well-above the common fan. (This is when we get to the actual point of the blog, by the way.)

Why do I always consider myself a “better” fan than everyone else? Why do the “pink hats”, the people singing “Sweet Caroline” (singing it karaoke-style while wasted in Vegas doesn't count), or people who don’t know where we picked up Mike Aviles bother me? Why should I care? Why does it have to be a competition? Shouldn't being a fan be about the communion of fun and common interest, not about the depth of feeling that any interest might arouse?

The other night at Good Times (which is ironically never a good time) I kept shaking my head, laughing, and/or getting actually upset at the ill-informed comments of the drunks at the bar. I don’t know why the random Tigers fan who seemed to know nothing about the Tigers other than that they don’t serve Bud at Tigers Stadium (he was old but I assumed he was talking about Comerica Park not flashing back to the ’84 World Series) upset me. I can’t get upset because he works all day and doesn’t spend every waking hour studying the ticker on ESPN.com or watching Baseball Tonight.

There isn’t a single person in Manchester (England not New Hampshire) who would think that I was anything but a carpet-bagging Yankee pink hat for Man U just because I live in the US. I wasn’t brought up with stories of Busby’s Babes and I didn’t get to see the ’99 Champions League win as it was happening so I don’t count as a “real” Manc. That’s basic English elitism about US soccer fans but aren’t I (and a lot of Red Sox writers too, I’m looking at you Pete Abraham and Bob Ryan) being just as elitist about people who aren’t fanatics about the teams we hold dear?

Here's to you John  Lackey!

While I’m slamming my fist down, having my night ruined, and getting pissed every time that John Lackey pitches most fans are going to be grabbing a beer and talking with the people near them about how great it is to be out watching the game. It’s time to grow up and stop giving a shit about how little most people know about the Red Sox or baseball history. It’s time to embrace the “pink hats” as all part of the game, just as it’s time to stop holding a grudge because people are ignorant. Fine, you might not be the same type of fan as me (you probably have a lot more fun being a fan) but if you have any questions feel free to ask.

In the end, I’m the one with the answers and the issues.

Willing the Team to Victory

When I’m watching a Man U game on TV I like to be alone in my room where I can yell and gesticulate and generally be as obnoxious as possible without worrying about aggravating anyone (or embarrassing myself). Otherwise I want to be with other Man U fans who feel the same way I do when everything is going to hell.

So…suffice it to say that watching a game on mute while lying next to a sleeping girlfriend in a Boston hotel room isn’t the ideal atmosphere. Especially when Sir Alex insists on sending out a team that would struggle in a Carling Cup game (I’m looking at you Gibson) let alone an important early April game against a team that has had our number the past few seasons and while all of our title challengers are nipping at our heels.

(Please excuse the use of “our” or “we” as though wearing my replica Rooney jersey somehow puts me on the Man U payroll, but I am one of those kind of fans. I am also on the Red Sox and the Celtics and University of Michigan football team if you’re wondering.)

After the 2^nd Noble penalty found its way to the back of the net my frustration was at an all-time high and all I could do was silently curse the world, curse the fact that I really like Green Street Hooligans, that I bought my dad that West Ham jersey and that I was stuck in that room. So I gave up. I shut the game off and rolled over and put my arm around my girlfriend and tried to go back to sleep and forget about those damn Hammers fans singing that stupid song. 

This might seem like maturity. I could’ve (and have in the past) started throwing things and ranting and raving and let my whole day be ruined by the bad bounces and pre-Champions League stumbles of the “most hated team in Britain”.

But it wasn’t maturity. It was petulance. I was being a spoiled brat who gives up as soon as my team comes under pressure. Instead of hanging around to watch another fantastic Man U comeback (3^rd time this season they have comeback from 2-0 down at half) and a hat trick from my favorite, vocabulary-challenged, player I quit Instead of having faith in a team that is renowned for its ability to overcome adversity and the likelihood for relegation-threatened West Ham to collapse, I stopped believing.

Part of me is superstitious enough that I actually thought if I just shut off the TV then it would increase the chances of something amazing happening, simply because I wasn’t watching. But I would be lying if I claimed it was anything other than I just didn’t believe.

I don’t know where the skepticism comes from although maybe rooting for the Red Sox my whole life hasn’t helped. Maybe New Englanders with our Calvinist love of struggle, hardship, and Blue Laws makes us all overly negative? The inferiority complex of Bostonians trickling down into my fandom? Or maybe I’m just a miserable bastard, who knows? My girlfriend will watch her team right to the end believing they will make the miracle comeback, my team gives up a goal 1 minute in to the season and I’ve just given up all title hopes.

When the game was over and I was walking across the street to get some breakfast I couldn’t help but look at the results and fist-pump my way through an intersection (getting a few strange looks in the process) and believed that my decision to shut off the TV had been the impetus for my team to push on and get the win. Such is being a fickle fan, we all have our ways to influence the games, even if mine is simply to lack faith and give up. We all have to do our part! 

Glory, Glory Man United!