Let’s say I had a fender bender in the East Village on my way to the Bergino Baseball Clubhouse. Right panel & hood shot, an easy $3000 repair. The car’s drivable and I park off Broadway and walk to the one of a kind baseball collectible store on east 11th Street. While walking alone I mumble, “Deductible $500 out of my pocket and insurance soars, just what I need.”
When I get to the store I peek through the window and see the 410 FT sign indicating I’m approaching the outfield’s warning track. I step into the clubhouse and I’m home; in a space that surrounds me with warm familiar items that bring me back to the days when I swore that ball players needed me to root for them or they wouldn’t win. Told my mom and grandmother many times, “My team needs me!”
Still down about the car, I turn and look for a place to drop my backpack. In the center of the store is a large card table covered by a gorgeous water color painting of Mickey Mantle smiling in uniform looking like the 1953 Mick who hit a 565 foot homerun in Griffiths Stadium. As soon as I see Mantle’s young face this thought passes through my head, “It’s only a car, I’m safe, and I’ll probably be able to work out the deductible with Joey.”
Mickey in the Clubhouse is all it took. A terrific water color painting by a supremely talented and successful young artist, James Fiorentino. Bergino proudly hosted a show of James best baseball art this past week. I spoke with James and his enthusiasm for the game and his work is sky high and focused, very similar to the level of dedication and talent Jay Goldberg brings to the Clubhouse every day. Displayed here, are many of James pieces and one my favorite items at the Clubhouse ~ the Yankee Popcorn Megaphone (recently sold, darn!)
You can see all of James Fiorentino’s work at his web site or contact James through Jay Goldberg, the baseball loving owner and manager of the clubhouse.
No longer a fan of recreational drugs, I highly recommend going to Bergino Baseball Clubhouse at 67 East 11th Street, where your sense of well-being will be lifted for your entire stay and if you see the right thing and take it home your spirits will soar long into extra innings.
Jay & I hope to put on a “Baseball” storytelling show at the Clubhouse next spring. Keep your eye on the scoreboard.
Regarding the title of this piece, I never shoke Mickey Mantle's hand. He stood right in front of me at the 86th Street RKO at a promotional screening of "Safe at Home," a crappy film that capitalized on the 1961 home run derby between Maris & Mantle. I was 8, I stared up at my hero with my mouth wide open. I was having trouble breathing. My father nudged me to say hello. Ellie Howard to Mantle's left leaned over and said, "Go ahead kid, say hello, he won't bite." I kept staring at his face, catching flies in my mouth. The Yankees turned right and filed onto the movie theatre's stage and then Mickey was gone. I never saw him that close again. That day Mickey Mantle busted my busted.
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