Covers: Volume 2/Number 1

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Covers: Volume 1/Number 1

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Little League Confidential by David "Stretch" Cohen

In 1963, the Daily News in Springfield, Massachusetts covered the local Little League campaign as if it were the Majors. Complete standings were listed each week, and summaries of every game were crafted by sportswriters who weren’t afraid to show off their flair for language. Even in a two-inch blurb, a fine pitching performance might be described as a “twirling gem” and a struggling hurler might be likened to someone “throwing watermelons” to eager batters.

We lived to see our names in print and dreamed we might someday be like Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris or Carl "Yaz" Yastremski. We knew no one could ever touch the recently retired Ted Williams.

My neighborhood was filled with large families, so there was no shortage of children to fill out the teams. Naturally enough, the Catholic kids played for the Holy Cross squad. Surprisingly, I played on the Wachogue Church team along with all the other Jewish kids. Our coach, Harry Stuckenbruck, was a lay minister who earned his living working for a big insurance company by day. Although the church was more of a neighborhood recreation center than a depository of religious dogma, the irony of playing for a church team, being coached by a protestant minister, and having the majority of the team be Jewish was not lost on us kids. When the Catholic boys started tracing a cross into the dirt with their bats before each turn at the plate, we followed suit with a Star of David. All the religious artwork probably lengthened the games by a good ten minutes.

We must have been doing something right, though, because we made a great run through the city tournament in ‘63. I remember that year like it was yesterday. I still have the old clips, glossy team photo, and stylish trophy awarded for our performance. I was hitting like a demon and connected for a grand slam in a 20-1 pounding of the Forest Park Jets. My best friend, Eric Stahl, drove me home for the winning run against McKnight AA. Those were exciting moments a young boy never forgets. After playing together for six years, we were one win away from the championship game.

The matchup against Grenier’s of Holyoke was neck and neck through the early frames. Zwirko, the big slugger we feared most, hit a towering fly over my head in the outfield. I was the tallest player on the team—even edging out Coach Stuckenbruck—but no one was going to catch this ball. They measured it at 325 feet. Despite the homer, we still held an unexpected 5-4 advantage going into the final inning. Then a pair of infield errors seemed to knock the remaining wind out of our already tired pitcher. Several hits later, we were 10-5 losers and out of the tournament.

But we almost beat the best team in the league. Come to think of it, we almost were the best team in the league.

Originally published 1994
Volume 1/Number 3

A Letter to Our Readers

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An example of The Giant Bee Journal's wayward PR efforts. This communique introduces the key staff members and attempts to explain to our eight subscribers why they weren't actually receiving any issues.