Writer reflects on his 1999 league baseball championship at Salem State with a sense of appreciation

By: Dom Nicastro

That green, freshly-cut outfield grass had just enough cool to it, providing a slight reprieve from the scorching Florida sun.

The game started in an hour or so. We sat there on that grass at Hoyt Field in Gulfport, Florida, doing what any collegiate baseball team does to get ready for a game: play Duck-Duck-Goose.

Literally, we did that.

It was 1999, and it was my senior season on the Salem State College baseball team. We were the 2003 Red Sox, you know a bunch of idiots. It was Cowboy up, and all that crazy, loosey-goosey stuff. That was us on the field, so imagine us off the field. Florida bedtime curfew be damned, sorry Coach, once again.

We weren't too goofy, though. We were all business from that first pitch to the final out. We played hard. We played together. We won 27 out of 36 games to win the league championship. We led the nation in home runs, had an All-American, the best pitcher arguably in program history and the program's all-time leading home run hitter.

We were good.

As good as the record books say we were, I count our success on the diamond as only one small memory of a time I see as one of the greatest of my life.

I remember the long bus rides, when laughter seemed to outnumber the miles. I remember all those chats on the green outfield grass at Hoyt, our home field in the Sunshine State for four spring break trips. I remember the good times on the bench after the many blowout wins, watching the future of the program get their chance on the diamond.

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