The World According to Gillespie

PROTECT BASEBALL FANS FROM ADDITIONAL NETTING The Chicago White Sox announced that they will become the first team in Major League Baseball to install protective netting all the way around the field from foul pole to foul pole, the decision coming on the heels of a woman being plunked in the head with a foul ball at Guaranteed Rate Field and a 3-year-old boy who was injured by a ball in Cleveland a few weeks back.   This is yet another example of the powers that be in baseball attempting to reform the game by trying to keep the financial attention of a fan base that no longer knows how to keep its eye on the proverbial ball. The recent rash of injuries due to foul balls is not due to a problem in baseball. It’s more likely due to a problem in society.   Baseball has existed for well over one hundred years and although there were occasional instances where fans have been injured by foul balls (the most famous of which being 1982 when Jim Rice climbed into the stands at Ya

HISTORY MUST PAY ATTENTION TO ROSS PEROT This column originally appeared on Wicked Local The passing of Ross Perot brings back memories of his spirited run at the presidency in 1992, and also brings to mind that our party system (not originally favored by our Founding Fathers) has become mired in a political rut largely offering the same two party directions for well over a century.   When George Washington took office in 1789, his tendencies were historically Federalist although the humble and astute Washington would have bristled at being given any label. Thomas Jefferson changed the nature of political leadership in 1801 taking office as a Democratic-Republican (a political party affiliation that would be sure to confuse our current president). Andrew Jackson was the first true Democrat in 1828 and Abraham Lincoln the first real Republican in 1860, both at their respective times entering the White House as political outsiders not much unlike a third party candidate might e

LIFE’S THE SAME I’M MOVING IN STEREO The thing that I most regret losing in my recent divorce is something that never actually became part of our marriage. In the transition of selling one home and relocating to another, I was forced to basically empty the contents of my house so I could somehow stuff myself into my wife’s house. In this hurried process, I took all of my old stereo components that had been boxed up and stored in the attic and dropped them off at a second-hand store. They were heavy, cumbersome, appeared to have little value, and were basically obsolete.   The items that I dropped off included a beautiful Marantz analog receiver that I bought used at Audio Replay in Harvard Square in 1998 for roughly $100.   It was somewhat of a dinosaur even then. Living in the North End of Boston at the time, this receiver along with a cassette deck and a 5-disc CD player (vinyl had yet to make a comeback) became my source of pre-digital music. This system sounded great throu

BROCKTON ACCORDING TO GILLESPIE This column originally appeared on Wicked Local                                           I decided to make a trip through Brockton after roughly thirty years away. Brockton is a city that, despite its questionable reputation in recent years, is one that I remember as being vibrant and lively when I was a kid. But the Brockton I found was sadly void of the energy that I remembered. Gone are the landmarks that once characterized Brockton East: Christo’s, the Brockton East Twin Cinema, Bradlees, Burger King, Friendly’s, Red Lobster, and even the old Jack-in-the-Box. They have been replaced by a handful of less than notable stores, a Home Depot, and an annex to Massasoit Community College.   The energetic vibe that once reverberated the downtown area of Brockton is also gone.   Main Street was once highlighted by thriving long-lasting businesses, the Brockton Enterprise, the YMCA, and a variety of inviting jewelry and furniture stores.   L

INCONVENIENT TO A T This column originally appeared on Wicked Local When I was a kid my mother bought me the Boston Game, a board game that caused you to playfully navigate the entire color-coded system of the T.   We were in the city quite a bit, and she thought it would be an effective way for me to learn my way around town and potentially how to use public transportation just in case.   The T was an affordable way to travel back then and it was convenient. For short money you could go virtually anywhere in the city. When I finally moved into Boston permanently in 1990, the T was my principal mode of transportation. For years, my former workplace (Marriott Copley) offered employees T passes for $25.00 a month, making it more affordable and more convenient than driving.      But the T has changed.   This past week, I twice dared to take the T into Boston instead of driving, the first day opting to go to the Quincy Adams Station figuring the Braintree parking lot might

SAYING FAREWELL TO JUMPIN’ JOE MASON This column originally appeared on Wicked Local I recently received the sad news that an old friend of mine’s father was gone. “I wanted to let you know that Jumpin’ Joe Mason passed away on Saturday night,” said the text message from his oldest son, Mark. “He had a heart attack last week and fought a good fight.” And with that, my mind spun into a myriad of memories from when we were kids. I had not seen Joe Mason in over thirty years, but I would be remiss if I said that I did not think of him often. In a kind of lifelong déjà vu, I am constantly driving by tucked away baseball fields on the South Shore that I only recognize because Mr. Mason had driven us to a game there at one point, fields in places that I would have trouble finding today even with the assistance of GPS. Joe Mason was one of those people that you assume will always quietly be there, but as we seem to be repeatedly reminded in life, no one can be there forever. Joe Mas

EAST BRIDGEWATER 1980 - REFLECTIONS ON BASEBALL This column originally appeared on Wicked Local. Each year as the weather becomes more spring-like, I am taken back to 1980 in East Bridgewater, a memorable end of the school year with an extremely competitive little league season.   Baseball was the highlight of our spring.   There was no internet.   There were no AirPods.   There wasn’t even such thing as a Space Invader yet, unless you were talking about the ones that arrived on the big-screen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.     All players marched in the annual East Bridgewater Little League parade, and for the first time in what would become the norm, I opened the season at second base for the Lions Club team coached by twenty-one year old Terry Kingman.   Eamon (Terry’s little brother) was a fixture at shortstop.   Eamon Kingman and I were close friends, so we worked well together on and off the field like Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker, the duo that held down the

NICK CAFARDO – ONE OF THE GOOD GUYS   This column first appeared on NorthEndWaterfront.com  and also appeared on Wicked Local. I am a Red Sox fan. I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but I do remember specifically when it happened. It was a snowy February day in 1978, maybe on a day off from school during the Blizzard of ’78. I flipped through a few of our limited available channels and chanced upon the beginning of a Red Sox Grapefruit League game (spring training in Florida for those of you who are not up to speed). I am pretty sure the Red Sox were playing the Cincinnati Reds at the time.   It was sunny and colorful and, for lack of a better term, optimistic. I was hooked and later that year indoctrinated into official Sox lore with Bucky Dent’s round-tripper into the screen on October 2 nd .    I recall reading an article that summer titled Five Who Made a Difference – documenting the influence of newcomers Dennis Eckersley, Jack Brohamer, Jerry Remy, and two others