The adult volunteers worked long nights after work, whipping fields into shape so their sons could experience the combat of hardball without the pleasures of cow pies and random rocks placed Murphy like, in just the right karmic position.
Little did we know, we were to be a small part of a larger saga. A story that continues today on the same, vastly improved ball fields. But in 1958, the men ran out of money and in Hovey Square Park, local ground rules had to be established. There was no fence in left field.