Free Red Sox Rule by Michael Holley Page A

the school’s best golfer. He was 3 years younger than Joe Montana and 2 years older than Dan Marino—both western Pennsylvania quarterbacks—and he thought of playing football like them, but his father talked him out of it.
    Really, his best work was done underground. Between his sophomore and junior seasons, he turned the family basement into a baseball compound. This kid, with his long hair parted downthe middle and red Chuck Taylor sneakers on his feet, had a work ethic that defied his hang-loose exterior. He’d set up his stereo, give some volume to Aerosmith, and practice his swing with a lead bat. There was a light hanging in the basement, and he practiced his throws by perfecting his arm slot so that he could hit the strike zone, formed on cement blocks, and avoid the light. Day after day, Birdie and Tito heard Toys in the Attic and baseball in the basement.
    All that work led to a season in which getting Terry out was worthy of a headline. Pitchers got him out just nine times in 1976, when he hit .769.
    As hard as he worked and as respectful as he was, he was still a teenager. He and his buddies were hanging out at the New Brighton Hot Dog Shop one day, eating away. Then they figured out that they didn’t have any money. So they slipped out without paying and headed to Pappan’s, a family-owned diner in town. The three of them sat in a booth and began looking at a menu, and soon a nice man joined them. He was a police officer. He casually picked up a menu, looked at it, and said to the group, “I think you boys must have forgotten to pay at the Hot Dog Shop; can you take care of that for me?” They rounded up some cash and paid their bill.
    It was hard to get away with much in New Brighton. The town was so small and friendly that Terry didn’t have to drive anywhere if he didn’t want to; he could go to the end of his driveway, hold up his thumb, and someone passing by would take him where he needed to go. It was small enough that when Terry was supposed to be eating lunch at school and instead traveled to a place called Eat ’N Park, he ran into the mayor at the time, Paul Spickerman, and the mayor recognized him.
    There were moments when he had Tito pacing in the living room, just waiting for him to return home after being out with his friends. That’s exactly what happened one night when Tito’s antennae went up early: he became suspicious when he saw his son’s car parked in the church parking lot. Terry had left the car door open, with the keys inside, with a note to his girlfriend. He wanted her to drive his car and meet him at a party. Tito got the note and keys before his son’s girlfriend did. The good news was that at least Terry’s car hadn’t careened into the ditch that his friend’s had. The news that would eventually get Terry grounded for a month was that he was in a car with a few other guys, and they had all been drinking.
    There weren’t many positive things about that night, but there were a couple. One was that no one got hurt in the accident. The other was…well, Mr. Wooley’s wife. Mr. Wooley, a young English teacher, had always told his students that if they were ever in any kind of trouble, they should contact him promptly. Since they were in trouble—a car in a ditch is real trouble—they went to his house, banging on the door at midnight. They had always talked about how good looking the teacher’s wife was, and to their surprise, guess who was answering the door in a negligee?
    “Whatever happens to me tonight, it’s almost worth it after seeing this,” Terry said.
    It was a line, but he knew it wasn’t true. He was going to have problems at home. As he drove back to his house with teammate Johnny Albanese, he kept repeating that his father was going to kill him. Albanese told him not to worry because they always had the option of running away from home. Terry didn’t listen. “My dad is going to kick my ass,” he said. Albanese offered a few more options as