Dowling College junior pitcher Buddy Cipoletti will be blogging about the team's experience at the NCAA Division II College World Series in Cary, NC. Check out the Dowling Web site for more on the Golden Lion's quest for a National Championship.

Sunday, May 24:

Lined up for the National Anthem

The team stepped on to the bus in uniform, remembering their pins for entry and sporting the Adidas logo like new shoes. As we arrived to an unprepared complex, I spotted a man running from the field to the gate to let us in. He worked up quite a sweat and I appreciated the hustle. Good people over here at the USA Baseball Complex.

We started off with our usual BP, (Batting Practice) for you non-slang folk, and the ping of our aluminum echoed off the dew tipped grass, freshly mowed. Sure, player's new cleats will in fact get dirty. They continuously do battle at the frontlines and impact with trenches throughout. But one thing I never minded sticking to my cleats was the shavings off a freshly cut baseball field. The centimeters of grass blades that stick to the toes of my cleat. I am no golfer, but I can appreciate looking down a morning fairway, with green so rare no photography can illustrate.

This morning was truly an awakening of the senses, as it was surely the first and best day of all our baseball careers to date. Each player selectively will remember the smell of the foggy air, the sun on the back of their necks, the taste of their own sweat and the feel of glove leather on the palm of their hands.

Soon after batting practice, we were led to the main stadium field. We entered in through the right field corner and faced directly to the grandstands that flanked home plate. We felt right at home. San Diego's squad had already taken their third base side dugout and we proceeded to take the first base side.

Rain complicated our pre-game rituals a bit, but it all worked out just fine. We sat in the dugout and looked out over a pristine field, a major league field. The tarp was soon lifted and seemed to unveil our stage, like the curtains being lifted off the beginnings of a masterpiece.

Buddy (third from right) and the rest of the team during game one

None of us knew what to expect, and I think it sometimes is a good thing. Again, I encourage all readers to visit the main baseball page for play-by-play statistics and accurate game articles, but what I can say is we started off hitting balls hard of their ace and we never looked back for 9 innings. Gaby cruised in perfect rhythm, keeping Triton hitters off balance for most of the game, give or take a few hard hit balls, but no damage was done. He pitched masterfully and deserving of his accolades. It was a rush of serotonin through all the guys systems, I mean you could absolutely feel it. It was one of those things, in the late innings we were up 3-1 over the number 1 team in the country, where you look at the guy next to you, and you both can't stop smiling.

Any animosity with each other, even though there is none, was gone. Guys linked arms and were together in this. Our fans cheered behind us and to the 27th out, a line drive to Frankie in center, we took game one by an easy 3-1 score, outhitting the Tritons outright. We went head to head with our aces and came out the victor.

We handled the win with class, no yelling and such. At this point we knew what we were about, and we knew we had a big job ahead of us still. It's been a week to the day since we've played in a game, and we didn't skip a beat.

We later went to the illustrious Outback Steakhouse, where we ran into some difficulties with pink lemonade and some slightly undercooked meat, but who cares. My meal was cooked to perfection. A beautiful prime rib was put in front of me and I devoured it like a prehistoric beast come back from extinction. I'm not sure if it was the sweet hunger that today's victory left me with, or just a voracious appetite that I have accumulated with my ticking age.

We look forward to playing Lynn University on Tuesday. They played well against West Chester after our game.

Stay tuned sports fans. More melodic words coming your way.

Saturday, May 23

Arise young stallions. Arise at dawn to a newborn sun. After a long previous night of hilarious interviews with teammates and coaches, Frank Intagliata, your Golden Lion number sever, woke up this morning to a clock that read 7:30 AM. He was kind enough to wake Justin and me up and we all rushed to look our bests for breakfast.

Practice was scheduled for 9 AM for us this morning, and we had our usual team breakfast early. Naturally, Edwards had already been up for hours running or bench pressing, who knows but he was sitting happily in the comforts of the lounge area looking outside thinking of philosophy or something. Good man.

Skip the boring breakfast explanation and on to practice. A lot of us still in the process of waking up, oh! I have to say, another shout to our exemplary training staff, as I have finally been utilizing the benefits of, "ice, stim and ultrasound," and I'll never look back (Thanks Trish!). Sorry for the hiatus, but it was quite necessary.

We seemed to begin to wake up after the bright flashes of people's cameras forced us to, and we took the field to being our hitting routine. A short time after, several of us broke off the Lion pride to teach some younglings how to play the game the Dowling way. Myself, Frank Intagliata, Erik Cabrera, Taylor Bargiacchi, and our newest addition, or multiplication rather, with the knowledge of not on but several men, Coach George Loft.

These little rascals were patient and attentive, and sure hustled like they were being chased around by rabid poodles. I think it's a great thing the coaches from Mount Olive College, last year's National Champions, do for these kids. It was pretty much a day camp that involved full instruction for every aspect of the game from pitching to hitting and everything in between.

The coach from Mount Olive College lectured the kids with an important message, "It doesn't take talent to hustle." I think this is a great message that should be instilled in young ball players. I felt honored to participate in teaching the kids and all the guys that participated really stepped up and took active roles in helping these kids sculpt their games into fine Roman art. Well, finger paintings for now.

The clinic was a success and Dowling College would like to thank the Mount Olive program for choosing us to help out with their camp.

After practice and clinic, we headed back to the hotel to change and rest up. Pizza was ordered for all the guys and the decision was made to spend the night back at the complex to watch the bout between Grand Valley and Emporia State.

Leaving the game we went to a nice Italian restaurant and proceeded to dine in fine style. Beneath a garden terrace and in candlelight, we only hope to romance our bats with the pitched baseballs off San Diego fingers tomorrow. We had many laughs and became drunk with good spirit. A nice remedy to polish off a solid day.

We look forward to digging our spikes into the Kentucky blue grass that stand like soldiers on the Carolina dirt, and we look forward to a big victory that will go down in the books. Here comes the pain tournament...Take 2.

Friday May, 22:

Under the sheets that comforted the Dowling players with unrivaled efficiency, the Golden Lions enjoyed a beautiful night sleep in their first nights at the Hilton Garden Inn.

Today was packed with fun tidbits of happenings. From practice to being compared to biscuits, a memorable Friday would be had in this absolutely mundane month of May.

We awoke to a beautiful spread of breakfast choices from scrambled eggs to fresh fruit. Taking advantage of this surplus of food, we left the Hilton with 30 plates to wash and rooms to clean.

Pulling up to the field we all gawked at the complex. A large wood paneled gate welcomed us into the exquisite surroundings. To our immediate right was the USA Baseball store, and straight ahead the stadium field we would call home for the coming days. Looking down at the field we waited patiently for our chance to step on to its grass.

As we walked on to the field via the right corner, the grandstands that cast their shadow opposed us. I think this was about the time most of us finally realized, we made it. Everything we had done through the season led up to this practice. The practice on major league grass, at the World Series, amongst eight elite teams, calling the Dowling Golden Lions one of them. I was immersed in a vat of confidence. I had flashbacks of my previous career, and quickly realized this was my most fond.

As far as the practice went people, this might have been the hardest we went all year. I am talking harder than Friday, "Hell in the Cell," to punishment runs that never happened...and the proof is in the pudding. I never believed it was scientifically possible to supersaturate a cotton t-shirt, but I guess science has its ways of astonishing us all. I don't think the field crew had to turn the sprinklers on after the obviously not acclimated New York squad held its practice.

Through many cups of water and the thrill of being in North Carolina, we made it through the sun stricken day sporting the foundation of fresh new tans and slightly dehydrated muscles.

Chronologically correct, we steamed our new white Adidas shirts during out showers to reduce wrinkling thanks to a tip from our fearless athletic director Rick Cole and prepared for the nights festivities. Tonight was a banquet the NCAA put on to congratulate the players on making it to the World Series.

The banquet, in my opinion, was held in a gorgeous location; an amphitheater situated within the woods. All the teams followed a path through a botanical like garden and eventually into a large wooden structure where the 8 teams participating had reserved tables. It was awkward I will admit at first, sitting next to teams you would eventually play, but I can't imagine how it must have been for them, us being obviously the best dressed at the occasion.

The festivity launched and speakers included Jack McKeon, the World Series winning manager from the 2003 Florida Marlins that defeated the New York Yankees in six games. This was a man of ultimate charisma. He slated in jokes within an overall inspiring content of stories of players past, and spoke elegantly over many.

The food was pretty good, an Italian spread flanked by brownies and pink lemonade. But the real highlight of tonight was the World Series Trivia in which all the teams had to elect two representatives to take part in. The Golden Lions chose the dashing young Justin Brooks, and the striking Drew Varela. Through intense rounds and staggering questions that would bring giants to beg, the Golden Lions took the series by firestorm and came out on top. Guessing or not, me thinks I saw the sword of Zeus stab our elects with knowledge they never knew they had.

We just win it all don't we?

Thursday, May 21:

Now, we must be just annoying the osprey's that nest above the Curtin Center as we gathered and prepared to board the bus for the long drive to Cary, North Carolina.

We sat around and observed other coaches and administration gather with us to wish us luck as we departed to greener grass. All of us surely after winning on Sunday, have been drooling over pictures of the USA Baseball Training Complex that the tournament is being held at.

With the excitement of getting on to the field, we departed with newly made memories of achievement in Rindge, New Hampshire. We lost the first game and took the rest of the regional tournament by storm that put us in the spotlight for Cary.

The previous couple of days we held practice back on our old stomping grounds and enjoyed pizza, barbeque, and lectures on how to handle ourselves while being interviewed, and what we can and cannot wear while in Cary. We have to look schnazzy for all the sports fans out there and handle ourselves like gentlemen at a southern wedding.

Since Sunday, our feet haven't touched the ground. We noticeably float around from point A to B with radiant smiles on our faces. What should be a time of panic from grades being released, was replaced with a high feeling of nirvana. Winning the last four games in a row, it was like we were halfway through Buddha's Eight Fold Path, and the smooth wood of the Regional Trophy physically enlightened us.

We boarded the bus and said our respective farewells, wishing the rowing team luck on our way out.

Saddled up and ready to roll, the drop down flat screens flickered, and then lit up with the beginning of the journey's cinematic adventures. Right about then was about the time I enjoyed a similar adventure that starred at the back of my eyelids and the entire dreaming prowess I possess. The trip, for me, was a blurry sideshow of momentary wakeups that included looking around myself 360 degrees to check if everything is ok, sound bytes of muffled audio emitted from the bus' speakers, camera flashes, awful smells coming from the bathroom, English's small bladder making its way through the twisted extremities that occupied the aisles, and bursts of laughter from some of the movies.

In due time, we arrived at a fortunate Ruby Tuesday and took our seats of four guys per table with ease and smooth transition. Some of the guys were sleepwalking I think. Personally, my table and I dominated the salad bar and went with a smart choice of mini combinations that we hoped wouldn't give us stomach problems the rest of the journey.

All the administrators and coaches sat at one table in the corner, sharing laughs and talking politics while one man was left out. Like the adult forced to sit at the children's table on Thanksgiving due to space problems, Coach McGorty turned an unfortunate incident into an opportunity to dine with the players. Soon after, the checks came and we headed back on that slow roller.

Awake and fed, a lot of us made the rest of the trip without sleeping. I watched the sun go down over the moving treetops. The sky lit up in many shades of color and the aeshetic value of the trip started creeping into my bones. Sitting on a bus with my best friends, going to play on some beautiful field, being treated like kings and snapping pictures. Life doesn't get much better than this.

Couple of hours later, we pulled up to our new home, the Hilton Garden Inn. Greeted by signs and balloons commemorating our achievement of making it to the College World Series, they had firm handshakes.

We went to our rooms, lugging our heavy bags with us and began to settle in for the night. Somewhere along the bus ride, I remember Brooks tapping my shoulder to show me something he had found. He opened his hand and inside his palm was the green glow of a smooth, emerald looking rock. I have no idea where the rascal got a hold of this on a bus, but I took it as a sign from the ancient Greek Gods. Zeus must have placed it with us as a sign of respect for us Golden Lions. Uncle Frankie Intagliata and Drew Varela's camcorders red circles on their record buttons will surely fade to pink, as memories will be made, experiences shared, and miracle victories are once again had...and blogged.

Look for the next story about our first day walking into our new home field, our practice, and shannanigans in North Carolina. Until then, safe trips to all that plan on attending, and gather resources homebodies. It's about to be a long week for our opponents.

Buddy's Blog from the NCAA East Regional at Franklin Pierce University in Rindge, NH

Sunday, May 17:

Buddy and Ryan after their trek through the woods to catch frogs

We've made it to the fateful Sunday. After last night's insane come from behind win, we stroll into today full of confidence and swagger. Swagger that started with the Holiday Inn Express making a Golden Lion breakfast especially for us. The layout included hometown greats such as scrambled eggs and biscuits, as well as childhood favorites like sausage patties and toast. Great scholars of times past all agreed that, "A man's breakfast can dictate his day," which is completely fabricated statement but I could see it being true. The gist of it is, we dined like kings this morning.

I sat there and observed every player with a smile on their face. Sure we had an enormous undertaking ahead of us today, but everyone was in the moment it seemed, absorbing everything around the,. We've truly come together.

The great thing about our team that differs from many others is that there is no real caste system. Meaning, us upper classmen do not treat under classmen as subordinates. Yet, the under classmen naturally respect the word of us, and we respect them back equally. This has created a harmonious effect. We have a well-oiled machine that manages itself at this point. The players know their roles and we have unspoken captains, and leaders of the team that guide effectively. Mind you, this was all observed over orange juice and eggs, but can be seen at all our practices and games through the ease of operations.

Through awkward duck walls and grimacing faces, the players lugged their belongings in one shot, no matter how many bags it was. It is truly amazing what the human will do for shortcuts. It's hard to imagine a guy somehow drapping six bags, each weighing 40 pounds each over his body. Shoulders become shelves, and elbows some sort of rack mechanism. They go through this struggle to make it in one trip.

We boarded our coach bus and headed towards Pappas Field. The sky was gray with fast moving clouds that looked as though they were rushing to get somewhere, hopefully nowhere near the field. It was pretty silent I have to say, everyone had their respective headphones on for the first time. There was a constant back ground noise of Spanish jams, rap, Dave's beloved R&B, some country and some rock I guess. All together it sounded like an urban setting overrun by cats and they were fighting a turf war over a last stand of kitty litter.

Some of us in the back of the bus, including me, had been working on creating lyrics to our very own country song throughout the trip and the entire way there we sang our little hearts out to lines like, "It was the summer of '93, and that's when she left me." And another, "I turned to the bottle and then the bottle turned on me." Other greats like, "Floatin on that muddy water, and kissing farmer's daughters." Other lines we sang might be too explicit for blog content, but watch the music charts for Dowling music productions!

As we got to the field, the position players headed to the cage to hit and most of the pitchers stayed on the bus to relax. Ryan Gemma and I decided to take a hike into the New Hampshire woodland, up a steep hill and into the forest. On this hike I managed to catch several frogs and even left with a walking stick or two. It's good to get on top of a hill and breathe in fresh mountain air before a game. But I almost sacrificed my blood for it as on the way I picked ticks off of me. Terrifying.

A bit later on I got a chance to sit next to a stream with some of the guys. We all sat there and just hung out, at one point Trainor jokingly asked, "So what you guys thinking about?" I remember Pembroke answering, "I was actually just visualizing an at bat." We sat and skipped rocks into the water and relaxed before the biggest games of our college career. It's important to stay loose.

Here we were with another shot at beating Adelphi, who its no secret has had our number lately. It just felt a little different today, as none of us were pressing to perform. We were all just relaxed. We finally knew and believed what we were about.

The team lined up for the National Anthem

Game one. Both teams were announced and we stood on the line as the national anthem was played. I looked back into the stands and some of the parents and fans of our players. All of them were smiling and all of them might as well had been standing with their hats off on the line with us. I'd like to take this opportunity to reach out and say we all appreciate everything you do for us. It is truly above and beyond. We had athletic administrators on the sideline with us today, people that woke up early and made the drive to support us. You know who you are, and we all thank you. You make us happy to play for a college that continues to cater to its athletes and take personal attention and care to us.

We were home for the first game, with new traditions before we take the field. Coach McGorty took us out with a signature, "You're in business speech," that continues to impress the originator. Stay hot.

We jogged out to the field loose and relaxed. I don't know if it was a general attitude or al lthe muscle relaxers guys were on for their injuries. Either way, we were confident and it showed.

Through the course of the game, defensively guys were making plays left and right. Ground balls were all fielded cleanly and thrown to first base with style. Three double plays were turned in key spots as our middle infielders put on an exhibit of toughness, hanging on the bag until Adelphi spikes forced them off.

Our outfielders chased down fly balls like burglars of their mother's jewelry and our corner guys dove and picked baseballs up like they do it in their sleep, which is weird imagery I realize, but that's how it was.

Our bats were swift and aquainted themselves with the NCAA baseballs the entire game, some getting broken hearts from short meetings. We would go up 4-0 early on and never look back once.

After winning the first game with professional class, we took a short break to indulge in food and drink, and conversed with all who had made the trip northward.

We smelled blood. Not literally of course, but we smelled that meatloaf cookin downstairs. We smelled those good ole' ballpark hot dogs in concesion, which we literally did.

Slicing through the thick shrubs of the weekend jungle, our machetes have been sharpened and we began to see the light of an opening. With a 5-hour energy shot or two, we prepared for one last stretch of thick, thorn ridden bush.

Again, I'd like to extend an invite for all readers to visit the main baseball page for precise in game statistics, as this is merely an aesthetic entity of stats that uses words, not numbers.

Game 2. We put our "puppy," Marc Rutledge on the mound for the start. He started against them the weekend before and got hit up a bit, so he was certainly looking to right his last outing.

Adelphi started their ace Keith Couch against us on a days rest and Marc would fo right hook for right uppercut with him for 7 innings, putting up goose-eggs and shoving it. Kid did a great job keeping the ball at the knees and certainly added to crushing the morale of opposing batters more even after game one of shutout ball.

We scrapped one run to the dish. With a 1-0 ball game and Adelphi with runners on second and third, we brought in Gabriel Duran in to hold the lead. All these guys had something to prove to Adelphi after being hit by them, and prove he did. Duran would cruise through Adelphi, carving them up like a chef at a president's wedding, serving up delicious fastballs and sliders that deceived all of their hitters.

I sat in the dugout with my friends, my teammates, and brothers. We stood underneath the radiant glow of heat lamps that were turned on. We watched as Duran induced a soft groundball back to him, fielded it cleanly, and threw to first base where Pembroke made the catch. Now, whatever I said about the last games dog pile read that again, but multiply the decibels of screams by a thousand, divide by five, subtract 15, add 7, then multiply by a trillon.

World Series bound

I cannot even imagine describing the words to express the euphoric feeling that took over my entire mind, and all of our minds. I have to say, as we stood in the center of the infield and celebrated, Dom Scala, the head coach of the defeated Panthers, came to us and shook all our hands and personally congratulated us and wished us luck. What a class act. We all extend our gratitude to the Panthers and look forward to our bouts next year. But this year, we have more work to do.

We grasped each other and with dirty uniforms, awful body odor and bloody elbows, stood amongst the flashes of cameras and cheering fans, and cradled our beautiful regional championship trophy like the last baby on Earth.

I also have to add that watching the scientific approach that our coaches took toward these games was astounding. Coach McGorty and Coach Farrell both stepped up to the plate with the bases loaded and hit grand slams for us. It was hard for our head coach to go down before the tournament, but he was in our minds the whole time, and we're glad we could impress him with the regional tournament victory and bring the program fame under our coaches names.

The College World Series here we come, Holy %^&*! Pardon my French.

Stay updated while we stay in North Carolina through a continuation of this blog that you will find easily located on the main page of www.dowlingathletics.com. We look forward to bringing you all back home a national champs trophy.

Extended thanks for everybody that helped us get this far. Trainers, staff, our great bus driver, franchise restaurants that kept us fed and gave me stomach aches, Rick Cole for staying up late and waiting for us at Curtin to congratulate us, everyone. Everyone and everything. Thanks turf, thanks trees, thank you weather. Hell, thank you Holiday Inn towels for drying us off after showers.

Saturday, May 16:

The team taking batting practice before the game

Miracle. I'm not going to bother talking about today's morning or the attitude amongst the players. Tonight was one hell of a night. A night we'll remember for a long time.

For all of you that got to experience the game over the radio, thanks for listening. I only hope I can paint a slight picture of what the place looked like after tonight's memorable post-season victory.

Diving right into things, we got lunch at Applebee's around 1 PM. Coach let us get whatever we wanted on the menu with the exception of no appetizers. Orders drastically changed as guys were getting humongous racks of ribs and sizzling plates came flying from the kitchen.

We headed to the field and watched Assumption take on Wilmington in an elimination match. The game would be close until late in the game, when Wilmington ran up the score with a seemingly unstoppable late inning rally.

After the teams cleared, we took the home side dugout and began stretching out. They had a mirror in the bullpen, all us backwards guys reflected back a little less.

The game began with senior Kevin McCormack on the bump. He had a bumpy first inning but after which cruised to late in the game and kept us within striking distance.

On the offensive side, we had been hitting balls hard the entire game just right at their guys. Luck seemed not on our side as we were smoking pitches and they would hit leather.

In the 8th inning, we would finally get a run across the plate making the score 3-1. Heading into the 9th, Andrew Varela pitched masterfully and kept us right there. This was a key point Coach McGorty would later bring up, "Damage Control." How important it is for guys to avoid the big inning meaning keep the score down, 1 run innings, 2 run innings. Cabrera had a ball hit over his head one inning. He relayed it right to Squeri and he threw the guy out at home. This is all damage control, holding the dog's head down when he is growling at you.

In an explosive 9th inning, freshman Taylor Bargiacchi would get the call to hit after being cold all game. He has been producing in the clutch for us the entire season, this being the most important spot of his career no doubt. Taylor would put a ball in the left center gap and start us off with a single. Every inning we have put our leadoff guy on the bases, now it was a matter of us executing. Matt Monastero was up next. He hit a groundball right up the middle and Taylor somehow beat out the throw to second base, avoiding the double play and Matt would hustle to first even with his bad ankle as the ump called, "Safe!"

Now we had something going, and we all knew it. First and second, no outs. Joe Trainor laid down a perfect sacrifice bunt down the first base side moving the runners over to second and third.

With 1 out, runners on second and third, Frank Intagliata who has been a force for us all tournament, hit a soft chopping ground ball over a jumping pitchers glove bringing in a run and beating out the throw to first.

The score was no 3-2 and Eddie Squeri was up to bat next. We had runners on first and third, with Joel Duverge on third base that came in to pinch run for Matty.

Now there are moments in college sports that everyone remembers. Final three pointers to win the game at the buzzer, walk-off homeruns, maybe even Smarty Jones being defeated against all odds.

Squeri roped a ball into the right center gap and put the damn thing to the fence. The kid had just cleared the bases for us and brought in Frankie from first base to score. We had just won the game in an inning. As Frank crossed the plate, the entire dugout emptied and turned into a western ghost town. Screaming and yelling, jumping and muscles contracted, we piled up on Dominican's side and quite honestly, was the most euphoric moment of mine, and everyone's baseball career. One pile was not enough; we would pile up again to get Squeri his love just in front of home plate.

I left that last inning with excitement I've never felt, of course, but also a ripped up left foot from being cleated, and I wouldn't have it any other way. What a night.

In the cool flowing mist of Pappas Field, Golden Lion clenched fists would be raised up together, and a momentum was built that rivals the seven great wonders of the world. So after tonight, better make it eight.

I encourage readers to visit the game story page for further game reference, as you could imaning I am emotional lately and may not be writing to effectively, rather on a bit of a whim or shooting from the hip.

But, a little bit of fact. With two wins today the Golden Lions would not only take the season series against their obvious rivals, the Adelphi Panthers, but they will go somewhere no other Dowling College baseball team has ever been before, the College World Series.

After tonight's game, I had the pleasure of interviewing our coaching staff along with several Dowling players. The content of this interview will be posted next as a bonus. Isn't that just special.

Stay tuned sports fans. Nestle yourselves into your favorite chairs. Gather round the radio like when you were kids, and listen in as your Golden Lions machete through the thick shrubs and pioneer a path straight to North Carolina. Yee-Haw people!

Friday, May 15:

Ryan Gemma's (right) pre-game ritual dance

Adrenaline, a ball player's closest friend. May 15th was a day full of it, and something the Golden Lions had been missing for some time. With many of our players battling injuries like pulled hamstrings and tight lower backs, sprained ankles and bum arms, adrenaline was the refreshing hormone that was felt surging through their veins, and confusing their brains into submission from the pain.

The day started off early. We boarded the bus at 7:15 AM and headed towards Pappas Field for the long day ahead. It was early, sure, but there wasn't a guy with a tired look on his face. It might as well have been 8 at night on a Friday.

We drove past the field on the high rising road, looking down on a field being prepared. Lined, raked, and being swept into perfection. We went into the dugouts smelling the dense woods around the field and swimming in the morning humidity. Cleats were being laced up, bags were slid into the dugout.

Across the field, the black and yellow uniforms of the Adelphi Panthers represented our chance at our first tournament win.

Close to game time, we had an unfortunate mishap with our Head Coach Celano where he was not feeling well and had to leave the team to rehabilitate. Coach McGorty and Coach Farrell stepped up to lead us. I remember a speech McGorty gave us before the game started. He said, "I see your mustache, and I raise you a mohawk." I later found out this was a Celano original and executed by McGorty. Either was, it was great. With our ace Gabriel Duran on the mound, and plenty of excitement, we were all anxious to beat the Panthers.

The game would turn ou to be a heartbreaker that none of us saw coming. The Panthers would extend a 7-0 lead before the 3rd inning. Our spirits seemed crushed in the dugout, it was sad. If there was a positive, we held them at 7-1 until late in the game, where they would scrap one more run off a sacrifice fly, and only had 2 hits over the next 7 innings. At least we put a bad taste in their mouth.

There was no time for sulking amongst us. Some of us headed back to the bus to sit in the A/C, others stuck around the field to catch the next game where Dominican and Pierce would contend. As far as that game went, it was tied 4-4 in the 9th when Dominican would drive a run across the plate to take down and eliminate the favored Franklin Pierce team, 2 and out. After Dominican losing their first match against Wilmington, to see them come out and take down Pierce gave us all a vague idea of what we had to come out and do next, beat Wilmington.

We sat on the bleachers in right field and kept things real loose. We joked around with each other and realized what we had been seemingly missing in our post-season pressure situations...having fun.

All season we had been a team that was machined by laughs and an upbeat dugout. The biggest part of our success could be credited towards our immense team chemistry. We were all best friends, and I personally wouldn't have it any other way. It can make a win that much better, and a loss easier to deal with.

We walked into the dugout for game 2, elimination staring us down like a cage up, mistreated rottweiler. We would starte it back down until it wept, and we came out and played like we have all year.

Sitting in the dugout, I was not available to throw this game because I had just thrown 6 innings against Adelphi, so I got a chance to watch a team cocoon, go into metamorphosis and come out a new animal that we were familiar with. The bats started to light up 1 to 9. We were hitting with authority and putting balls into the gaps. Regardless of the score that produced a noticeably different offensice team stepped back onto the field for game two.

Buddy pitching in game one against Adelphi

I'd have to use an analogy to support this. I'd say we were a blue-collar type team. We work hard all year and love out 2-hour practices through the entire season. We like to wear jeans as much as we can, and don't care for dressing up much. I watched all of us put on tuxedos for the conference tournament championship, and none of us liked the way it felt, or fit. We put on our tuxedos again for game one against Adelphi, but the thing is, we have never been the team to dress up and look, "prettier". We just come out and mash, we pitch, and we make plays. We got our jeans dirty, and we prefer it that way. For game two, we threw the jeans back on, and we played like we had a renewed sense of being.

In the 9th inning, Albero would come out after tossing a hell of a game. It's good to see such a young kid full of unlimited potential. Andrew English would come in faced with a first and second situation, with 1 out.

Off Albero, Wilmington would single to the right side past the gloves of diving Trainor and Pembroke and bring in 2 guys making the game 3-3. With an eventual bases loaded situation and tie game, English would induce a groundball to Squeri who tossed it perfectly to Trainor who turned a 6-4-3 doube play that kept the game tied. The entire bench erupted with screams. A synchronized release of adrenaline pumped through the entire roster's veins, maybe some of the parents as well. Who knows, maybe some random guy walking by caught a little hormone too. Anyway, it was just what we needed. We needed to be reminded our blood wasn't red, but blue and gold.

Now, Casey Rafferty, our "Eye-in-the-Sky," would relay a game changing message to Coach Farrell. Apparently, a pinch runner Wilmington brought in just before they drove runs across the plate to tie the game was not listed on their official post-season roster. After a long delay, the game would be reset to the 9th inning, man on first, 2 outs, Dowling winning 3-2. We sent out closer Joe Trainor to the mound as he faced down Wilimington's number 9 hitter, a lefty who had been making solid contact all day.

There is no need to butter anything up. Trainor threw three fastballs by this kid and struck him out looking to end the game. It even deserves its own paragraph.

Adrenaline through our veins again, 2% red blood cells, 98% animal. I don't see us putting on our tuxes anymore, these jeans just fit too good.

Thursday, May 14:

Buddy (far right) and his roomates modeling the mohawks while waiting to leave for the game

In the midst of dreams, most of the team was awoken this morning around 9 AM by the sound of clashing gears and the spinning blades of lawnmowers. The Holiday Inn apparently schedules its once a week landscaping for crack of dawn Thursdays.

Most of us skipped the continental breakfast this morning to stay in and watch Charlie's Angels on TBS or stayed up too late watching compelling searches for river monsters on the History Channel. Either way, through an uneventful morning of lounging in bed and dealing with overly polite maids offering towels, the one thing on all our minds was the task ahead.

We tried our hardest to relax and counted down our timepieces until they read 1:00. We suited up and made our way to the coach bus, trickling on like a leaky faucet.

The atmosphere was still light like the day before, but now there was a definite foundation of seriousness and continuous moments of silence as we neared Pappas Field. Whoever was two to a row the day before was now three. Whoever sat solo in thier row now doubled up. We were all accompanied by our chance at revenge, and revenge sat silent with us.

The Golden Lions await their chance to play

Some of the guys even brough their bats on the bus, believing if they rode down below with the bags, they might smite their averages or not produce a hit for them, who knows. But it's an acceptable process all college ball players go through, superstitions.

Arriving at the field we watched Assumption and Franklin Pierce battle until the rain started coming down at a steady drizzle, and quickly headed back to our bus to sit and wait.

We crowded the back of the bus because it was the only view where we could still see the game that was being played. Through fogged windows and the beads of water, we watched as Assumption would take the lead 3-2 in the 7th, and the tarps would be pulled on in the top of the 8th. After that, we soon heard from coach that our game had been moved to the next day at 10 AM.

Heading back to our hotel, we were dissapointed we wouldn't get a chance to play today, but the spirit stayed high among the Mohawks, and we all looked forward to dinner.

The team sits through the rain delay on the bus

Tonight we went to Chili's, and through an uneventful day, most of the events went down at dinner. Some notable things; a game was invented where people sneeze on each other, who shall remain nameles due to parents sake. A real swing flu spreader, but whatever it got a laugh. I remember glancing to my left and observing my coaches sharing a sundae, digging into its delicious mountains of premium ice cream with spoons, and giggling like small children on monkey bars.

With full stomachs, a new game plan, and the whole crew in New Hampshire supporting us, we look forward to fighting the good fight. Good night, and may god bless.

Wednesday, May 13:

The Golden Lions practicing on Day One at the NCAA East Regional

Mohawk Memoirs: A Dance in New Hampshire

Through the eyes of the ospreys that nest above the Curtin Center - a team of Dowling student-athletes startled them this morning as they resembled not men, but ancient predators sporting Mohawk haircuts that surely once called native to an ancient Long Island.

Instead of mocking the Mohawk tribes that roamed this land, we only hope to honor them by summoning their spirits in the form of the, "Dowling Approach," ; driving the ball back up the middle and executing out pitches and defense.

At 10 AM sharp, we boarded the long house on wheels and took our respective positions within it. Of course the "A-Team," dominated the backseats, while the other strapping young men filled the rows with talent. The bus just stunk of it. Talent that is...Talent and an aura of confidence that would rival Redcoats and challenged crooked politicians.

The coach bus TV screens lit up with movies, among them were classic flicks like, "Knocked Up," and "Cable Guy." But a movie none of us saw coming was a real must-see. Starring Nicholas Cage and other soon to be greats, "Con-Air."

Within the tight grasp of Con-Air, about three-quarters of the way through it, we finally arrived at our temporary home, the Holiday Inn Express. As we were all looking forward to getting up and straightening our contorted bodies after 5 hours of awkward sleeping positions and a general musky stench that inhabited the ride with us thanks to egg sandwiches from Idle Hour Deli (Thanks Guys).

Joel Duverge bunting during batting practice

Coach relayed our room assignments and gave us a whole five minutes to drop our stuff off and get back on the bus to head to our hour long practice at Franklin Pierce. We didn't care a bit, we were filled to the gills with tenacity and anxious to get on that Raven turf.

Some of us returning, others first timers, here we were. Back in the Regional tournament with the first days climax around the corner. Our valiant head coach Celano counted us down while we stood at the gate like we were horses at the Belmont. 3, 2, 1...and we jogged on to the field.

It was a mad dash to get properly stretched for batting practice as we were on the official clock. 59 minutes left and counting before the next time we step on to the field. It was chaotic organization. Some guys were throwing, others were jogging, cleats and shoes were flying overhead like kamikazi birds. Bird lovers aside, the L-screen was in position and hitting groups were called out, like a fine symphony everything eventually came together and same of our best swings all year took place on the field. Tufano even went yard to left. I don't like to brag but...I also took some phenomenal fungo swings as well and fed my infielders quality groundballs like Wendy's on Montauk highway feeds our sluggers.

After batting practice we took a nice infield-outfield and adjusted ourselves to the high-bouncing, unforgiving nature of the field turf and finished on a high note with Coach McGorty's dazzling homeplate pop-ups...but we love him anyway.

Shortly after we hit up the Olive Garden, where we were family, but fed like homeless strangers. We await tomorrow's 6 PM game against Adelphi, and redemption. With Coach McGorty's speech when we returned from dinner fresh in our minds, we hit the pillows and focus in for the task that lay ahead.