Bergino

Virtually every Sunday from April through August, I can be found on a ballfield in Central Park, playing in the Big Apple Softball League. Our team, the Skins, has played in this particular league for the past three seasons. It’s considered one of the best men’s modified fast-pitch leagues in NYC. And our best player is a guy named Dan.

As often happens amongst softball teammates, we usually know each other’s actual first name, although sometimes we know a guy strictly by his nickname (i.e., Bugsy, Blaze, Bellevue, etc.). Knowing a teammate’s last name, where he lives, or his dating/marital status… seldom. What he does for a living… fuggedaboudit.

So, here’s Dan. For the most part, this is what we know about him… Dan can hit for average, hit for power, run, field and throw. As baseball scouts like to say, he’s a five-tool player. Simply, Dan’s a heckuva ballplayer.

But, apparently, softball is not Dan’s greatest strength.

The other day, while flipping through the current issue of Esquire magazine, I came across a story about the best young teachers in New York.  Esquire’s editors asked every public school principal in NYC to nominate the rising stars on their faculties. There, on page 223, was a full-page shot of one of these teachers, wearing a borrowed $2,700 Prada suit and $1,000 Movado lizard strap watch.

The guy in the photo… the Skins best player, Dan.

Throughout the entire softball season and thereafter, he never mentioned that he was nominated as one of the best teachers in NYC; never bragged to being photographed by Esquire. You see, Dan is one of those guys that speaks softly and carries a big stick. Funny, it always seems the true stars are like that. In softball. And in life.