Stay Hot Toaster!

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT!

During the Golden Age of slo-pitch softball in Kenosha, my 400 Club team made an annual journey to La Crosse to participate in a tournament. It was a fun-packed weekend and a road trip that the entire squad looked forward to making each year. With family and friends included, it wasn’t unusual for the caravan to western Wisconsin to number over thirty people. It was such a popular event that players from other teams often offered their services to the “Club”, so they too could be part of this yearly bash.

One such player was Larry Tostrud, otherwise known as “Toaster.”

Before going on, let me make it clear to you that Toaster, like most of the guys who played for the 400 Club, was quite a character. 

Toaster was a young, up-and-coming softball player when he joined us in La Crosse. In the years that followed he not only became a regular member of the 400 Club, but also went on to develop into an outstanding hitter that played for many top ranked teams. Over two decades later, he is still playing at a competitive level. 

Although it was always referred to as the La Crosse tournament, over the years we played in many different small towns in the area. Cities like Stoddard, Sparta and Brownsville have all had the honor of playing host to the rambunctious 400 Club team.

No matter what city we happened to be playing in, we traditionally stayed at the Bluff View Motel in La Crosse. Because of the distance that we had to travel, we were never scheduled to play on Friday night. This allowed us to check into the motel and carry out another time-honored tradition, going downstairs to the Anvil Lounge.

The Anvil Lounge was your typical motel bar, 12 stools and three or four small tables in the corner…and one large iron anvil. The first time we visited the Anvil Lounge, our first baseman Mark Montague felt compelled to head-butt it several times. But that’s a story for another time; this particular Friday night belonged to Toaster.

It was about 9:00 p.m. and most of the team had been enjoying adult beverages for a couple of hours. Our star pitcher, Danny Llanas, had just instructed our lovely bartender, Joan, on the fine art of mixing “root beer” shots. The first batch was making its way down the bar when Toaster made his entrance.

And what a spectacular entrance it was.

He bounced into the motel lounge grinning from ear-to-ear, clad only in a t-shirt, gym shorts and a pair of flip-flops. The problem was that his shorts were pulled down in the front and therefore were exposing his package. You know, his junk was showing. 

Hearing the snickers, the fetching Joan looked over from behind the bar and noticed that little Toaster was making an appearance. Undaunted, she smirked at “Toaster” and commented, “That’s nice, but it’s not hard.” A hush fell over the Anvil Lounge. 

Then Toaster, not to be outdone, smiled broadly and pointed at the attractive bartender saying. “Baby, that’s where you come in!” The bar erupted in laughter and a blushing Joan put her head down and starting mixing another batch of “root beer” shots. 

After making himself decent, Toaster proceeded to do serious damage to the alcohol supply at the Anvil Lounge. Feeling a bit cock-sure (pun intended), he asked me what position he would be playing tomorrow. I informed him that the regulars would play the field and he would be the designated hitter.

When he loudly informed me that he hadn’t come all this way just to be the DH and sit on the bench, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up. Before I could say anything, Jimmy G tapped me on the shoulder and quietly said, “That’s okay Paul, I will DH. Let the superstar play rightfield.”

Telling Jimmy G that I appreciated the gesture, I then informed Toaster that he would be playing rightfield. Satisfied, he went back to his mission of becoming extremely intoxicated. Shaking my head, I again thanked Jimmy G and made my way up to my room, after all, we had a 10:00 a.m. game tomorrow.

The next morning, the pounding rain on my room’s window woke me up well before I had intended to get up. After muttering a few expletives, I got dressed and rounded up the squad to head to the ballpark. It was no small undertaking, because first I had to convince them that there was a chance we would play.

Driving through a downpour, I thought that there would be no way we would be able to play. Much to my surprise, when we arrived the games were being played despite the standing water on the field. Catching the attention of one of the poncho-wearing umpires, I asked, “Are you kidding?” “Rain or shine, buddy. Rain or shine” was his reply.

Resigned to the fact that we were indeed playing, I started making out a line-up. Gathering the team, I called out the batting order, “Okay, Red – 2B, Eddie - LC, Hollywood - SS, Munk - C, Ronnie – 3B, Toaster – RF…” Before I could say another word I was rudely interrupted by, “That’s okay Paul, I will DH. Let Jimmy G play rightfield.”

Wiping the rain from my spectacles, I looked up from my rain soaked scorebook to see a very hung-over Toaster clad in an orange Hawaiian shirt. Before I could reply to him, the normally congenial Jimmy G blurted out, “F*ck you Toaster! You go out there in this slop. You wanted to play rightfield, I will DH.”

Despite the weather, I beamed as I finished reading the line-up and we played softball in a constant shower. I think that we won the game, but I’m not sure. I do know for sure that Jimmy G was the DH in that game and sat next to me on the covered bench. Meanwhile, Toaster slid and flopped around in the mud, all the while struggling not to get sick all over his orange Hawaiian shirt. 

Now you can see why the annual 400 Club La Crosse tournament was a tradition that the team always looked forward to and why players from other teams would want to be a part of it. Stay hot Toaster! Until next time…from the booth.

Who Wants Pizza?

If the title didn’t pique your interest, I’m sure the scrumptious photo did. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy pizza? Personally, I can’t think of a single person I know that doesn’t like pizza. Granted, some of us relish a delicious pie more than others, but I have never heard anyone say anything negative about this culinary delight. That would be heresy.

After all, pizza is like sex. Even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good.

Based on the premise that all pizzas are at least pretty good, there are some better than others. And everyone has an opinion on whose pizzeria makes the best pie. Ask a group of people and you will get at an abundance of assorted responses. Plus, a lot of hemming and hawing to go along with those responses.

Two years ago I posted a “Best Pizzeria in Kenosha” poll and the initial response was quite brisk and varied. I didn’t have to elaborate or set parameters, people immediately began casting votes.

For those interested in the details, the poll consists of my top ten pizzerias (at the time) in Kenosha. I had to draw the line somewhere, that’s why there are only ten. Reluctantly, I had to leave off fine establishments like Tenuta’s, Rosati’s and Rocky Rococo.

Looking back, I should have included Rocky’s in my top ten instead of Renzo’s. The only reason Renzo’s made the list is because they make the best pizza turnovers in Kenosha. I know, technically a turnover isn’t a pizza, but they are soooo good. And, besides, it’s my poll.

Other local pizza joints that did not garner a spot on my poll were Frankie D’s, Antonio’s, Toppers, Little Caesars, Domino’s, Pizza Hut, Nick-N-Willy’s, Slice of NY Pizzeria, Papa John’s and Papa Murphy’s. 

Some of these didn’t make it because I have never tried them and others because I had tried them. Enough said.

One pizzeria that didn’t make my list because I have not tried their pizza yet was Luisa’s Pizza. Located in Salem, Wisconsin, according to a 2011 Kenosha News poll, Luisa’s has the “Best Pizza West of the I.”

The only reason I haven’t tried their pizza yet is because of its location. Unfortunately, I don’t travel so well these days and Luisa’s is located at the corner of Hwy 50 & 317^th Avenue in Salem.

I have heard nothing but wonderful things about Luisa’s and some day, some how, some way, I will try their pizza. That pledge goes out to my Facebook friend Paul De Luisa, the owner/operator.

A couple other restaurants that would have made the poll had they been in Kenosha are situated right over the state line in Illinois. They are Pizza House on Sheridan Road in Zion and Quonset Hut on Grand Avenue in Waukegan.

Pizza House was a favorite haunt of mine during my halcyon days while working at American Air Filter in Zion. Whether it was something for lunch or a pie picked up on the way home, I was never disappointed. The double-decker from Pizza House was good for a minimum of two meals, even for a veteran trencherman like me.

The Quonset Hut was a popular place to go after a Kenosha Flyers hockey game played across the border in the land of Lincoln. The pizza and Italian bombers were top-notch and it didn’t hurt that they served me beer when I was only 17. Hey, don’t blame them; I was big for my age.

While we are still in Illinois, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention some of the iconic pizzerias there. Places like Lou Malnati’s, Giordano’s, Pizzeria Uno, Connie’s, Gino’s East, Aurelio’s, Home Run Inn and Edwardo’s come to mind.

So far, I haven’t had the pleasure of sampling the much-ballyhooed fare from any of these restaurants. Lou Malnati’s offers mail order pizzas that are partially baked, flash frozen, ready to be baked and eaten. I was tempted to order a pie from Lou’s, but the price quickly quelled my desire to place an order. $57.99 for two 9” deep-dish pizzas is a bit costly, even for a pizza devotee like me.

Based on the poll results, not everyone agrees with my tastes. Like I said earlier, if you ask a group of people what their favorite pizzeria is, you will get a multitude of answers.

Here were the poll results:

Carl’s – 25%
Valeo’s – 17%
Pa’s – 16%
Casa Capri – 15%
Luigi’s - 8%
DeRango’s - 4%
Infusino’s - 4%
Jimano’s - 4%
Renzo’s - 4%
Ruffolo’s - 3%

Surprised by the results? I must admit there were a few eye-openers. 

While I am making lists, here is my personal 2014 Top Ten list of Kenosha pizzerias:

1. Valeo’s
2. Sal’s
3. Pa’s
4. Luigi’s
5. Casa Capri
6. DeRango’s
7. Rocky Rococo’s
8. Infusino’s
9. Jimano’s
10. Renzo’s

Maybe, if there is enough interest, we could run another poll on this blog site. Let me know!

Until next time…from the booth.

Happy 30th Anniversary Play Ball

This summer marked the thirtieth anniversary of the Play Ball newspaper. The eight-page tabloid was the effort of publishers Glen Marescalco and Jack Ostrowski. During the first two weeks of the free publication’s short existence, Don Cox and John Rampart assisted them. The paper was published bi-monthly beginning May 29, 1984, with the last issue coming out August 21 that same year. As you might have guessed, the paper was devoted to all levels of Kenosha softball and baseball. Although it only survived the one-year, it was a must-read periodical.

The cover of the inaugural issue featured team pictures of both the 12” men and women Kenosha City champions from the previous (1983) season. Current Kenosha Mayor, Keith Bosman penned an article about the upcoming city tournaments. A regular feature, the “May Beverage Player of the Week”, debuted in this issue. Larry Keating garnered the honor, winning an Old Style cap and t-shirt along with a case of Old Style beer. Other regular features were the standings from The Bullpen and Finney’s West.

The second issue not only spotlighted the local softball scene, but also concentrated heavily on hardball. Tremper High School’s baseball team made the cover, celebrating their trip to the state tournament. Play Ball also featured two regular columnists, Dudley Blue and Xavier B. Harding. These pen names were used by a couple of softball “heavyweights” who liked to offer their spin on Kenosha’s favorite sport.

As could be expected, getting team and managers to contribute information and results was Marescalco and Ostrowski’s biggest obstacle. So much so, they put themselves on the cover of the June 26th cover pleading for contributions. Mayor Bosman added a second article, this one concerning the upcoming 14” tourney. Tournament results were peppered with the usual array of pictures featuring Kenosha’s men and women in action.

The July 12th issue of Play Ball ran a column by Xavier B. Harding that pondered the future of softball in Kenosha. It was interesting to go back and read the column and see how Harding’s opinions have played out, as softball progressed. Maybe, if there is enough interest, I can “reprint” that 1984 column in the Daily Kenoshan. I found it very interesting. That was the beauty of Play Ball. It was about people and things that you knew and cared about. Heck, it was about you!

The cover of the next issue of Play Ball had 1984 women Rotary champs Pasquali’s on it. A comprehensive article was featured along with an ad congratulating them on their back-to-back Rotary titles. Speaking of ads, they were another great part of the paper. Not only do they bring back wonderful memories, like The Ranch, Uncle Munchies and Hoff’s Players; but also the paper had coupons! The Times, Video Unlimited and The Fon Tan Blu were just a few that offered great deals when you patronized their establishments. Many a Thursday night, my team made the short trek across 22nd avenue from Hoff’s to The Times to use the free drink coupon we had tore out of the latest copy of Play Ball.

The final issue had the 14” City Tournament champions, The 5th Amendment, on the cover. The 5th’s pitcher, Rick “Cardo” Bloomquist, was honored as the last  “May Beverage Player of the Week”. The tabloid was fortunate enough to have Kenosha softball luminary Al Gajdos author an article about the legendary Strang Siding’s women’s team. Jon Naumann, Steve Spizziri, Tom Jaehne, Tammy Nelson and umpire George Becker had the privilege of having their pictures grace the back page of that last issue.

In that last issue of Play Ball, Jack Ostrowski and Glen Marescalco wrote, “We hope you enjoyed each and every issue of Play Ball. We’ll be back next year – bigger and better!” Unfortunately, they weren’t back the next year. But please rest assured that I, along with countless others, did indeed enjoy each and every issue of Play Ball. Until next time…from the booth.

Hey! It’s Brian Noble!

First things first - I have been a Green Bay Packers fan all of my life. I was blessed having parents that brought me up that way. My love affair with the historic team from northern Wisconsin began in 1962. My favorite player was running back Paul Hornung. The reason I was so fond of the future Hall of Famer was that we shared first names, he wore number five and I was five years old at the time. Therefore he was my favorite. Hey, it made perfect to sense to me.

You might have noticed that I said my “parents” brought me up to be a Packer fan, not just my father. That is because my Ma provided me with one of my most vivid memories of the 13-time World Champions. It was on December 31, 1967. Bart Starr had just scored the go-ahead touchdown against the Dallas Cowboys in the legendary “Ice Bowl” game and Ma was sitting on the floor hooting and hollering. She was on the floor because she had fell off the davenport with a loud cheer the moment the Packer quarterback scored.

Of course, it is a given that my Pa directed me down the straight and narrow when it came to which football team to support. His brothers, my uncles John and Joe were also there to lend a helping hand teaching me what was right and good when it came to football. It was always the Green and Gold for the Vagnoni family. But Pa was always the number one guiding force when it came to the Packers.

That is why Pa was the first one I took up with me to watch the Packers train in July prior to the season. That was in ’88 or ’89, I’m not quite sure, all those championships have somewhat blurred my powers of recall. The next year I went with my brother Mike. The following year, the Fishers joined us. After that, it was Reenie, the Szalapskis and various other friends adding to the group. It had become a tradition. And this was well before attending Packers training camp was the avant-garde thing to do. We were definitely trendsetters.

It was always a good time visiting Green Bay to watch our favorite team working out, preparing for the upcoming season. We had certain customs we observed every year, but like I said, my recollection isn’t what it used to be and the years have begun to run together. However, certain events will always stick in my mind.

It was the fourth or fifth year. The group was larger than usual. People came and left at different times. It was on a Sunday when the remaining women decided that they had had enough and they were heading back to Kenosha. Brother Mike, Vern and myself decided to stay one more day. The ladies said fine.

Except for Reenie. She wanted to stay.

The trio of us told her that we didn’t have a problem with that, but we planned on going to a “gentlemen’s club” after dining at Bart Starr’s restaurant. Her response was, “Ya, right! You guys ain’t going to a strip joint, I’m staying!” We said no problem.

After the Kenosha-bound friends had left, Reenie and the three of us went to have dinner at Bart Starr’s place. Afterward, we informed our female companion that we were now going to the Body Shop. The gentlemen’s club. The strip joint. When she realized that we weren’t joking around, she sheepishly asked us to drop her off at the motel. We obliged.

When Mike, Vern and I arrived at the Body Shop, we weren’t impressed. It wasn’t much more than a big neighborhood-type bar. The crowd was mixture of young and old “gentlemen”. There was even a table of older couples in attendance.

The dancers performed on top of the bar, stripping down to a G-string or a thong. Nothing too tawdry. Enjoyable, but not tawdry. While Mike and Vern were transfixed with the entertainment on the bar, I happened to notice three large men entering the bar. You see, I have very good peripheral vision for my size.

Upon further observation I noticed that one of the men was none other than Packer linebacker, Brian Noble. The other two I didn’t recognize. They must have been rookies that Noble was chaperoning because they were definitely players. They dwarfed Noble who stood 6’3” and weighed 250 lbs. His two companions were several inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier.

Anyway, after determining that it was indeed Brian Noble, I poked Mike and Vern and said in a semi-hushed voice, “Hey! It’s Brian Noble!” To which Vern said, “Ya, right.” My brother gave me the “don’t be yanking my chain look.” They went back to ogling the performer seductively making her way across the bar.

Again, I prodded my associates and told them, “Hey! It’s Brian Noble!” Mike didn’t even look at me this time, just telling me to shut up. When Vern turned to admonish me, he saw the three immense men taking a seat at the bar. After realizing who they were, he shouted out, “Hey! It’s Brian Noble!” Half the bar turned to look.

I was a bit embarrassed, but not my brother Mike. Although a bit star struck, he announced that he was going up to the bar to get us another beer. He then mustered up enough courage to belly up right alongside Noble and the two rookies to order our beers.

Mike returned smiling from ear to ear with three Pabst Blue Ribbons. Composing himself, he told us that he was listening to the Packers talking at that bar. I said that’s cool, what were they talking about? He said he wasn’t sure what the rookies were saying, but they were asking Noble something. When Vern asked what Noble said to them, Mike reported that the veteran told the rookies, “Shut up, I’m watching the girl.” It was so impressive the way Noble provided the two newcomers with that sage advice. Just one more reason that I’ll always be a Packer fan.

See what you missed, Reenie? Until next time…from the booth.

I Need A Real Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here!

After throwing away two hours last night and another sixty minutes tonight, I have decided to pull the plug on NBC’s “I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here!” Over the course of the next few weeks, I will undoubtedly tune in from time to time, but tonight is the last time I will waste any significant time writing about this horrible excuse for a reality show.

I am through having this show offend my senses. The only thing that made me even think about continuing to write about this ignominious failure was when Stephen Baldwin was “baptizing” the insipid Spencer Pratt in the river.

Unfortunately Baldwin didn’t do us all a favor and drown the slimy creep. Perhaps Baldwin can be granted a “mulligan” for “Slap Shot 2: Breaking The Ice”, but this cannot be forgiven.

You’re Not Celebrities…Get Out of Here!

Seriously, the Pratt Brats had to be kidding when they declared themselves “Super Celebrities”. In the “Celebrity Spectrum” they barely rank ahead of Frangela, who I had never heard of prior to this show and Sanjaya who I vaguely remember from American Idol.

The rest of the cast isn’t much better. Patti Blagojevich. Enough said. Sure Janice Dickinson was a super model - Forty years ago! Now she is more famous for appearing on shows like this.

Stephen Baldwin’s main claim to fame is being one of the acting Baldwin brothers and turning to God. After his performance on this show he had better ask for forgiveness.

John Salley, former NBA star, is still somewhat relevant in that he is currently one of the hosts of "The Best Damn Sports Show Period" on Fox Sports Network. Torrie Wilson’s “stardom” is a little dimmer since she no longer wrestles and hasn’t posed naked in quite a while.

For my money, the biggest celebrity on the show is Lou Diamond Phillips. Besides the considerable amount of films and TV shows that he has appeared in, he is also the subject of Punky Bruiser’s favorite joke.

Who is Punky Bruiser? 

She was my favorite performer on A&E’s Rollergirls. Rollergirls was a thirteen episode 2006 A&E Network reality show examining the personalities, antics and motivations of the women involved with the Austin, Texas Lonestar Rollergirls roller derby league. She skated (and still does) with The Holy Rollers.

Now that, my friend, was quality reality television. So much so, I even purchased the entire series on DVD and the complex Punky Bruiser was the best! A hardnosed competitor, she would have kicked Heidi and Spencer’s collective ass twenty minutes into the first program. She is one tough cookie.

Punky Bruiser

During Rollergirls we learned that outside of the rink, it was a different story for Punky. While roller derby had definitely boosted her confidence, she still felt a bit lost. She worked as waitress and had a part-time gig at a clothing store, but didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life.

One particular episode revealed that Punky had a secret desire to be a standup comic. That’s when I first heard her favorite joke. I chuckle just thinking about it. I would be remiss if I didn’t share it with you.  Here it is:

Q: What did one Lou Diamond say to the other Lou Diamond?
A: It’s Lou Diamond!!!

Punky Bruiser. There’s a real celebrity. Where’s that Rollergirls DVD? Until next time…from the booth.

What’ll You Have?

In 1975 it was legal to purchase and consume alcohol at the age of 18 in the state of Wisconsin. And that’s exactly what I did, usually in the form of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Lots and lots of Pabst Blue Ribbon. The truth be told, I was consuming alcoholic beverages before the legal age of 18. Today’s blog deals with the warm summer of 1975 and involves the infamous Arno Schubert. 

Arno first graced this blog in “My First Labor Day”. After that he also showed up in “Arno: A Koos Legend”, “A Koos Christmas Story”, “A Special Secret Weapon” and “Attack Of The Chainsaw”. If you haven’t read these entertaining blogs, I encourage you to take the time to do so. They will help you to appreciate the enigmatic man named Arno.

Let’s get back to the summer of 1975.

I had been working at Koos Inc. for a couple of months when I finally felt comfortable enough to tell my co-workers where I lived. Keep in mind, this was the first time I was exposed to wild characters like Virgil Tucker, Ziggy Gutowski and of course, Arno Schubert. So, you can understand my reluctance in revealing such personal information.

When I first mentioned that I lived off of Highway C in Pleasant Prairie, just down the road from the Nobby Lobby tavern, my worst fears were realized. The words had barely left my lips before Danny Fliess blurted out, “No shit Puddles. Arno lives right by you!”

Great, I thought to myself, that’s all I need. And I was right. As soon as that crusty old German discovered where I lived, he was hitting me up for a ride home. So, for the rest of that summer I gave that foul-mouthed curmudgeon a lift home. Each and every miserable night.

At first, the 15-minute trips were fairly uneventful. A typical drive home consisted of me continually turning the volume of the radio up in an attempt to drown out Arno’s incessant cursing. I’m not sure if he ever even noticed.

Then it happened. After a particularly hot day, Arno climbed into my car and announced that he was going to start compensating me for giving him a ride home. I am quite sure he didn’t use the word compensate, but you get the idea.

All right! I wondered just how much he was going to give me. Five bucks would be nice. Ten would be even better. Well, it wasn’t ten and it wasn’t even five. Nope.

The compensation came in the form of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

As soon as I had turned on to Washington Road, Arno instructed me to turn into Andy’s parking lot. Andy’s was a small neighborhood bar located right behind Big Star’s parking lot.

As I pulled in, I quickly informed him that I had no intention of sitting in a bar stinking of fertilizer. He promptly told me to shut the “f#ck up” and jumped out and ran inside. Moments later he appeared with a brown paper bag and a toothless grin going from ear to ear.

While I pulled back onto Washington Road, Arno reached into the bag and produced an ice-cold bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. I shrugged my shoulders and accepted the payment for my transportation services. Arno, still grinning, removed a bottle for himself, cracked it open and started gulping it down.

Well, at least he wasn’t swearing. If there was one thing that Arno enjoyed more than swearing, it was drinking beer. And I enjoyed the quiet. The beer wasn’t bad either.

By the time we turned onto Highway HH we had finished the six-pack. It was at this point that Arno gathered up the empty beer bottles and began to hurl them out the window into the ditch by the cornfield.

This didn’t last forever, a couple of months I think. But every night for those two or three months we stopped at Staral’s so Arno could buy that six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon for the ride home. And every night he tossed the empties out the window into that ditch by the cornfield.

There must have been over 400 bottles in that ditch before I finally stopped giving Arno a ride home.

I know, I know. Not only was I drinking while driving, Arno was littering as well. What can I say, I was young and dumb and Arno was… Well, Arno was Arno.

That was 39 years ago. For the next ten years I continued to consume Pabst Blue Ribbon on a regular basis. Sometimes on a “more than” regular basis.

However, on August 4, 1985 that all came to an end. I was in the booth announcing a morning league game at historic Finney’s West when I decided that I had had enough. And I haven’t touched a drop since then.

Happy 39th anniversary to you Arno Schubert, wherever you might be. More importantly, happy 29th anniversary to me. Until next time…from the booth.