Boyhood pg 9 11-24-11
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- Category: Past Issues
By Ronald P. Coderre
“Do you remember Bill Gray?”
That was the question posed to me by Roger Franklin a couple weeks ago. He then proceeded to relate that Bill had died on Nov. 1 a few weeks shy of his 71st birthday.
“Do I remember Bill Gray?” I most certainly do. After digesting the shocking and sorrowful news my thoughts lapsed back to 1951 a time when both Bill and I were 10 years old. We met on the baseball diamond, which wasn’t unusual in those days, when kids spent their free time outdoors participating in the sport on the season.
Bill Gray and I were selected in the very first year of existence of the Putnam Little League by a gentleman named Leger Lamoureux, who would be our manager for the next three years as we played for the Yankees. Bill Gray was a catcher and I was one of the lucky guys who were pitchers on the team.
As a catcher, even at the young age of 10, Bill Gray was a take charge guy on our team. I don’t recall his statistics but behind the mask and pads he was tenacious, gritty, positive and fiery, the qualities looked for in a baseball catcher. At the bat I’d describe him as a “Punch and Judy” hitter, choking up on the bat and making contact. He could always be counted on to come through in the clutch.
After our Little League days we lost contact as we went separate ways in life. However, about 10 years ago my phone rang and it was Bill Gray. He was in Putnam visiting his mother and wanted to say hello to “leftie” his former battery mate. As we spoke it seemed as though we were 10 years old once again. We remained in contact via telephone and e-mail over the years but unfortunately were never able to sit down together and catch-up on the years between the end of our Little League days and our present day lives.
I guess that’s why the news of his death took me so much by surprise. In reading his brief obituary I was able to put a picture of his life together. The son of Dr. William and Elizabeth Gray had graduated with a degree in economics from Northeastern University. I wasn’t surprised to read that he was a veteran of the U.S. Marine Corps, where I can envision him “all spit polish and fire.”
Bill married Lynn (Daub) Gray and together they had three sons, Todd, Scott and Zachary. At the time of his death he lived in Andover, Mass., and had retired from John Hancock as a computer software manager. Also surviving him were his sisters, Lydia, Judy and Sward and a brother, Jack.
As I look at team photographs of the 1951 and 1952 Putnam Little League Yankees, I see a young Bill Gray with an eager look on his face. A look that says let’s “play ball.” But in reflecting, the thing that strikes me most is the fact that through baseball a lifelong friendship was nurtured. A friendship that was strong because it was meaningful despite not being able to see each other face-to-face since we were 12 years old.
To use a baseball cliché, “Life sometimes throws us curve balls,” but it’s how we handle them that count. Bill Gray was taken from life much too soon but despite our loss, his friendship makes handling the curve ball a little easier.
God bless, good friend Bill Gray.