Living in Italy is Magical! Living in Italy and playing baseball is even better...
Italy is full of all the usual things you have heard/read so much about - cobblestone streets, architecture, food, wine, art, history, beautiful people, gorgeous English teachers at German Schools, hand made masterpieces, gorgeous cars, siestas, loving families and talking with ones hands. What you almost never hear about in Italy is the wonderful sport of baseball. Yes...baseball...
I have had the privilege of living in Italy three times in my life...for three baseball seasons.
An American finding himself going to Italy to play baseball isn't easy. While there are many roads to Rome, there are shockingly few roads to Italian baseball. This is where my adventure began...
I had decided that I wanted to play baseball in Italy and had no idea how to go about it. I had heard of Coach John Noce (pronounced NO-CHEE) of San Mateo Junior College (San Mateo, CA). Coach Noce had sons who had played in Italy and had coached the Italian National Team. Coach Nocci is a legend! So, not knowing any other way to go about playing baseball in Italy...I called Coach Noce on a Thursday or Friday...and the conversation went like this;
Me - Coach Noce, I'd like to play baseball in Italy and was told that you would know how one could go about doing so.
Coach - Well, that depends.
Me - On what Sir?
Coach - How good you are. Have you played double AA baseball here in the states?
Me - No Sir.
Coach - Well then, I can't recommend you.
Me - How come Sir?
Coach - I only recommend players who have played at least double AA baseball professionally in the states.
Me - OK. So then how else could I go about playing ball in Italy?
Coach - Well son, let me tell you. If you have balls...and I mean industrial sized cojones...you'd get on a plane to Rome...make your way to the Office of the President of Italian Baseball...get yourself a list of towns with baseball teams...and go find yourself a job.
Me - Is there any other way you can think of...that might be a bit...oh...easier than that?
Coach - Nope.
Me - Thank you Coach for your time!
Coach - No problem. Let me know how you make out.
The conversation didn't last more than a few minutes. Anyone knowing Coach Noce knows you don't waste his time! And in hindsight...Coach Noce knew what he was talking about because while Italian Baseball isn't the same as US baseball, there are still very talented athletes who are dedicated and have a passion for the game!
At this point, I had a dilemma. I hadn't made it far enough in America to warrant an endorsement...and I was stubborn. Well, stubborn seemed to be taking hold over lack of talent...so two days later on a Sunday, I found myself with the travel section of the Los Angeles Times in my hand. Way in the back...I found one of those tiny boxes that said, "Cheap Flights - Europe." I called the number and found one-way airfare to Milano for less than $400.
I couldn't afford a round trip ticket, so I thought I'd start off the simple way and just get there first. Before I actually paid for the ticket, I did some quick math re my finances. I figured I had about enough money to eat for about 3 weeks or so before I'd have to get to an English-speaking country and get a job at a bar or restaurant to earn enough money to eat and have a place to sleep...and ultimately make my way home. Three weeks isn't a long time, however stubborn was a place I was used to...and I bought the ticket.
Althought I didn't personally know Coach Noce, his reputation is impressive...and I thought I'd let him know 'how I made out.' I called his office and got his answering machine...
Me - "Hi Coach Noce. This is Jamy and I am taking your advice. I bought a one way ticket and am leaving for Italy in a few days...thanks for the advice! Take care Sir!"
I never called him back, and I am sure he is completely unaware of the profound impact he had on my life. Coach Noce has had a profound impact on the lives of many young men, and their approach to their responsibilities...so I am sure he wouldn't be surprised should he ever find out.
Now I had to tell my family...which wasn't as smooth as buying the ticket and took a little longer than talking to Coach Noce.
My mom was first. I had to explain that I was giving up life in the US for awhile and going to Italy to look for a job playing baseball...and would be leaving in a couple of days. I never told her I only bought a one-way ticket till years later...which caused a 'clutching-hand-over-heart-maneuver' and a "THANK GOD' I didn't know that" from her. I then received in rapid-order phone calls from all my brothers. The questions ranged from, "are you crazy," to "what are you thinking" and some variants in between. All of them thought I was crazy...but they supported my decision nonetheless. While they tried to discourage me from going...their opinions and stubborn bumped into each other yet again...and predictably...stubborn won A-gain.
So, I bade farewell to life in America and my college girlfriend and got on a flight for Italy...with a HUGE duffel bag full of as much stuff as I could pack...lots of books in English and my baseball gear. In hindsight...the bag was wayyyy tooooo big to haul around...but I had never done this before so didn't know any better.
Arriving In Italy
I flew from Los Angeles to New York (enjoyed a 'self toast' during the layover) and then on to Milano. It was an overnight flight so I arrived in Milano at 0620. I didn't sleep at all on the plane and met some fellow passengers in the back galley. The usual assortment of travelers and a few models who routinely flew to Italy for work. Standing in line at Customs I was struck by how different life suddenly seemed as I walked past a line of Uzi-toting-policemen (Polizotto)...and a rather friendly looking German Shepherd. I suddenly found myself wondering what the heck I was doing, and turned to one of my new found friends and began asking a zillion questions. Laura (enflight-new-found-friend) cleared Customs first and then it was my turn. She kindly hung around as I believe she sensed that my chattiness and an Uzi-brandishing-Polizotto weren't likely to be a match made in Customs-Heaven...
Customs Agent - Avete qualche cosa dichiarare? (do you have anything to declare?)
Me - Huh? (I often have clever responses like this one in moments of stress)
Customs Agent (not looking too thrilled) - repeats himself
Me - Uhhh, I don't understand. (honest...yet not really what he hoped to hear)
Laura (to me) - He wants to know if you have anything to declare.
Me (to Laura) - Like what?
PREGNANT PAUSE - Uzi-toting-Customs-agent unzips by 'body-bag-sized-duffel-bag.'
Customs Agent (pulling out one of my wooden baseball bats) - Ciò assomiglia ad un'arma! (This looks like a weapon!)
Laura (to me) - He says that the bat looks like a weapon!
Me (to Laura) - Tell him, "not the way I swing it"...with a bit of a nervous chuckle and a smile to hopefully win him over. (NOT!)
Customs Agent - Che cosa farete con questo? (What will you do with this?)
Laura (to me) - translates his statement for me
Me - Well, I hope to play baseball with it...but that's not too certain right now.
Customs Agent - disgusted and obviously irritated puts the bat back in the bag and waves me away.
Laura (to me) - Do you need help?
Me (to Laura) - Yeah, I am starting to think so!
After clearing customs so gracefully, Laura gave me directions to the train for Verona. Why Verona you ask? Verona is the home of Romeo and Giulietta...and the city is renowned for its beauty...plus if I was going to fly halfway around the world to potentially starve...I might as well do it somewhere beautiful!
Italy is full of all the usual things you have heard/read so much about - cobblestone streets, architecture, food, wine, art, history, beautiful people, gorgeous English teachers at German Schools, hand made masterpieces, gorgeous cars, siestas, loving families and talking with ones hands. What you almost never hear about in Italy is the wonderful sport of baseball. Yes...baseball...
I have had the privilege of living in Italy three times in my life...for three baseball seasons.
An American finding himself going to Italy to play baseball isn't easy. While there are many roads to Rome, there are shockingly few roads to Italian baseball. This is where my adventure began...
I had decided that I wanted to play baseball in Italy and had no idea how to go about it. I had heard of Coach John Noce (pronounced NO-CHEE) of San Mateo Junior College (San Mateo, CA). Coach Noce had sons who had played in Italy and had coached the Italian National Team. Coach Nocci is a legend! So, not knowing any other way to go about playing baseball in Italy...I called Coach Noce on a Thursday or Friday...and the conversation went like this;
Me - Coach Noce, I'd like to play baseball in Italy and was told that you would know how one could go about doing so.
Coach - Well, that depends.
Me - On what Sir?
Coach - How good you are. Have you played double AA baseball here in the states?
Me - No Sir.
Coach - Well then, I can't recommend you.
Me - How come Sir?
Coach - I only recommend players who have played at least double AA baseball professionally in the states.
Me - OK. So then how else could I go about playing ball in Italy?
Coach - Well son, let me tell you. If you have balls...and I mean industrial sized cojones...you'd get on a plane to Rome...make your way to the Office of the President of Italian Baseball...get yourself a list of towns with baseball teams...and go find yourself a job.
Me - Is there any other way you can think of...that might be a bit...oh...easier than that?
Coach - Nope.
Me - Thank you Coach for your time!
Coach - No problem. Let me know how you make out.
The conversation didn't last more than a few minutes. Anyone knowing Coach Noce knows you don't waste his time! And in hindsight...Coach Noce knew what he was talking about because while Italian Baseball isn't the same as US baseball, there are still very talented athletes who are dedicated and have a passion for the game!
At this point, I had a dilemma. I hadn't made it far enough in America to warrant an endorsement...and I was stubborn. Well, stubborn seemed to be taking hold over lack of talent...so two days later on a Sunday, I found myself with the travel section of the Los Angeles Times in my hand. Way in the back...I found one of those tiny boxes that said, "Cheap Flights - Europe." I called the number and found one-way airfare to Milano for less than $400.
I couldn't afford a round trip ticket, so I thought I'd start off the simple way and just get there first. Before I actually paid for the ticket, I did some quick math re my finances. I figured I had about enough money to eat for about 3 weeks or so before I'd have to get to an English-speaking country and get a job at a bar or restaurant to earn enough money to eat and have a place to sleep...and ultimately make my way home. Three weeks isn't a long time, however stubborn was a place I was used to...and I bought the ticket.
Althought I didn't personally know Coach Noce, his reputation is impressive...and I thought I'd let him know 'how I made out.' I called his office and got his answering machine...
Me - "Hi Coach Noce. This is Jamy and I am taking your advice. I bought a one way ticket and am leaving for Italy in a few days...thanks for the advice! Take care Sir!"
I never called him back, and I am sure he is completely unaware of the profound impact he had on my life. Coach Noce has had a profound impact on the lives of many young men, and their approach to their responsibilities...so I am sure he wouldn't be surprised should he ever find out.
Now I had to tell my family...which wasn't as smooth as buying the ticket and took a little longer than talking to Coach Noce.
My mom was first. I had to explain that I was giving up life in the US for awhile and going to Italy to look for a job playing baseball...and would be leaving in a couple of days. I never told her I only bought a one-way ticket till years later...which caused a 'clutching-hand-over-heart-maneuver' and a "THANK GOD' I didn't know that" from her. I then received in rapid-order phone calls from all my brothers. The questions ranged from, "are you crazy," to "what are you thinking" and some variants in between. All of them thought I was crazy...but they supported my decision nonetheless. While they tried to discourage me from going...their opinions and stubborn bumped into each other yet again...and predictably...stubborn won A-gain.
So, I bade farewell to life in America and my college girlfriend and got on a flight for Italy...with a HUGE duffel bag full of as much stuff as I could pack...lots of books in English and my baseball gear. In hindsight...the bag was wayyyy tooooo big to haul around...but I had never done this before so didn't know any better.
Arriving In Italy
I flew from Los Angeles to New York (enjoyed a 'self toast' during the layover) and then on to Milano. It was an overnight flight so I arrived in Milano at 0620. I didn't sleep at all on the plane and met some fellow passengers in the back galley. The usual assortment of travelers and a few models who routinely flew to Italy for work. Standing in line at Customs I was struck by how different life suddenly seemed as I walked past a line of Uzi-toting-policemen (Polizotto)...and a rather friendly looking German Shepherd. I suddenly found myself wondering what the heck I was doing, and turned to one of my new found friends and began asking a zillion questions. Laura (enflight-new-found-friend) cleared Customs first and then it was my turn. She kindly hung around as I believe she sensed that my chattiness and an Uzi-brandishing-Polizotto weren't likely to be a match made in Customs-Heaven...
Customs Agent - Avete qualche cosa dichiarare? (do you have anything to declare?)
Me - Huh? (I often have clever responses like this one in moments of stress)
Customs Agent (not looking too thrilled) - repeats himself
Me - Uhhh, I don't understand. (honest...yet not really what he hoped to hear)
Laura (to me) - He wants to know if you have anything to declare.
Me (to Laura) - Like what?
PREGNANT PAUSE - Uzi-toting-Customs-agent unzips by 'body-bag-sized-duffel-bag.'
Customs Agent (pulling out one of my wooden baseball bats) - Ciò assomiglia ad un'arma! (This looks like a weapon!)
Laura (to me) - He says that the bat looks like a weapon!
Me (to Laura) - Tell him, "not the way I swing it"...with a bit of a nervous chuckle and a smile to hopefully win him over. (NOT!)
Customs Agent - Che cosa farete con questo? (What will you do with this?)
Laura (to me) - translates his statement for me
Me - Well, I hope to play baseball with it...but that's not too certain right now.
Customs Agent - disgusted and obviously irritated puts the bat back in the bag and waves me away.
Laura (to me) - Do you need help?
Me (to Laura) - Yeah, I am starting to think so!
After clearing customs so gracefully, Laura gave me directions to the train for Verona. Why Verona you ask? Verona is the home of Romeo and Giulietta...and the city is renowned for its beauty...plus if I was going to fly halfway around the world to potentially starve...I might as well do it somewhere beautiful!
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