Camp Frank A. Day was a our competition and Mr. Leach's tug of his left ear lobe meant steal! Mr. Leach's avuncular ways melded with my growing up at the Convent. Then his invitation to N>B>H>S>..
But I'm going to go fast forward...last when I rung the Town Hall bell at his funeral! Uncle Luke Grondin, bell-ringer,was sidelined and I volunteered to help. There was deep meaning and purpose to the finality of Mr. Leach. The Leach Legacy was in tact with Billy, Marty, Andy and grandkids and I got to know a Mr. Leach in a very special way.
My Uncle's store was across the street on North Common. 'I would hear Spippy's keys gingle every Sunday morning. after Mass' Leach confided. Mrs.Leach further told of father and sons "playing baseball on the Town Common "for three hours at a time."
Sports was imbued in the Leach spirit.
Hundreds and maybe thousands of boys benefitted by Mr. Leach's genuine caring. Coupled with Leo L. "Shammy DeLude" North Brookfield youth were heirs to more than an education... all except for Richard. B. Johnson! Johnson was the recipient of many a noogy ( a Leach knuckle in Johnson's Scalp! So much for "Johnson" who is now 73! LOL.
The saddest part of my decades of admiration and appreciation came in my final interview. Leach confided "You've gotta die around here to get some recognition, Bobby!" Wow.
Mr. Leach had bore his Brookfield/Holy Cross Soul to me. "I would have never seen the likes of the Ivy League if I wasn't a CRUSADER as a relief pitcher.Mr. Leach further said of a Roger Clemen's fastball..."it was like a little white pill coming towards you!"
Mr. Leach was my kind of guy...with his snapping fingers and slow to anger ways!
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