No Pressure, No Diamonds

On June 8, 1975, our family drove over to Pittsburgh to attend a doubleheader between the Bucs and the San Francisco Giants. I recall it being abnormally cold and windy that day at Three Rivers (confirmed with a quick check of Weather Underground) and it was a pretty long afternoon sitting through a double-header that day under those conditions. Dad had to work outside in crappy weather – he was none too excited that day about the chill – and I even recall shivering myself (in shorts) a bit during the second half of the second game.

We were sitting in our normal location in the red 200-level General Admission seats in right field. In those days, GA seats were $2.00 a piece (65 cents for children or seniors). For two games. Amazing.

The Pirate bats were also frozen that afternoon and the Bucs could only muster 11 hits over 18 innings (9 of those were singles). That 1975 team would lead the league in homeruns and was, as usual for the Pirates, among the top 2 or 3 best offenses in the National League – but not that day. Here are the box-scores courtesy of Retrosheet for Games 1 and 2 from that doubleheader.

Game 1 that day was notable as it was the major league debut of John Candelaria, who was brought up from the minors that weekend. A healthy Candelaria was Randy Johnson before Randy Johnson. A high-school basketball player from Brooklyn. he was 6’7”, all legs and arms with a side-arm delivery that devastated left-handed hitters. Before his back started flaring up a couple of years later, Candy was straight nasty.

A couple of months later, still as a 21 year old, Candelaria would set a (then) NLCS record by striking out 14 Reds. That Red’s lineup was one for the ages. Considering Candelaria’s youth, the circumstances surrounding the game, and the quality of the opposition (including several Hall-of-Famers all at the peaks of their games), I would argue that Candelaria’s effort that game was in the top ten of all-time NLCS pitching performances. It was certainly as sterling a post-season debut as one could have.

That June afternoon in 1975, Candelaria was certainly serviceable and pitched well after shaking off some early wildness. I am sure that the Candy Man was nervous that day, but it was just game 48 of what would be 161 regular season games that year for the Bucs. An early season game in front of a friendly home crowd with not a whole lot riding on the line. Candelaria’s coming out was not at all like the high pressure debut that I had made about 3 years earlier as an Altar Server at the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament.

When plans for my oldest brother Steve’s wedding were being drawn up, apparently it was decided that it would be a nice thing for me to serve at the Wedding Mass with my soon-to-be sister-in-law Kathy’s brother Jim (who was already an established Altar Server at St. Mary’s).  At this point in time (spring of 1972), I wasn’t an Altar Server (even though many of my peeps at McNelis Catholic already were) and, truth be told, I really didn’t have a burning desire to be one.

But before you know it, a commitment was made before I even had a chance to get a timeout. In retrospect,  the whole planning aspect of this left a lot of room for improvement on so many dimensions. There were three fundamental issues that I was dealing with here.

Lack of Experience.  The trouble was that I was not going through the normal Altar Server training. In fact, I can’t actually recall any training (but that doesn’t sound right). Maybe there was some fast-path “Become An Altar Server In 2 Days” course from the University of Phoenix that I took. I honestly don’t remember. I just know that I planned to lean heavily on Kathy’s brother Jim. He was a veteran of these Altar Server wars and I would follow his lead where possible and wing it the rest of the time. Not an ideal situation.

Pressure.  I remember Mom pulling me aside the week before the wedding and seriously stressing to me what an important day this was for Favorite Son Steve™ and that I needed to really concentrate and do a good job. In so many words, she was telling me to not screw up and embarrass Steve or the family. Ok – got it Mom – it is not like I wasn’t already nervous enough about looking like a jackass in front of all the Nedimyer and Durbin relatives.

Did any of the adults involved stop and think that maybe it would be a good idea for me to make my Altar Server debut under less stressful and visible circumstances? Like, oh I don’t know, maybe a weekday 6:45 AM Mass where (the same) seven people showed up everyday?

Legacy.  Further complicating my debut was the rather unfortunate tenure of my brother Rich as an Altar Server. My brother had been relieved of his duties as an Altar Server years earlier – the details aren’t really important here as this post is about me (isn’t everything?)  Well, you just know that those priests had a book they maintained on the different Altar Servers and their performance. Wait a minute, that didn’t come out right - readers, please get your mind out of the gutter – this is a family blog.

“Hey you better keep an eye on that new kid Joe Nedimyer. He is Rich Nedimyer’s brother. You don’t remember Rich? Monsignor Denny shit-canned him back in the mid 1960s for sloppy work. So just keep an eye on that new kid.”

So lets pause for a moment and summarize the environment surrounding my Altar Server debut – a proverbial perfect storm of:

1. Little to no formal training – just wing it and OTJ training and hope Jim takes care of the rest.
2. A big event with pressure from Mom not to screw up (with this being the big day and all of Favorite Son Steve™).
3. A failed Altar Server legacy in the family that I was trying to overcome.

I think that about covers it.

At this point, it is not a stretch to assert that my situation was analogous to that of the Boston Red Sox calling up the son of Bill Buckner from the minor leagues (Low A ball) and having him make his major league debut as a defensive replacement at first base in the last inning of a tied Game Seven of the World Series. Nope, no extra pressure involved there at all.

I don’t remember much about the actual ceremony. I don’t think I screwed up – certainly nothing obvious. I recall seeing a photograph of me and Jim that day (in our full garb) walking down the Cathedral steps that head toward the cafeteria. I can’t recall my expression in that picture though I wouldn’t be surprised if it revealed equal parts confusion and anxiety. Afterwards, my overriding feelings were of relief and of eternal gratefulness that it was over.

After that day, I would go on to a rather mundane and unmemorable Altar Server career. No outrageous moments or screw-ups. Trust me, with the other stuff that apparently was happening those days in that diocese, one could do a hell of a lot worse than boring.

I did have a faux-pas the first time I served by myself in a Mass with Monsignor Madden. When you served alone you had to juggle a lot of shit when you presented the gifts to the priest after the homily: the water and the wine cruets of course, the container for the cruets, the finger towel to dry the hands, etc.

I think I failed to precisely position the finger towel at the appropriate spot on my left arm that first time and Madden chewed my ass out on it after the Mass was over – he must have had to move an extra six inches to reach the towel or something really vital like that. But this hiccup wasn’t obvious to anyone else attending and was real inside baseball stuff. Besides, Madden was one surly and mean cat – he chewed out everybody in those days. I can’t recall that dude smiling once over the last eight years of the 70s.