Remembering Major League Broball
How a group of people honored a lost friend
By David Kiarsis
Posted March 15, 2016
Anybody who has lost someone close to them knows how we felt. They know that our biggest question was, simply put, ‘Why?’ And they know it’s an answer we’ll never get. They know the finality of death, that once someone is gone they’re never coming back. They know the memories; that they flood your mind at the most random times years after that person is gone. Most of all, they know that person will never be forgotten.
But how someone should be remembered is the one thing others don’t know because it’s different for everyone. Remembering someone is unique to that person. Who they were shapes how they’re remembered. Now I don’t have much experience in this area, nor do I know every story out there, but I have to imagine how those closest to Colin Marren chose to remember him is pretty unique.
Colin was the type of person that brought others together. His list of friends was a lengthy one, and his experiences afforded him the opportunity to meet a lot of different people. There are people I’m still friends with today because Colin introduced us. He was smart, funny, positive, a good friend, and like most boys our age he was an athlete and loved sports. He spent a little too much time complaining to the refs on the basketball court if you ask me, and the baseball diamond was where he found his peace.
Those who remember Colin the athlete likely think of the pitcher or shortstop before anything else. Now I was never the best baseball player growing up, nor was it a sport I put a lot of time into, but my experiences playing with Colin — with his father Bernie as the coach — are some of my fondest memories. He made the sport fun when it wasn’t exactly my favorite. His personality permeated our dugout during games, even when he wasn’t playing well. His determination and commitment to winning made you want to play better. He played with fire and passion, and that’s how he lived his life.
*****
It’s fitting that it all started Memorial Day Weekend in 2010. That holiday has always been a special
weekend for our group, even if it just gave us an excuse to get drunk at the beach. I’m not sure how long we had done it on that particular weekend, but Jones Beach in Long Island, N.Y. became a traditional summer event if you will for many of us. I still remember the first time we packed a cooler full of beer, packed into Colin’s tan Explorer, and made a day of it at Jones. And we were hooked. Despite the lengthy ride out, the inevitable terrible traffic on the way home, and the occasional shaky weather report, it was always a can’t-miss trip. Add in the Jones Beach Air Show on Memorial Day Weekend and it was a no-brainer.
The fact that Colin died that holiday weekend in 2007 changed the meaning of it entirely. Sure, the specifics of the day-trip to the beach remained the same, but it just felt different. He missed the trip to the beach that tragic day almost nine years ago, and I have to imagine it was the only time he did. So I never do. It became Colin’s weekend for me not just because of the things that followed in the years after his death, but because his name became synonymous with the holiday for those who knew him best.
*****
Some people put decals on the back window of their car. Some people name a building, or field after a person. Some people get tattoos (at least three of us that I can remember did so, including myself). Some families create scholarship funds (the Marrens did just that).
We created a softball league.
Major League
Broball
By The Numbers
4 - Seasons played
5 - Fields played on
8 - Players to hit for the cycle
25 - Girls to play at least one game
35 - Number of home runs hit by Luke Gorz, the all-time leader (next closest was 21)
87 - Number of games played by Alex Mason, the all-time leader
94 - Games played
116 - People to play at least one game
150 - Number of RBI by Luke Gorz, the all-time leader (next closest was 118)
Most Valuable BROs: David Kiarsis (2010), Kevin Kiarsis (2011), Rocco Angilletta (2012), Luke Gorz (2013)
The following summer after Colin’s death, his family had a barbeque for his closest family and friends. That same barbeque was held at a different person’s house the next summer, leading to the idea that this should be an annual event. Quickly becoming a part of that event was a fairly relaxed game of Wiffle ball. I say fairly with a hint of sarcasm because we all know how competitive any game gets with a bunch of guys in their early 20’s and a bunch of girls who don’t know what they’re doing. It’s because of that Wiffle ball game that Major League Broball was born.
Wiffle ball bats are slippery. Think about it: You’re holding a skinny piece of plastic — much skinnier than the handle of a real baseball bat — and you’re trying to hit a small, quickly moving white ball. You’re gripping the bat extra tight because you’re trying to crush it, and everybody is watching you at the plate. Adam Vitabile knows this all too well (don’t worry buddy, I got your defense ready).
It was the bat that slipped out of Adam’s hand that broke a window on my house that prompted the suggestion that we go play softball, you know, now that no one wanted to play Wiffle ball anymore because Adam had just broke a window on my house. So everyone ran home to get their gloves, and we met at Rye Neck High School across the street from my house. Little did we know that what we thought would be a single fun game of softball would turn into a weekly game every summer for the next four years.
*****
The second game was the next day, the first time I decided to keep statistics. Stats make everything more fun, which based on this website is probably something you’re not surprised to hear me say. It’s why fantasy sports are so great. But it’s true: Numbers put a value on a performance, and everybody has to know how they’re doing. Stats led to a league, which led to a league name, which led to a website. Major League Broball was bound to happen when you had me (a stats nerd) and Luke Gorz (obsessed with creating
websites at the time) running the show. And everyone — and I mean everyone — wanted to play.
There was never a question that we were playing every Sunday that first summer, with the additional Saturday doubleheader on occasion as well. People still talk about my “You in?” weekly text messages as either the greatest or worst thing ever, depending on who you ask. But they got people to the field in droves, teams often totaling more than 10 players apiece. Even the weekends when we didn’t have enough for your traditional 9-on-9 game, we played with 14 or 16. Somehow, we always figured it out.
We played in the pouring rain. We played drunk. We made two videos, the first a league hype video and the second a commercial. We held Fourth of July ceremonies. We had a record book. We had t-shirt jerseys made. We had playing cards with complete career statistics made. We held end-of-the-season voting for awards, which featured a Most Valuable Bro, Defensive Bro of the Year, Bro Gloves, and an All-Bro Team. We had it all. People normally can’t wait for the summer, but that feeling was magnified for the members of Major League Broball during that four-year stretch.
An aspect of the league that added to its unique quality was people played for different reasons on a weekly basis. We were all there for Colin of course, but people found their motivation for their weekend performances in different places.
Broball featured its fair share of great athletes, but not everyone who put on a jersey was as athletically inclined. While everyone gave max effort when they played, for some Broball quickly became about the party on the sidelines. I was always impressed by the few who could do both, drinking and playing with only a small drop in their performance if any drop at all. The few times I tried to do the same, it didn’t go well (this unfortunately led to my one Non-Bro of the Week award). Those who knew this might happen to them stuck to the drinking games and cheering on their fellow Broballers. For some it was all about the stats. Stats led to a possible Bro of the Week award, and maybe some end-of-season honors as well. For others, like me, it was about winning as many games as possible. It’s hard for me to do something competitive and not care about winning above all else. And I’m sure for some, it was about being outside in the sun on Sundays in the summer.
But one thing we all had in common, whether we actively thought about it or not, was we were there and playing for Colin. If you wore that jersey with his initials on your arm, it meant something to you to be on that field every weekend. It meant something to you to be a part of Major League Broball.
Looking back on those four summers, there are too many moments and memories to list. Some of the best that show just how much we loved this league are listed throughout this story, but my overarching memory can be summed up in that one word: love. We created Major League Broball because we loved Colin. We kept showing up because we love each other. Colin brought people together in life and — through Broball — did the same in death.
Inside The Fantasy Hut
