As they mourn last month’s death of their friend Andy Crandall, Ed Katz writes:
“It was just a Sunday softball game — one of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands conducted in the US every weekend.
“But for this group of aging athletes, Boys of Summer Softball (BOSS) was a ritual — something to look forward to every Sunday for 6 months every year — and something to reflect upon every week and throughout the winter. It was a gift, one that will always be remembered, and will always be appreciated by all who were lucky enough to be part of it.” — Eric Baron
BOSS was never just about the game. It was a cherished tradition that for nearly 4 decades united a diverse group of middle-aged men who found joy in the camaraderie as much as in the competition.
Every Sunday, from April to October, these men gathered in Westport — not just to play softball but to relive a piece of their youth, to reconnect with the simple pleasure of a well-played game.
The Boys of Summer: Fall, 2014
BOSS began in 1983, born from a casual suggestion among dads coaching their kids in recreational baseball. Twenty men showed up for the first game, marking the start of a 40-year journey. The games eventually found their home on the softball field behind Town Hall, thriving until COVID brought the tradition to an untimely end.
BOSS was more than a game. It was about lifelong friendships, annual trips, and a yearly banquet celebrating the season with awards, trivia contests, and the presentation of the “Player of the Year.”
Alan Neigher fondly recalls the mix of players who, despite their years, played with the enthusiasm of boys. The banter, the occasional “atta boy” after a solid hit or a clean fielding play — it all created a lively, unforgettable atmosphere.
BOSS was rich with personalities and stories, like radio executive Dick Kalt, Emmy Award-winning TV host Richard Wiese, and lawyer Josh Koskoff (famous for his running — and often falling — catches).
Former judge and state representative Doug Mintz was a BOSS original.
Ed Katz was the winningest pitcher in BOSS history, with approximately 240 wins and 114 losses. He recalls his teammates carrying him off the field after pitching a shutout. His final at-bat in 2018, before moving to Florida, ended with an RBI single to tie the game. He then scored the winning run — a perfect way to end his BOSS career.
Boys of summer, at their annual team dinner. From left: Andy Crandall, Dr. Bob Selverstone, Ed Katz.
The roster of BOSS players reads like a who’s who of local characters. Courtney Wilson, Andy Moss (who called our games “a 2-hour vacation every Sunday”), Mike Berkin, Steve Yudelson, Mike Stiskal, Reynaldo Santana, David Halper, Bob Hertzel, Andy Davidson, Dave Quigley, Bryan Alix, Justin Tishman, Adam Chusid, Mike Walmark, John Brace, Jason Li and Jonas Katz all deserve mention.
One cherished tradition was the end-of-season videotape, edited by Eric Baron (with help from Josh Greenberger), provided much laughter.
Another was the weekly newsletter, first by Eric Baron and later Greg Pinyan, which humorously recapped the games and wove together our BOSS community.
Boys of Summer book.
Games were filled with moments that became legendary in BOSS lore, like Craig Bruce’s towering home runs and an infamous outfield error.
The love and respect among the players were extraordinary. Dr. Bob Selverstone — known for his speed even in his 60s — was the heart and soul of BOSS. He always arranged for the field and shared poems at the banquets — a testament to the dedication and passion that fueled BOSS.
Over the years BOSS lost 11 beloved players, with Andy Crandall the most recent.
Greg Pinyan sums up Andy well: “He could be a real pain in the ass at times.” That’s because he took the game seriously, and spoke harshly to players who made mental mistakes or didn’t hustle. “But he was a good guy and a solid player.”
To honor those who passed, plaques were placed in the dugout. The field was named after Harvey Harris, a fallen teammate. Steve Lindemann and David Vroman were also memorialized.
As we reflect on the passing of Andy, and the end of BOSS, we celebrate not just the game, but the spirit of camaraderie, the unforgettable moments, and the lifelong friendships forged on that dusty field.
BOSS was a tradition, a piece of our lives that will forever hold a special place in our hearts.
