Baseball Magic: Dining at Pino’s with Jerry Casale
Years ago there was a southern Italian trattoria on East 34th Street in Manhattan, called Pino’s. It was owned by an ex-major league pitcher from Brooklyn named Gennaro Joseph ‘Jerry’ Casale.
No doubt about it, walking into Pino’s was like stepping into a fine restaurant fitted inside a baseball park. Pino’s was great red sauce, solid pitching and one legendary home run. It was baseball magic.
Now Pitching for …
Jerry Casale was a big jovial man, around six-foot-two, who laughed easily and schmoozed with all his guests, many of whom came to hear the Phil Rizzuto tape of his home run against the Yankees, even when Casale preferred not to play it. Many times a night. That’s why they were there. That and the sweet Bolognese sauce.
When I knew Casale, in the 1990s, he had a formidable belly, told war stories from his baseball days, and liked to make his guests feel at home. He even gave out his old baseball cards. It was baseball magic.
The Back of Casale’s Baseball Card
Casale pitched five years in the majors. His best year was his first full season with the Boston Red Sox in 1959 when he went 13-8 with a 4.31 ERA over 179.2 innings.
He developed a sore right arm soon after his first season and never threw more than 100 innings again, though his 96.1 innings in 1960 were as close as he would ever come to 100 innings again.
In 1961 Casale was chosen fifth by the Los Angeles Angels in the expansion draft from Boston’s roster. He pitched three months in Los Angeles before the Angels traded him to the Detroit Tigers for pitcher Jim Donohue in June 1961.
Casale appeared in three games for Detroit in 1961 (pitching 12 innings), and 18 games (pitching 36 innings) in 1962 until he hurt his arm again and pitched his last major league game on 22 July 1961. His major league career was over.
Another season in the minors with the New York Mets and his pitching career was finished at age 30. But his association with baseball would never end.
Talk About Those Home Runs
What Casale talked most about were the three home runs he swatted in 1959. The home run most people were familiar with was the blast he smacked over the Green Monster against Bob Turley of the Yankees.
Why? Because Casale constantly played an audiotape of Phil Rizzuto’s radio call of that home run.
I must have heard this call two or three times every time I dined at Pino’s, usually on spaghetti Bolognese, lasagna or eggplant parmigiana. It was baseball magic.
Out of nowhere crackles and hisses dotted the PA, a sure sign the fan favorite was coming. Seconds later, Phil Rizzuto’s tenor sprinkled across the restaurant, announcing Casale’s approach to home plate. Rizzuto reminded fans that Casale was a good hitting pitcher who had already homered earlier that season.
Casale meandered around the space as Rizzuto called the at-bat. Nobody on, nobody out. Bottom of the second inning. The Red Sox lead 4-1. Bob Turley facing the Boston pitcher Jerry Casale. The first pitch is outside, ball one. Turley goes into his windup and here’s the next pitch. Holy Cow!
The ball left the bat with a loud wooden wallop followed by another high-pitched Rizzutoism, Holy Cow! That’s out of here. . . A long home run over the Green Monster. Holy Cow! Boy did he hit that. I don’t know how he hit that fastball. It was high and he swung up on it. Oh man.
Patrons who knew what was coming would pause and play along with the call, feigning surprise. And as the ball left Fenway, every time, applause broke out in the restaurant. Sometimes the cheers were louder than others, but Casale was always serenaded by his guests only too glad to celebrate one of his great moments. Over and over. Probably more times than all the home runs Babe Ruth hit.
If I closed my eyes during Rizzuto’s home run call, I almost felt like I was in the ballpark. Except for the cigar smoke and cussing.
When I opened my eyes, every wall was full of plaques, pictures of baseball memorabilia and, of course, shots of Casale on the mound or in the batter’s box, digging in. There were pictures of Ted Williams, one of Casale’s better known teammates, as well.
Other times, quite often actually, Bobby Murcer, the old Yankee and, at that time, a Yankee television announcer, was eating dinner at his usual corner table. Casale usually pulled up a chair and swapped stories with Murcer and others at the table.
One evening, most of the Hartford Whalers (an NHL team then) took up one side of the restaurant for dinner.
The story of Casale’s first home run against the big right hander of the Washington Senators, Russ Kemmerer, was one of his favorites. Casale said, That homer was one of the longest hit by any Red Sox, someone told me. It was a three-run blast over the center field wall over the screen and under the flag. A nice fat fastball. Didn’t think I could hit it. In fairness, it was my first start.
No one knew he had a Babe Ruth side, yet. That’s Babe Ruth the hitter. Things might have turned out better for him if that had been Babe Ruth the pitcher.
Nonetheless, his brief time in baseball made his place into a magical kingdom of red sauces, baseball stories and fans of all stripes hungry for more. It was baseball magic.
