Softball Team

Team Video

Cathy McCormick

Pete was my friend. He was an exceptional athlete-artist and lived his life in commitment to social justice. His elegant artwork was quietly formal and conveyed an exquisite, subtle color palette. As field manager of my softball team, he led play with a calm diplomacy, quirky humor, and ferocious competitiveness. As a player he crushed homers, had an arm like a laser, and ran like a gazelle. Our team, like the Office for the Arts Ceramics community, has been utterly devastated by losing him. Long may you run, Pete!

Jed Orsini

On the bench, before or after a game, Pete was trying to describe a funny scene in the movie, “What We Do in the Shadows.”  I still haven’t seen the movie or have any idea what was so funny because Pete was overcome with the giggles. He was laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes.  He was clever and quick with a joke but I’d never seen that part of his personality.

Danny Abramson and Penley Knipe

Pete was, on the softball team, a completely unique blend of competitiveness and compassion. Always pushing, competing, and so hard on himself if he didn’t hit the ball as hard as he wanted (although he was one of our best) or made an error in the field. At the same time, he was full of mercy for our opponents, never wanting to run up the score on them, which drove me nuts since I knew how quickly our team could give up buckets of runs and lose the game. Pete was the soul of our team in these ways, truly the best of us. At the beginning of every game he devised crazy batting lineups based on ancestry, geography, birthdays, education, and whatever else came into his head. I miss him every day.

Andrew McClellan

Two things come to mind about Peter.

First, his random and nutty batting orders kept us amused and on our toes: “Line up in the order of the first letter of your middle name!  Or the day of the month you were born! Or the furthest birthplace away from Boston!” They were always spontaneous, creative and deeply non-competitive. For as much as he cared about playing well himself, he never arranged batting orders in a way to win the game, as most captains would, because doing so would rank people according to their skill and that’s not what Fogg softball was about. The competitive part of me (and others) grumbled, and he probably knew that, but the principles of fairness and fun mattered most, and ultimately we all respected that; it kept the games fun and gave the team great espirit de corps. We also loved how he never got down about a losing game, and always had an encouraging word for anyone who was. Year in and year out, he was field captain for a reason.

One amusing moment came to mind from our softball season two years ago. After a game we went to the roof of the Tufts library for pizza and beer. With his typical good-natured competitiveness, Peter suggested we try tossing the pizza boxes off the roof into the trash dumpsters several stories below. It was impossible, none of them went in and, like the good citizen he was, he went down to collect them and throw them away. I took a photo of him from above with my phone and next day circulated it among the team saying the Tufts police had issued a surveillance camera photo with a request for information about the people who had been eating and drinking on the library roof. I think it took a minute before he cottoned on it was a practical joke, which he took with customary grace and good humor. 

One way and another Peter was at the heart of our team. Off and on, I played with him for 25 years, maybe more; I will miss him. The team will play on but his spirit and integrity can’t be replaced.

Kathleen Smith Redman

But Pete, you were just here

connecting, striding, absolutely glowing—

Breathe your light into each star

as you glide through the night sky

Stardust covered cleats

show us your way home.