Three of a Kind

THEY CAME IN various shapes, sizes and colors. They came from the near North Shore and the far East End, from city playgrounds and country ballfields, from single parents and extended families. What they shared was a drive to succeed.

In the history of Nassau and Suffolk counties, three have succeeded as professional athletes beyond all others. They became national figures, symbols of their sports, Hall of Famers. And it all began here, in Manhasset, in Bridgehampton, in Hempstead and Roosevelt.

Jim Brown, Carl Yastrzemski and Julius Erving set standards for Long Island and all American athletes to aspire to. These are their stories:

Jim Brown

On a tip from the athletic director and basketball coach, Ed Walsh left Manhasset High School one day to scout a pair of twins at Manhasset Valley Grade School. The football coach was new in the area and his colleagues wanted the man's impression of the youngsters they considered among the finest athletes to enroll in the district. Walsh reported to the gym where some intramural basketball games were underway. ``The next day they asked me what I thought of those twins,'' Walsh said from his retirement home in Cooperstown. ''And I said, `Sorry, I didn't look at them. But I did see this pudgy guy gliding around the floor and I think he's going to be great.'''

The coach identified a fifth-grader named Jim Brown. Born on St. Simons Island off the coast of Georgia, the youngster had come north to live with his mother, a domestic, first in Great Neck and then in a ground-floor flat on Lee Avenue in Manhasset. Almost from the moment of his introduction to Long Island, he demonstrated an uncommon aptitude for sports.

``He was just a natural at everything he tried,'' said the Rev. Ed Corley, a friend and classmate who is now the minister of the Mt. Olive Baptist Church, just down the street from the former elementary school. ``He almost lived out the myth of being a born athlete. There was no sport he could not master.''

That soon became apparent at Plandome Road Junior High, where Brown's speed made him a standout. As he grew bigger and stronger in high school, he began to dominate. ``His best sport was lacrosse, no question,'' Walsh said. ``He was excellent in basketball, excellent in football. He had ability but he also had more desire than anybody I'd ever seen.''

Walsh, whom Brown still identifies as ``the finest football coach'' he experienced at any level, recalled that he'd have his secretary post the details of the practice session on a bulletin board at the beginning of the day and that Brown would spend most of his lunch period working on drills by himself. After practice, he'd often go home and work out some more in his backyard.

By the time he was a senior, his athletic prowess was such that the Yankees offered him a minor-league contract. Brown switched from lacrosse to baseball in the spring to test himself in the sport. After pitching and playing first base with some success, he decided his skills wouldn't get him to the major leagues so he sent his regrets to Casey Stengel.

In all, he won 13 varsity letters at Manhasset. He averaged 14.9 yard per carry as a running back in leading the Indians to their first undefeated season in 29 years, and averaged 38 points per game in basketball. Almost as a lark, at the suggestion of friend and advisor Ken Molloy, he entered the national decathlon championship in Atlantic City.

With a limited amount of practice using a discus and a heavier shot put borrowed from the Merchant Marine Academy, wearing a pair of track shoes donated by Hofstra coach Howdy Myers after his own had been stolen, competing in a few events for the first time, the high school graduate finished 10th. In a subsequent trip while in college, he earned All-American status by claiming fifth place.

``One day I asked him, `Jim, what do you want to do when you grow up?''' Walsh recalled. ``He said, `I want to play football.' When I asked him why, he said, `Because everything I've tried in my life, I've done my best and developed to a certain point and then run into a racial barrier. But that never happened in football.' It took a lot of wisdom to realize that.''

To Corley, who played alongside him in the backfield, football offered support and the kind of reinforcement he couldn't get at home. ``It was very popular,'' the minister said. ``It got a response from people. It fulfilled more needs than the other sports.''

Molloy, a Manhasset attorney and later a State Supreme Court judge in Nassau County, steered Brown to his alma mater, Syracuse University. But the coaching staffs were cool to the idea of a black athlete in the early 1950s and did not offer a scholarship. Molloy rounded up enough money from the town's business community to pay for the youngster's first-year expenses and extracted a promise from the school that it would put Brown on scholarship if he was as good as advertised.

Despite some rough moments, Brown emerged as the greatest athlete in Syracuse history. As a senior, Brown scored 43 points in a football game against Colgate, was a unanimous All-American at running back and was voted the MVP of the Cotton Bowl. He also earned All-American honors in lacrosse in leading the Orangemen to their first unbeaten season in 33 years.

On the final day of the lacrosse season, Brown won the discus and shot for the track team in a dual meet against Colgate before dressing for the game against Army. He had just put on his pads when a student manager raced in with the announcement that the meet was close and that he was needed for the javelin. Brown changed back into his track suit, tossed the javelin far enough on his first try to clinch the meet and then suited up for his final lacrosse victory.

Brown was selected fifth in the NFL draft by Cleveland, where he earned rookie of the year honors and set a single-game rookie rushing record of 237 yards that wasn't eclipsed until the 1997 season. During his nine professional seasons, all with the Browns, the 6-2, 228-pound Brown led the NFL in rushing eight times. His career mark of 5.2 yards per carry is unchallenged.

He was just 30 when he abruptly retired from football in the summer of 1966 while filming a motion picture in England. Even after opting for the California lifestyle, he remained loyal to those in Manhasset who took an interest in his future, primarily Walsh and Molloy.

``These were high-style people,'' Brown has said. ``I felt like I had gone to another planet in terms of my previous life experiences and what they did was take me from a position of insecurity to one of the best situations I could ever be in. There was no snobbery there, even though it was a really rich community and my family didn't have much.''

Brown's convictions were strong. He invited Molloy to present him for induction at the Pro Football Hall of Fame at Canton where, in 1971, he gazed into the audience and singled out Walsh for praise.

Although it has been more than 30 years since Brown played his last game and many runners have surpassed his career yardage, the legend has not eroded. On his way to becoming the third player in history to exceed 2,000 yards in a season last December, Barry Sanders was asked where he thought he belonged on the all-time list. ``My father says Jim Brown was the greatest,'' he replied, ``and I never disagree with my father.''

Carl Yastrzemski

Carl Yastrzemski wasn't attracted to the family business. It was the family pastime that shaped his life. The potato fields in Water Mill that his father and uncle farmed sustained the body. The baseball fields behind the Bridgehampton school nourished the soul. The mental snapshot so many relatives carry to this day is that of Carl, age 2, dragging a bat behind him.

In time, he became the batboy for the Bridgehampton White Eagles. The team was an outgrowth of the social club for Polish-Americans founded by, among others, the Yastrzemskis. ``We used to hire bands and run dances,'' recalled Tom Yastrzemski, Carl's uncle and godfather, during a visit to the farmhouse that has been in the family for the better part of the century. ``We put the money we made into uniforms.''

All five Yastrzemski men played for the White Eagles. So did the Skoniecznys, brothers of Carl's mother, Hattie. Several cousins filled out the roster but the catalyst was Carl Yastrzemski Sr. He was the shortstop and he hit enough line drives in his youth to pique the interest of the Brooklyn Dodgers.

``They offered a Class D contract for $75 a month,'' the father once recalled, ``and the kid was born by then. I had to say no and stay on the farm. I'm not sorry.''

Baseball was more than an outlet, it was a unifying force. ``It was a different environment then,'' Carl noted recently. ``We all lived within a few miles of each other. My uncles would come over after work and pitch to me. I had a bat I sawed off at the trademark and they'd try to strike me out with a tennis ball from about 40 feet.''

The town seemed to revolve around sports in the post-war years. The fire department headquarters that now stands across the street from the Yastrzemskis' old house on School Street was an open field and Carl and his friends would play stickball in warm weather. ``He used to come into the restaurant and help me wash dishes,'' said Billy DePetris, an old friend and teammate whose father owned an establishment on Main Street, ``just so I could get done sooner and we could play ball.''

Not even the onset of winter could stop Carl, the older of two Yastrzemski sons. He just moved his base of operations. ``You know those tee-ball contraptions with the ball on a string?'' he said. ``I made my own. And in the winter I'd go in the garage with a heavy coat on and take 1,000 swings.''

Such devotion paid dividends. His Little League team advanced to the state finals. His Babe Ruth League team won the New York championship. Carl was a shortstop, like his father, but he also pitched and, when necessary, caught. By the time he reached high school, he was playing for the White Eagles. His father moved over to second base and the player whose mother and friends called Sonny stepped in at short.

The team dissolved after Carl's sophomore year. Father and son took it as an occasion to move up in class. They joined a semi-pro team, the Lake Ronkonkoma Cardinals, whose schedule called for games on Sunday and two nights during the week. ``You had more lights in your living room than they had out there,'' recalled Bots Nekola, the Red Sox' scout. ``I don't know how they saw anything.''

Meanwhile, Carl was emerging as a scholastic star in two sports. With DePetris throwing his baffling knuckleball and Yastrzemski catching, Bridgehampton High School - with a total enrollment of approximately 80 students -- won the Suffolk County Class B championship in 1956. Fearing injury, the older Yastrzemski had forced Carl to give up six-man football but the youngster continued to play basketball and set a Suffolk County scoring record with 628 points in 1956-57. He followed that with a remarkable senior season in baseball, batting .650 and pitching a no-hitter against Center Moriches in the country championship game.

The Yankees were the most aggressive suitors. Ray Garland, the area scout, was authorized to offer $60,000. The father wanted the princely sum of $100,000. Their negotiating session ended in angry words and the father vowed never again to speak to the Yankees, a promise he kept.

Instead, the son headed off to Notre Dame on a baseball-basketball scholarship. The Tigers, Phillies and Reds vied for Carl's services the following summer but the father raised the stakes to $100,000 plus the cost of a college education. It wasn't until Thanksgiving, 1958, on the occasion of a trip to Fenway Park, that Carl Sr. gave his consent.

At the signing, Nekola told Johnny Murphy, the Red Sox' farm director who would later become general manager of the Mets, that the father had outhit the son, .450 to .430, in their final season as teammates. ``Maybe,'' Murphy suggested with amusement, ``we signed the wrong Yastrzemski.''

If so, the Red Sox never regretted it. The younger Yastrzemski had the unenviable task of replacing Ted Williams in leftfield but he not only survived under the pressure, he prospered. He led American League outfielders in assists seven times, won three batting titles and became the last major-leaguer to win a Triple Crown while leading the Red Sox to the World Series in 1967. Despite his ordinary size, the 5-11 left-handed batter became a one-name athletic giant in New England: Yaz.

By the time his career ended in 1983, he had played in more major-league games than everyone but Pete Rose and had compiled 3,419 hits, a figure exceeded by only five men in history. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1989, his first year of eligibility.

Mansions have sprouted on many of the former potato fields in the area and the high school hasn't fielded a baseball team in more than two decades. One reminder of the way it was is at Tom Yastrzemski's spread in nearby Water Mill, where the entrance is marked by a bat and ball nailed to a large tree and a sign identifying the property as Yazberry Fields Farm.

Julius Erving

Julius Erving was 11 when he walked into Don Ryan's life. Thirty-six years later, despite several relocations, most recently to Florida, Erving is still a presence. Now an executive with the Orlando Magic, the man remains a role model for the youth program at the Salvation Army center in Hempstead. At 3, his parents separated and Erving moved into a project at 50 Beech (now Evans) Avenue with his mother, older sister and younger brother. His apartment overlooked Campbell Park and the outdoor basketball courts, where he excelled. It wasn't height that distinguished him from his peers but his long arms, large hands and innate grasp of the sport.

He so impressed Andy Haggerty that the playground director recommended Erving and a friend to Ryan, whom he had coached on a Police Boys Club team. Ryan, a student at Adelphi, lived a block from the new Salvation Army center and had accepted a position as director of the basketball program. Erving would become the high scorer and most valuable player on Ryan's second team.

``My life changed forever because of that experience,'' Erving said recently. Certainly, the gymnasium was a step up from that in the Prospect School, a former coal bin whose ceilings were no higher than eight feet, and it certainly was more comfortable than outdoor games in mid-winter. The floor was linoleoum, not wood as it is today, and the backboards were of the half-moon, tin variety rather than glass but, after where he had been, he said, ``It seemed like Madison Square Garden.''

Ryan's intent was not just to develop good basketball players but outstanding citizens. Players had to bring their report cards and stay out of trouble. ``I think the program was a foundation of the community,'' recalled Al Williams, who later enjoyed success at Niagara University. ``You had to go three nights a week. There was good supervision, academic motivation and, for those without religion, it was an introduction. Being a `Sal Boy' meant something in town. In fact, it still does.''

The team competed in the Inter-County Basketball Assocation but it also accepted games all over Long Island. The cost of transportation was cheaper than the cost of hiring a referee, which the home team had to do, because the transportation was Ryan's station wagon. The traveling had a significant impact on Erving.

``I saw what it looked like on the other side of the fence,'' he said years later. ``I started to ask questions, `How do you get this and how do you get that?' And people told me if you did well in school and went on to college and graduated you could get a job with a good income. Then you could buy what you wanted. So I set my mind to this.''

Ryan drove the team to York, Pa., for a Salvation Army tournament one year and to Philadelphia the next. But the highlight of Erving's time in the program occurred at the World's Fair in Flushing Meadow Park in the summer of 1964. By winning the Ray Felix tournament at P.S. 127 in Elmhurst, the team earned four spots on an all-star squad of New York playground champs that met their counterparts from Philadelphia at the Singer Bowl. Theirs was the first in a series of games that featured such playground legends as Earl Manigault and such celebrated pros as Wilt Chamberlain, Tom Sanders and Guy Rodgers.

During that same summer, Erving's mother remarried and the family moved to nearby Roosevelt, where a new park had recently been completed. Roosevelt Park contained a small lake and tree-shaded benches, a picnic area, flower beds and a large playground for small children. But the biggest attraction were the two full-sized basketball courts, side-by-side. Years later, one of those courts would be dedicated to Erving.

It was there, about a mile from his house, where he developed the moves that would make him famous and perfected them against older and taller opponents. His attitude remained such that although he was the best player on his high school team as a junior, he didn't object when coach Ray Wilson started five seniors. Even as sixth man, Erving led the team in scoring and rebounding.

Still, entering his senior year, he hadn't received much attention from college recruiters. Two things happened to raise his profile. First, he gained three inches to 6-3 over the summer, and then led Roosevelt to a conference co-championship with favored Hempstead, where Williams was the star. Erving considered St. John's and Hofstra but eventually accepted a scholarship from University of Massachusetts coach Jack Leaman, a former college teammate of Wilson.

UMass had an old gym with a leaky wooden roof and a student body apathetic to basketball before Erving's arrival. In leading the freshman team to an undefeated record, he succeeded in filling Curry Hicks Cage and energizing the program. The Minutemen earned berths in the National Invitation Tournament during each of his two varsity seasons and he established a nickname.

Leon Saunders, a teammate and friend from Roosevelt, joined Erving in Amherst, Mass. ``I used to call him `Professor' because he always wanted to argue,'' Erving said. ``He'd call me `Doctor.' In college, he'd call me `Doctor' around the dorm and everywhere and it stuck.''

When the player took his evolving game to the famous Rucker Tournament in Harlem, the announcer made up names to describe Erving's flights of fancy. ``I already have a nickname,'' Erving finally told him. ``Just call me Doctor.''

He became Dr. J when he accepted a four-year $500,000 contract from the Virginia Squires of the struggling American Basketball Association. Grown to 6-6, freed from the constraints of zone defenses and presented with a green light to dunk, Erving became an overnight sensation. He was traded to the Nets in 1973 and led the team to two ABA championships in the final three years of the league's existence.

``I think coming back home gave me a responsibility,'' Erving said. ``Don used to say, `All the kids think they can make it now.'''

Erving made it a point to stay in touch even after the financial fallout from the 1976 merger sent him to the Philadelphia 76ers. He won an MVP award and an NBA championship before he retired but, just as significantly, burnished the league's faltering image not only with his spectacular play but his intelligence and decency. Before retiring in 1987, he became the third professional player to score more than 30,000 career points.

``I look at him and he hasn't changed,'' Williams said recently. ``He's just gotten wealthier. But he's a good person.''

And still a friend of Ryan, whose program is now in its 37th year, and the Salvation Army. Indeed, Erving received the Pinnacle of Achievement Award at the Salvation Army's 50th annual Greater New York Association luncheon last December, joining a distinguished list of honorees that includes Gen. Douglas MacArthur, several U.S. Presidents and Mother Hale.

Related topic galleries: Colleges and Universities, Babe Ruth, Madison Square Garden, National Football League, Triple Crown, Wilt Chamberlain, Orlando Magic