Remembering John "Zeke" Bella Jr.

Written by Patch Editor Chris Dehnel

In reflecting on the passing Zeke Bella this week, two anecdotes come to mind. 

One involves the funniest thing I have ever heard an umpire say at any level, but represents his unyielding commitment to sports and the town's young people. 

The other simply says what kind of man Zeke was. 

On a sunny evening at Havemeyer Field in 1976 during the heyday of Lowell Weicker's Greenwich Senators Junior Babe Ruth League team, Zeke donned his umpiring gear to call balls and strikes. 

The catcher threw to second base, the infield tossed the ball around and then returned it to the pitcher and Zeke assumed the position. 

Then, his pants ripped. 

Right downtime back seam. Huge tear.

Undaunted, he told the pitcher to wait a second, walked to the backstop, took off his mask and said without hesitation, "Hey ladies … do any of you have a safety pin?"

Zeke made a quick repair and the game began and finished in his typical conversational style. That's how he was - a former major leaguer who found his niche to give back. Ripped trousers were not going to stop a game with Zeke in charge. 

The second took place a decade later. I had a Tuesday/Friday season ticket package to the Mets games that season and also had a chance to cover the team by doing a few feature stories as a sports staffer for the Greenwich Time.

Before a game one Tuesday evening in Sec. 18 of the loge, a few of us were talking about how my dad and Tim Teufel's dad coached together. The subject turned to another Greenwich major leaguer. 

"Well Zeke …"

"Wait? Zeke Bella?" came a voice from the row above. 

"Yes."

"You know Zeke Bella?"

"Yes for years. Great guy."

"I love Zeke Bella. I loved watching him with the Yanks - and even the Athletics."

The man's name was Norman and he was a huge fan of all that is - and was - New York baseball. I arrived at the office the next day and before heading out to a game, I called Zeke. I shared the story of Norman.

"I'll come over in the morning with something for him," Zeke said. 

"Really?"

"Yes."

Zeke arrived the next morning with a mint condition Kansas City baseball card. The image of him as a young man stood out even as a black-and-white photo inside a yellow background. He personalized an autograph for Norman. 

The next night, I walked up to Norman and gave it to him. 

He was speechless. I said Zeke insisted he have this. He wept.  

It was classic Zeke. 

Miss him already. With Zeke gone, Greenwich has lost an icon - someone who cracked the big-time and then came back to serve out local athletes.

Yep. The town now has a big tear right down the center of its sports landscape.