Dreaming About Rico Petrocelli

by admin | June 12, 2026 7:59 am

I had a dream about Rico Petrocelli the other night.

He came up to me in a bar, or possibly a hotel lobby, extended his hand, and said, “I’m Rico Petrocelli.” I replied, “I thought I recognized you.” He looked just like the baseball card photo I found of him online. In real life, Petrocelli turns 83 this month.

Petrocelli was a two-time All-Star shortstop for the Boston Red Sox from the mid-1960s through the mid-1970s. He was a key part of the Impossible Dream team of 1967, which improbably won the American League pennant after years as league doormats. That was a simpler time, with two 10-team leagues — no divisions, no wild cards. The Red Sox won the pennant in the final game of the season, beating the Twins. The day before, I sat in the center-field bleachers at Fenway Park with my dad and my closest friend, Bruce Courtemanche, and watched the Sox tie for first. I will never forget that experience, going on 60 years ago. (I likely will never stop talking about it either.)

The Red Sox lost the 1967 World Series in seven games to the St. Louis Cardinals, continuing the Curse of the Bambino launched in 1918 when Boston traded Babe Ruth to the Yankees. It would be another 37 years — 2004 — befo[1]re the curse ended. They have won three World Series since then. I crossed an item off my bucket list by attending Game One of the Fall Classic at Fenway Park in 2007.

Carl Yazstremski was my baseball hero, playing left field for the 1967 team. He won the Triple Crown that season — leading in batting average, home runs, and RBIs. (It would be 45 years before that feat was repeated.) But I was mighty fond of Rico as well. I liked his name, for one thing. “Rico” has a nice ring to it. I also admired his style of play. He was an excellent fielder and a surprising power hitter. For a time, he held the record for most home runs by a major league shortstop.

His career faded after he was hit in the head by a pitch from Jim Slaton of the Milwaukee Brewers in 1974. After that, inner ear problems often put him on the disabled list. He retired two seasons later and entered broadcasting. Rico also served as a minor league manager for four seasons.

I have no idea why I dreamed about Rico. Glad to know he is still going strong at nearly 83.

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The baseball season is not quite half over. It looks like my beloved team, allegiance to whom was handed down by two generations of French-Canadians who settled in New England, will have to buy tickets to get into the World Series this year. As of this writing, the Red Sox are mired in the cellar, 10 games below .500. Being a Red Sox fan, I will not abandon all hope until it is mathematically impossible for them to make the playoffs.

Dan Shaughnessy got his first byline in the Boston Globe in 1973. He has been writing a sports column for that paper, which I subscribe to online, since 1989. I read it regularly. One of my favorite quotations from this sharp-tongued scribe: Defensively, the Red Sox are a lot like Stonehenge. They are old, they don’t move, and no one is certain why they are positioned the way they are.

Another, with which I identify: When you are 10, you know more about your team than you will even know again.

The other day, I was looking at the Red Sox starting roster after yet another loss. I recognized one name from last season. Gone, for the most part, are the days when a player spent most of his career at one major league team. It makes it hard to stay enthused, but I am trying.

As they say in Fenway, followed by five hand claps: Let’s Go, Red Sox!

I am sure Rico would agree.

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