~ Malden Musings ~ The 2025 Edgeworth Bocce Tournament Finals

By Peter Levine

This is a Malden story. This is our story. From Linden to Maplewood to Oak Grove to Amerige and all points in between. This is but one of our stories…

The inaugural Edgeworth Bocce Tournament rolled into history on a warm September Saturday night, the kind of night where the air still hangs heavy with summer but the post-Saint Rocco Feast whispers of fall sneak in. It was only supposed to be for bragging rights among a tightknit crew of lifelong paisans — but in real life, in Edgeworth, bragging rights are sacred currency. These were the same friends who survived Ms. Willard’s icy glare (aka thunderbolts) back in their Emerson School days, so a little bocce ball tension was but a piece of cake. The battleground? Marco DiScipio’s backyard arena on Pearl Street, freshly groomed and lit like the Boston Garden (well… if the old Garden had citronella candles and a cooler full of Bud Light).

The competition was fierce, the banter relentless, and every roll came with a side of Larry Bird–type trash talk. Some called it skill, others swore it was sheer luck, but one thing was certain — this was bocce at its grittiest. After hours of sweat, merry making, copious amounts of spirits consumed and more than a few “creative” interpretations of the rules, the dust settled.

Crowned champions: Billy Smeglin (yes, that Billy Smeglin, the ICL Hall of Famer himself) and his partner-in-precision Marco DiScipio. Against all odds — and despite whispers of shady maneuvers and downright scandalous shenanigans — they stood victorious. The trophy? Eternal neighborhood glory… until next year “if the good Lord’s willing and the crick don’t rise.”

The roster of players this evening was a virtual Who’s Who of Edgeworth characters from days of yore: buskers, huskers, dawn to duskers — swimmers, sinkers, fools and thinkers; everyone you’ve ever seen and all the rest in between. Brothers Dom and Ken Bucci came out of hibernation for this special event and needed no time dusting off the cobwebs. Dickie (Santo’s) wife Kim (Bionelli) gave him a special permission slip to participate but warned that he would be sleeping in the back hall if he didn’t bring home the bacon (and maybe a couple of slices of Sicilian from Pisa Pizza)! Yes, just like her little brother Johnny, a take control Maldonian! You know David Zinetti because he’s been the face of Edgeworth Appliance (President actually) “since goodness knows when” (another Stooge line shamelessly lifted) and has been the reliable go-to guy for all your major home appliances. Always going the extra mile for his customers and Malden! As you can see, an all-star cast of palsy-walsy types.

And now a word from our sponsor…Dickie Santo: “This was our first bocce tournament! Hardly what you would compare to the league over at the Citizens’ Club! Those guys are fanatical! Marco (DiScipio) is one of the last men standing living in the neighborhood at his childhood home on Pearl. He lives next to the old Brandano’s Restaurant where Richie Cremone made his bones. First as an iconic chef, then as a larger-than-life personality. Recently retired City of Malden HR Director and Springsteen groupie, Anthony Chiccuarelli, also still lives in Malden (Revere line). But just about everyone else from the old gang has bolted. Billy ‘Smegs’ Smeglin lives in Wakefield. Zinetti in Middleton. Kenny Bucci is in Lynnfield. Mario Russo splits time between his condos in Fort Myers, FL and Maine. Dommy ‘Boo Boo’ Bucci lives in West Peabody (another Maldonian living in North Malden!). Steve Pulsifer splits his time between his cribs in western Mass and South Carolina. Peter Chiacchia lives in Saint Petersburg, FL. My beautiful bride (Kim) and I (best decision I ever made in my life marrying that gal) live in Reading. Greg DeCandia lives in Revere and still looks like he could compete on the baseball diamond. Billy Pitts is in Lowell. Phillip ‘Dommy’s Little Brother’ DiSario is in Tewksbury. Vinny ‘Wizard’ Pagliccia is in Everett. Vinnie’s big brother Joe ‘Bag of Donuts’ Pagliccia is at Station Landing in Meffa and swears by the Calamari Siciliani at Polcari’s! Dommy ‘The Prince of Peace’ Settemio calls Eastie home but is a frequent guest of Malden often visiting big brother Billy and keeping in close contact with fellow 1976 classmate, Mr. Social Butterfly hisself, Frankie Levine. My brother Barry is in Vegas. My littlest brother Robbie (celebrated Malden athlete – drafted by the Baltimore Orioles) is also in Malden North aka West Peabody. Pat Carey and Johnny ‘Coosh’ Cucinotta recently moved to Missouri (witness protection program?). Mikey Rowe still resides in Malden up behind the old Malden Hospital, a stone’s throw from the Rez. Nobody has heard from Mike ‘Cass’ Casamento in years, current whereabouts unknown but an APB has been issued. And of course, Brian ‘Boog’ Powers, who sadly, is no longer with us. RIP Boogaloo! Some of us try to get together every few months in person and some keep in touch through Facebook. We do what we can to keep it together.”

My thoughts, Dickie’s thoughts, anybody who grew up in Edgeworth/Malden’s thoughts… When you grow up in a neighborhood like Edgeworth, the friendships you form in childhood last like forever. No lie. It’s in your Ward 2/Malden DNA. It’s a century or so in the making that creates these gosh darn ties that bind — ties that bind our hearts and souls through thick and thin and through the decades that just won’t slow down. As much as we implore them to! Unbreakable relationships learned from our elders over Sunday dinner, the San Rocco Feast, Schlitz and that ever so tiny strip of real estate we called our very own — inherited from the generation before us — Edgeworth. Truth be told…there are no boundaries to decide where exactly Edgeworth lies, it’s most definitely a state of mind (right, Dennis?).

Dickie Santo continues from the heart: “It’s always great getting together with the guys over a few beers, a few glasses of wine, and of course a couple of shots of Mario Russo’s homemade limoncello. We reminisce about all the wild and crazy times we had back in the day hanging out at Pearl Street Park. And as we age, the tales get larger and longer and taller and more, well, unrecognizable, but that’s how we remember. Those are the ties that bind. That’s how we roll. We would not trade those days for a winning scratch ticket or even a years’ worth of gabagool! Fuhgeddaboudit and thanks for listening, Peter!”

So, here’s a delightful Mario Russo story for you. It’s late1960s, Malden. Mario is fresh off the boat from Italy, a wide-eyed, fresh-faced fifth grader just trying to fit in at the Emerson School. I’m in sixth grade, running with Billy Settemio and the rest of the Italian neighborhood crew (hello, Mike Scibelli and Jimmy Damano).

One day, Billy gets summoned to the principal’s office. Mr. Feeley leans across the desk and asks, “You speak Italian, right?” Billy shrugs — “a little.” Turns out he needs a translator. Enter young Mario Russo and his mom, straight from the old country. Here’s the issue: Mario has developed this little habit of nodding off in class right after lunch. Head down, snoozing away on one of those ancient wooden desks. Teacher thinks it’s a discipline problem. But no, we eventually find out, it’s a cultural one.

See, back in Italy, wine isn’t some forbidden “demon drink.” It’s considered a food group by many. Kids grow up sipping vino with Sunday dinner, at their confirmation and even during Halloween (the sound of crickets to indicate my joke has bombed)! By the fifth grade, Mario Russo is already a seasoned pro.

So, in his trusty Flintstones lunchbox, nestled between his gabagool sub and fruit snack, was the standard-issue mason jar of red wine. Totally normal back home. Totally frowned upon in late 1960s Malden. So, Billy, barely 11 years old, is tasked with breaking the news: “Uhh… Mrs. Russo… maybe Mario should save the Chianti for dinner time?” And that’s how Mario Russo became the only child at Emerson ever to be kept after class for bringing his own wine list.

And now a word from our sponsor… “Malden Musings” has never been just about dusty memories or faded photographs. It strives to be about the heartbeat of a city — the people, the places, and the small, shared moments that remind us of who we are and where we came from. It’s about the echo of the jukebox at Mike’s Café, the crack of a bat at Devir Park and the effortless laughter of friends who grew up together and never really drifted apart. My hope is that this story brought a bit of that feeling back — that quiet warmth of remembering not just a time or a place, but the people who made it all matter.

It is said in “Malden Musings”…

• Happy belated birthday to little brother Frank. Frankie and I have traveled many, many miles together on this long journey through life. From walks over the Charlestown Bridge as children — destination Galleria Umberto — to the Devir Park Bandstand to the Dream at Jaspers, to sun splashed afternoons in the Bleachers at Fenway, to the I.T.M.B. at the Centre Bar & Grille, to the Outlets at the Rat, to the Vogue Lounge and all points in between! This stone-cold Maldonian has lived (mumble, mumble) colorful years with few regrets and no intention of slowing down. Many more, Frankie, and zay gezunt, as grandpa used to say!
• I heard the NIASHF (Mass. Chapter) Induction Ceremony on October 5 at Anthony’s was a smashing success! Two quick highlights of note: Red Sox legend and Impossible Dream year hero Americo “Rico” Petrocelli and (the late) Bobby “Zebra” Spinney’s little brother Mark were in attendance! I’ll get a more detailed update from President Dave (Caiazzo) for next week’s column.

As Peter Falk’s iconic TV character Columbo would say, “Just one more thing, sir” — oy vey, do we get letters! My recent interview with a local pol elicited more than the usual “bundle of letters” from the unwashed masses who call Malden home. “Useless bus lanes” and “underutilized bike paths” were the gist of most of these missives. But I digress… Once again please allow me to reiterate (“not in here, you don’t!”) — I promise, one last time…

If you’ve been hanging around my corner of the page for any length of time, you already know my articles lean toward the lighter side of life (with the occasional detour into something a little meatier). If you’re hunting for investigative journalism, exposés or the kind of “gotcha” reporting that rattles the Facebook pages Malden Politics, Penny, or Nickel, you’ve officially wandered into the wrong zip code.

Sure, I’ll sometimes sit down with a local pol or an ambitious office-seeker, but don’t expect policy-heavy jargon or a 10-point infrastructure plan. That’s not my M.O. My style is more about peeling back the curtain and trying to show you the human person behind the handshake. In fact, over the past 10-15 years or so, I’ve lobbed more softball questions at aspiring pols than (the legendary) Rod “Puggy” Forbes and Steve “The Pride of Belmont” Bellavia combined in their entire softball careers!

So, once again, to the Maldonian who suggested my Steve Winslow chat was too soft — my advice? Next time you see Steve (and trust me, you will see him; the man gets around), go ahead and hit him with the tough ones yourself. No need to thank me for the suggestion.

Meanwhile, stick with me for what this column has always been: a “show/article about nothing.” Like Seinfeld pitching NBC back in Season 4, my storylines are stitched together from everyday Malden blips, oddball Maldonia encounters, and the little absurdities that make life in our corner of the world (at times) both maddening and (at other times) magical. Insert emoji here to indicate great pleasure.

Postscript: Gold star to those who got the “reiterate — not in here you don’t” line (Johnny Bionelli and Frank Levine need not apply).

—Peter is a longtime Malden resident and a regular contributor to The Malden Advocate. He can be reached at Pe*****@*ol.com for comments, compliments or criticisms.