In May of 2021 I made the effort to reconnect with three former Central Catholic classmates. Fittingly enough I traveled to Pittsburgh with my mother who was apparently also feeling the pangs of nostalgia. Tim Ryder, who I knew as the enthusiastic kid with the eager-for-life attitude drove to Pittsburgh from his home in smalltown Ohio to meet with me. Tim had been very responsive when I had initially reached out. He had taken the time to read my entire Chicago 8th grade and Pittsburgh high school memoir. I was genuinely thrilled to receive his lengthy and articulate feedback to my writings. The work seemed to trigger similar reflections from Tim.
As we walked around the area surrounding Central Catholic, Tim shared his experiences during that same time period of 89’-93’. He was open and honest about the challenges he faced and the fears that nearly consumed him. I was grateful that he was willing to share the tough moments he endured and how he ultimately overcame them. I apologized to Tim for in effect going MIA as a friend shortly after the midway point of freshman year as I sleepwalked through my three years at Central Catholic. Tim brushed it off and replied, “I always had good memories of you Jim.”. He also added a key piece of truth, “Pittsburgh will always be a part of you!”. He is very right about that. Incredibly enough, I have grown quite fond of Pittsburgh. The landscape, the hills, the bridges, and the lush greenery that abounds in summer appeals to me. Tim’s genuine spirit and kindness served to make our conversation rich and rewarding. I am so grateful that he read my memories, shared his own story and so very glad that we had met up.
Timmy Ryder: Pittsburgh to the core!
The next day I had the pleasure to have a coffee with Tom Adrian. Tom had been the sandy blond-haired kid with the eagle eye focus and passion for sport. Whereas I was lumbering around lost in the teenage wilderness, Tom was organized and purposeful. Soon after we sat down, Tom was quick to identify that Central Catholic was an institution set in its ways and traditions. Students either adapted or as in my case, we fell by the wayside. Tom by his own admission had the skillset and mentality to adapt and excel. His statement bore no sense of arrogance, simply an acknowledgment of what was.
He also touched upon my most painful memory of Central: The failure to make the cut as a basketball player. “We had big expectations for you when you arrived from Chicago. You probably did have the ability, but we were surprised at how unseasoned you were.” His frank assessment made sense. I had no experience of playing basketball at any organized level up to that point. Nonetheless, Tom’s observation pierced my ego and served as a reminder that the wound was still there after all these years. Tom is a highly intelligent, focused individual with well-developed ideas and opinions. He’s much the way I remembered him. I was happy that my memories of Tom Adrian matched up with the 46-year-old man I sat down with for coffee. I admire Tom.
Tom Adrian: “You ready to run some suicides Jim?”
My last day in Pittsburgh I walked from my hotel to a Pittsburgh institution, Primanti Bros Sandwich Shop to have some beers with Kevin Klingensmith. As a student at Central, he gave me the impression of a kid who was in the know, had fun, didn’t take things too seriously, and seemed ultimately decent. He shed light on the basketball system that was in place at the grade school level. The hierarchy that existed amongst the Catholic schools and the players involved. He validated my notion that players such as Frank Folino already carried a reputation from grade school. Seems as if Folino, Bret Smith, and others were part of a powerhouse grade school program. Kevin pointed out how the coaches were firmly entrenched in their ideas and how this affected playing time at Central. He noted that a talented and smart player like Tom Adrian barely saw any court time due to coach’s allegiances.
When I shared my memory of when Kevin made me his first pick when we were putting together basketball teams in late fall of 1989, he simply responded, “Yeah, that’s probably right. You were the big kid from Chicago.” Kevin was dialed into a lot of the machinations at Central Catholic. While obviously intelligent, Kevin didn’t walk the straight and narrow like Tom. Not a troublemaker by any stretch of the imagination, but he was the kid who knew where the party was at. I soaked up his recollections and the insights he shared. Kevin works in the restaurant industry and the there is a bit of the Anthony Bourdain about him. Well, with his beard heavily accented with grey and his glasses he could also be the lovechild of Santa and Bourdain. “When you reached out about meeting up there was never any doubt. You were a Central guy, and I was going to make the time.” Cheers Kevin and thank you.
Kevin gave me the scoop on all things Central Catholic related.
I would be remiss if I did not mention Terrence Smith. He was Bret Smith’s brother and I remember him well. While Bret was cautious and slightly guarded in nature, Terrence was more exuberant and ready with a smile. I remember Terrence our freshman year during what must have been a theatre or English class exercise. At one point he makes the statement while on the stage of the auditorium “There ain’t no romance without the finance!” The line aroused a laugh from the class, and it stuck with me. Sadly, Kevin told me the awful news that Terrence was shot and killed around 20 years ago. This is the song that Terrence lifted that clever line from:
I had never heard this song before. Gwen Gutherie’s, “Ain’t Nothing Going On But The Rent” went #1 on the R&B charts in September 1986, but somehow just #42 on Billboard 100. However, the track deservedly went top 5 in the UK. Well played Terrence. RIP.
A pattern that developed in the encounters with my ex-classmates was that I listened far more than I spoke. I don’t say that to pat myself on the back as a kind of enlightened listener. I can also be a chatterbox who loves the sound of his own voice. But I was there for information, and each one of the fellas recognized that. I posed the questions that I wanted, and each one of them were generous with their time and responses. Tom, Kevin, and Tim helped make my trip to Pittsburgh worthwhile.
Tom Adrian could see that I was searching and made the observation that after a while, you simply have to move on. This is undoubtedly true. It was important for me to confront the profoundly empty years in Pittsburgh that I had never fully acknowledged and the effects thereafter. I can come to terms with what happened and take responsibility for failing to adapt and failing to persevere to make the best of the situation. On the other hand, I needed to acknowledge that there were a lot of factors working against me: No father figure. No background in organized sports because of the tiny, fundamentalist Christian grade school I attended. Having no clue about how anything worked at Central. But ultimately, one must take ownership and adapt. Yet sometimes, back in Chicago, when I run in the morning in the field at Hiawatha Park near my house, and I turn up field on my last lap, not often, but once in a while, my mind takes me to a conditioning practice at Central Catholic running with Tom Adrian or the Cheeseborough twins that never happened. My pace quickens, my arms pump faster, my face tightens, my eyes narrow, and I run fast. I run fast and hard and rage at what could have been.
Gospel Outreach School and High School Memories 1988-1992 