Tom King

A quick check of the cell phone would indicate a call from Bill Twomey.

Normally, the call back in that situation would be fairly immediate, if time allowed.

But that was always the problem when Bill Twomey would call. You had to block off the time – a good hour – even if it was a simple question he had, or piece of what was always useful information.

So the call might not get returned for a couple of days. Goodness, maybe a week. You see, with Bill, there was never, ever, ever a short conversation.

So we’d pull out the calendar and mark down a day and time when we could call him back. Really. But the call back was always worth it.

Those who knew him know exactly what we’re talking about, and we’re sure you’re laughing right now. There was never a short conversation with Bill Twomey, because he would just captivate you with story after story after story. As one local coach tweeted, “Bill loved to talk baseball and then talk more baseball.”

“There was no more friendly and dedicated baseball lifer who was more willing to share his time, knowledge and his experiences in the states and in Europe with you than Bill,” Nashua ETV sportscaster John Collins, who called several Nashua Pride games on radio, said in a tweet last week.

Sadly, we won’t hear any of those stories again following Twomey’s fairly sudden passing just about a week ago.

He was everyone’s baseball coach. If there was a team to help coach, Twomey would be with it. We can’t imagine how many different caps he had.

It was always great seeing him coach at first base during the Nashua Pride’s time here, most all home games and maybe a few road ones as well. He and pitching coach Andre Rabouin, and later Rick Wise, enjoyed their Atlantic City trips when the Pride played the AC Surf.

Twomey endeared himself to the first Pride manager, Mike Easler. Then, the following year, after Easler took a job as the St. Louis Cardinals hitting coach, the Pride hired Bobby Tolan as their new skipper. Tolan, for whatever reason, had no use for Twomey, and Twomey could sense it, and wasn’t with the team after the start of the 1999 season.

But when the Pride made probably the best move in their history in hiring Butch Hobson as their manager, Twomey was welcomed back with open arms. Hobson loved Twomey, and so did all the Pride players, other coaches, team employees, and the fans.

“Bill gave a ton of his time to get professional baseball back in Nashua when the Pride came to town,” the Pride’s clubbie back then, Scott Bilodeau, said in a tweet. “In the clubhouse he was an incredible role model to those players and those of us working. Complete class act.”

And then Bilodeau repeated a line another media member said back during the Pride’s heyday.

“He was,” Bilodeau said, “our Johnny Pesky.”

Even more than that, Twomey was the conscience of the game. There have been a couple of columns in this space that dealt with the state of amateur/youth/school baseball in Nashua, and to see if that perspective was on target, yes, we’d block off the time and give Twomey a call. It was always worth it.

Before the Pride, there were the independent and ill-fated Nashua Hawks. Twomey was that team’s manager Harry Ayotte’s sidekick, and the two were quite the road trip tandem. Ayotte unfortunately passed away just over 10 years ago.

But the Hawks weren’t exactly a legit operation off the field, and we certainly chronichled that in this space. That didn’t set well with Twomey, because he cared so much about the game and its image locally, and he let yours truly know about it. It was probably the only time we’ve heard him angry, over 25 years ago.

Everyone loved Bill Twomey – everyone. Twitter is sometimes a necessary evil in the media business, but nothing yours truly has ever tweeted got more response than relaying the news of Twomey’s passing.

Twomey kept his distance from the local game the last few years. Every once in awhile we’d spot him at a high school game as a solitary figure watching from down the line in right field, near the concession stand picnic tables. He always had his pipeline in the game, and if someone he saw locally was worth it, that name made it down the pipeline which included scouts, college coaches, etc. Remember, one of Twomey’s prized pupils went on to be a Major League general manger, Neal Huntington. Huntington still refers to his former coach as “Mr. Twomey” to this day.

Hopefully a spot at Holman – perhaps in the Legends of Holman Hall of Fame – and/or a field in this city can bear his name.

You see, a ballfield was Bill Twomey’s heaven. And now hopefully that’s where he is, enjoying baseball banter with all the game’s departed greats.

Yet what we wouldn’t give for another phone call or two from Bill Twomey. Rest in peace, dear friend and local baseball legendary coach – and storyteller.

You are already sorely missed.

Tom King can be reached at tking@nashuatelegraph.com, or on twitter @Telegraph _TomK.