As a middle-aged man, I seem to spend more time thinking about “legacy”. What will be my mark on the world when I’m gone? How will I be remembered? Initially it was just a passing thought but lately, the thoughts have morphed into a stream of consciousness. And that stream picked up momentum and felt more like the West Virginia rapids after I heard the heartbreaking news about Joe Sperato.
I first met “Joey” in the late 90’s. We traveled in the same social circles in Canton. A few years later I’d often be his sidekick companion on Tuesday evenings at the old Cosmopolitan’s on the Square, enjoying the hospitality of another friend, Mike Celano, who manned the bar that we saddled up to.
Conversations usually revolved around sports and that really became the canvas upon which the pictures of each gathering were painted. Joey was passionate about sports, especially the Yankees and the Ravens. We’d often get into debates about his favorite pinstripes but attempts to get this Baltimore native to budge and support the Orioles instead, made a snowball’s chance in hell feel like a favorite.
But we did have the Ravens in common.
Joey would often ask about an article I’d written on what was then Ravens 247, and more times than not, he’d agree on the opinions I presented. Of course, many of those opinions were already discussed on Tuesday nights with Mike. Those barstools became a think-tank for article topics. Once, while we gathered at Cosmos, a local celebrity showed up – Kyle Boller. I suppose it’s ok to share this story now – the statute of limitations has likely passed.
Kyle, let’s say, had been over-served and I believe he even came in “hot”. He was sitting on a stool beside the poker machine and reached towards it, we assume, to lean on. But the machine was beyond Kyle’s reach and we heard a clatter. Boller missed the machine and was face down on the floor. We all looked at each other and said, “there’s our quarterback”.
One Sunday a few of us gathered at Cosmos to take in a game together. We even tuned into the NFL on CBS pregame show, during which the excitable Shannon Sharpe couldn’t control his emotions and his thoughts out-paced his speech to the point that he was babbling. That Monday, I put together a simulated, fictional rendition of the pregame show that we all laughed about for some time. In fact, when I’d later bump into Joey, he’d sport this big Cheshire cat grin that quickly grew to a laugh as we reminisced about my spoof.
During that same football Sunday at Cosmo’s, which was a restaurant in the Liberatore’s family, another of our friends Darren Petty, went outside to make a call. What we found out later, was that Darren had called Cosmo’s from outside the bar and pretended to be John Liberatore. Wendy, the bartender, answered the phone and believed it to be John. Pretending to be John, Darren told her to comp the entire check for the five of us – and she did! Later Wendy was the recipient of a very handsome tip.
When Cosmo’s closed, Joey and I would see each other on occasion at The Manhattan Grill, owned in part by his nephew, David Kidd. But to say that was all their relationship was, would be a severe understatement. David and Joey were more like close brothers, the best of friends. Joey had his special spot at the Grill. He would set up camp at the far end of the bar next to the poker machine. Kyle Boller was long gone from Baltimore so there was no threat of a repeat faceplant.
Every. Single. Time. Joey would greet you with that grin. He was an intense listener who was genuinely interested in what you had to say. He hung on your words as if to analyze the purpose of each syllable. He was a worthy confidante. He laughed from his belly. He debated with passion. And he loved with his whole heart.
Yesterday, today and I’m sure for many days to come, what he meant to others will be plastered all over Facebook. He touched many lives and the things that have been shared have a consistent theme. He was a great guy and each life that he touched was better because of it.
I haven’t spent much time with Joey since the Manhattan Grill closed in 2013. But during those times when we did see each other, it was just like one of those Tuesdays at Cosmo’s. That’s the beauty of friendship. The best ones are those that don’t diminish over time and space. But as I sit here today, I regret not trying to make my way to Barracuda’s in Locust Point which became his favorite watering hole owned by another friend, Billy Hughes.
Joey was taken from us all during the night, following the Super Bowl. He spent that evening at Barracuda’s with friends and family, like so many others before. And while his passing at the age of 62 came far too soon, I would bet that if he could draw up a plan to move on peacefully beside the Lord, it probably wouldn’t veer too far from the way it played out, despite being 25 or so years premature.
My heart breaks for his wife, the lovely Lucia who is an angel among us, a caring friend with a kind soul and a loving heart. She is the best of us all. I will pray that her love, her memories and her blessings allow her to be as vibrant as she always has been. To spend her golden years without her Joey wasn’t the plan. But it was God’s, and now it’s up to the rest of us to give this huge loss greater meaning – to ask ourselves how we can leave our mark upon the world and define our legacy, just as Joey did.
So my friend, out there on the other side, I pray that you experience the peaceful bliss that was promised; that you can somehow send good vibes and fortune upon our Ravens; and that you’ve finally become an Orioles fan. I mean, aren’t 27 World Series titles enough?
You will be missed Joey Sperato, but never forgotten.
