CEO Morehouse brings Cup back to his roots for 3rd time

Monday morning, sharing it with the people and place that has shaped him the most.

The addition of lights — more on this shortly — was one of several tales recounted by Morehouse and his friends, who turned out in droves on a beautiful Labor Day morning.

In fact, Pauline Park was so jammed that Morehouse wound up walking the Cup backward through the line simply so everyone could get some time and a picture with it.

“Really amazing turnout,” Joe Borik, 56, said.

Pauline Park provided the backdrop for Morehouse’s childhood, his own personal sandlot along with a few dozen of his childhood friends.

Every day, Morehouse and others explained, they’d meet at Pauline Park around 11 a.m. or noon. They’d return home for dinner and a shower, then occasionally reconvene at night.

“Nobody called each other,” Tom Frank, 57, said. “When you weren’t home, you were here.”

And Morehouse was at Pauline Park a lot. Pretty much every waking hour after his parents divorced when he was 7.

“I spent more time here than at any other place growing up, including the eight hours in my house at night sleeping,” Morehouse said. “This shaped me into who I am today, good or bad.”

The stories of what this group used to do around Pauline Park are both hilarious and plentiful.

“I dislocated my elbow over there,” Morehouse said, pointing to one particular corner, then later recalling the ambulance trip and how his elbow was dangling from his arm.

The park is cement, but hockey was often played on ice — the group squirted water from the house next door. Only they wouldn’t skate. There wasn’t that much ice. They only squirted water so the puck would glide better. So, they’d run while doing this, the hell with bodily harm.

The same went for the fence that bisected the group’s whiffle ball infield, the one that was in play, where the center fielder may or may not run into it while trying to snare a blooper.

“Just played right around it,” Frank said, smiling.

Those memories — of gathering bottles for two pennies a pop to buy drinks, of goalies strapping porch swing cushions to their legs, of walking to Moore Park in Brookline, hockey sticks on shoulders, to take on a neighboring team — are why Morehouse has made a habit of bringing the Cup here.

It’s also why this place was overrun with overgrown kids still smiling about that time.

“It’s great for the community,” Jeff Straka, 56, said. “It’s the second year in a row. It’s starting to become a ritual anymore. It’s nice he comes back. He doesn’t forget his roots. He’s a down-toearth guy. He’d do anything for anybody.”

Including breaking a few laws, apparently. Remember those lights? After the light towers were erected, Morehouse said he and his buddies cut the city’s lock off and installed their own, enabling them to turn the lights on whenever they wanted. It was one of several wonderful memories — some legal, some not — that Morehouse carries with him to this day.

“We’ve all remained friends,” said Morehouse, who every year plays host to his childhood buddies a couple times at PPG Paints Arena. “It keeps me centered.

“We all stay in touch. It’s how I grew up, and I’ll never forget where I came from.”