Colonie
Mariano Rivera played soccer in the backyard with Peter Rokeach's two sons, David, 6, and Jason, 8, goofing around like an overgrown kid without a care in the world after a long-ago Sunday afternoon baseball game in June.
They were truly boys of summer.
Andy Pettitte's pregnant wife, Laura, talked in the kitchen with Rokeach's wife, Anne, and the girlfriends of other Albany-Colonie Yankees' baseball players during a cookout at Rokeach's home.
A tall, skinny shortstop prospect with a flat-top haircut, blazing speed, tremendous range and uncommon poise had arrived at Heritage Park the previous week.
He knew his place in the hierarchy of a minor-league ball club and he sat quietly at the end of a picnic table in the screened-in back porch off Watervliet Shaker Road. He ate a second helping of Anne Rokeach's spicy chicken wings, the players' favorite, and said little.
His name was Derek Jeter and it was June 26, 1994, which happened to be his 20th birthday.
Dubbed "The Kid," Jeter was just 19 and a former first-round pick when he arrived at the Double A ball club in its fading, final season in Colonie. Its idiosyncratic ballpark, Heritage Park, was wedged between a Shaker cemetery where Mother Ann Lee and hundreds of Shakers were buried and the flight path of what was then the Albany County Airport.
The Rokeach family threw Jeter — who turns 40 in three weeks, a future Hall of Famer playing his 20th and final season as one of the most celebrated Yankees in history — a low-key, backyard barbecue.
Team veteran and designated raconteur Lyle Mouton, who went on to a major league career as a journeyman outfielder with the White Sox, Orioles and other teams, dominated the conversation at the gathering.
Jeter and the other young players let Mouton finish his stories before they chimed in.
Rokeach, an organizer of the minor-league team's booster club and an ardent Yankees fan, wished Jeter a happy birthday out of earshot of the others.
The unassuming rookie gave the host a pleading look that made it clear he wanted to keep that information under the radar.
"I don't think the other guys realized it was Derek's birthday because nobody said anything about it," Rokeach recalled. "In public, Derek was very mature for his age and he put this wall up."
According to local lore, Jeter's first words when he walked into the locker room for the A-C Yankees were filled with a bravado the fans never saw, a sassy pronouncement that turned out to be prophetic: "OK, guys, I'm here. Your worries are over."
Rokeach witnessed Jeter once in the locker room at Heritage Park, where he was loose and talkative with his teammates, the flip side of his reserved public persona.
This was long before the Yankees captain and fan favorite was the toast of New York who dated a string of celebrity girlfriends including actresses Jessica Alba, Jessica Biel and Minka Kelly, model Tyra Banks and singer Mariah Carey.
Even in the minors, Jeter seemed to have an eye on legacy and burnishing a gleaming image. When other players went to local bars after games, Jeter stayed away and returned to an uninviting one-bedroom, second-floor apartment in the Pastures neighborhood of the city's South End. He shared it with Matt Luke, an outfielder and first baseman who played with five different teams in his major league career.
The apartment lacked air-conditioning and Jeter and Luke had trouble sleeping in the summer swelter. Rokeach and his wife came to their rescue with a couple of large fans.
"They were just kids then. They made no money and they were treated pretty poorly," recalled Rokeach, a partner with Saratoga Financial Systems. He and his wife, a retired attorney, served as sort of surrogate parents, along with other club members in the group's lone year of operation. They called themselves Baby Bombers Boosters.
Rokeach bought an air mattress for the Pettittes so they could let their parents use the bed when they visited the young couple's modest one-bedroom apartment in Clifton Park.
Rokeach would like to freeze-frame those cookouts in the backyard of his suburban raised ranch, a short drive from the ballpark, a simpler time before fame and fortune caught up with these extraordinarily gifted athletes.
But he stayed true to his ground rule: No photographs and no requests for autographs while the players were at his house. Not even the nagging of his starstruck sons could budge Rokeach, so no photos of the parties exist.
"We wanted them to feel they had a safe haven here, without being hassled," Rokeach said.
Of course, the memories are stronger than any snapshot. "I was such an avid baseball fan that it was a second childhood for me that summer," Rokeach said, now 58 and a self-described baseball junkie.
Later, after they left town, Rivera, Pettitte and Jeter autographed baseballs and Jeter signed two bats for Rokeach, prized additions to his collection.
After one backyard party, the hosts caught Lew Hill, a paunchy outfielder who never made it above Triple A, stuffing Anne Rokeach's blonde brownies into his pockets, trying to avoid detection.
The players wolfed down the tasty treats and they became the team's secret weapon. Before road trips, she baked big batches and dropped them off at the team bus in the Heritage Park parking lot.
On Tuesday, 20 years after that magical summer, she made a fresh batch of blonde brownies.
They were morsels of memory. And they never tasted sweeter.
pgrondahl@timesunion.com • 518-454-5623 • @PaulGrondahl