蘑菇视频

Feb 3, 2017 By Bill Hughes for The Hearald-Standard 3 min read

When I received word last Thursday that Nello Tineri died, my mind instantly went back to my childhood.

I have literally known Mr. Tineri my entire life, and even though he lived in Florida for a while, he often crossed my mind every football season.

You see, Mr. Tineri bled Monessen black and white in his veins, and he was one of those super fans that seem to be disappearing as time goes on.

Every community has their core group of fans, or diehard fans as some see them.

When it comes to Mr. Tineri and his passion for Monessen sports, I would put him up there with the most supportive Steeler fans and their craving of all things black and gold.

My earliest recollections of Mr. Tineri are based off of my weekends as a young kid in Monessen.

As a youngster, I would go to Monessen football games with my dad, but we would not be in the stands.

We would be on the field as my dad was a freelance photographer for most of my childhood.

While I would never go in between the 30-yard lines, my dad told me that area was for players and coaches only, I could often hear two voices constantly getting on officials.

One was of head coach Jack Scarvel, a man I would later play for before transferring to Belle Vernon Area.

But the second voice, and the louder voice, was often from the shortest man on the sidelines.

The gentleman wasn鈥檛 even a coach.

This individual that was louder than Coach Scarvel was holding the first down chains, and it was a job that he took seriously for 30 or so years.

The man was Mr. Tineri.

He may have been on the 鈥渃hain gang,鈥� but Mr. Tineri gave it to the officials as if they had never made one right call.

Mr. Tineri wasn鈥檛 doing it to be mean, he was just that ardent of a Monessen Greyhound supporter.

If the officiating crew called 10 penalties in a game and only one went against Monessen, Mr. Tineri was giving the crew a verbal lashing over than one call.

Even if a Monessen player was offside and in the backfield before the ball was snapped, the official made a bad call and Mr. Tineri let him know!

Those were Friday nights.

But on each Sunday, Mr. Tineri would never miss church and was there dressed to the nines.

I often wondered how a man who was dressed so sharp and was so strong in his faith could be so loud towards others on Friday nights.

I say that lovingly, and I saw Mr. Tineri as recent as a few weeks ago at church.

We didn鈥檛 get to speak, and I heard just recently that his health took a turn for the worse.

While most other fan bases never got to know Mr. Tineri, he truly was the epitome of a diehard.

And it wasn鈥檛 just for football.

If Monessen had a high school sports team, Mr. Tineri was a supporter in one way or another.

Monessen has lost one of its biggest fans, and there is no doubt in my mind that when his heart stopped beating, that last beat had black and white blood.

He will now have the best seat in the house at every Monessen sporting event, and I guarantee somehow that the officials will continue to hear him.