Lombardo truly a Legend
By JEFF OLIVER
MVI Sports
During his high school football career at Monessen, few people stood out like Anthony J. Lombardo.
He played for the Greyhounds in the mid-70s and even though Coach Joe Gladys produced several Division I players while he was on the team, it was Anthony who people couldn’t help but notice.
That’s because he was undoubtedly the biggest player on the field.
A defensive tackle, Lombardo was about 6-1 or 6-2 and weighed every bit of 330-340 pounds. Big No. 76.
He was playfully called “Shamu” by friends and family, alike. It was a nickname the wildly outgoing Lombardo held dear.
His mom, had it plastered on a sign with his number and she would wave it at games.
During his life, he had several nicknames he was proud of, with “Legend” and “Lumpy” as popular as “Shamu.”
I grew up with Anthony and we were dear friends for at least 50 years. When I heard of his passing Sunday, I wasn’t surprised. But I was still crestfallen.
He died at the age of 62 from a variety of ailments, partly because of that size and also the exuberant way he lived.
Not many people jumped head first into life like Anthony.
There is little doubt of all the athletes I got to know in over 40 years of writing sports, few were as colorful as Anthony.
He had a zest for life that he always did exactly what he wanted to do, regardless of the cost. Even though he left this earth early, you can bet Anthony didn’t get cheated out of one thing as long as he was healthy enough to do it. He didn’t believe in idle time.
I never knew a person who would be up for a drive to Detroit, Cleveland, Philadelphia or somewhere else out of state. I mean, he’d offer to drive at the drop of a hat.
He later owned a loaded motor-home his family used hundreds of times.
Anthony was one of the most devout gamblers I ever knew. He’d bet on anything. He loved playing cards, going to Las Vegas, attending the Indianapolis 500 and any type of betting action.
He was willing to make bets for $2,500 and was willing to bet a nickel. It wasn’t the amount with Anthony, but the thrill of the action.
About 40 years ago, he was the owner of Orbit Pizza and Arcade, a popular pizza joint and pool hall in Monessen. The shop had four pool tables and he once bet a friend $100 that the friend could not carry me on his back three times around the tables. And I wasn’t a little guy.
Anthony lost that bet, but he won more than he lost.
If he was playing an arcade game, he was willing to bet how long his “life” on the screen would last. You get the picture.
He was quick and colorful with his wit. To this day, I use several of his phrases.
I don’t know if he created them, but he was the first one I ever heard say them. About one-sided people he used to say, “They name streets after him … one way.” About cheap people, he’d say, “He will give you two hot dogs for a ham any day.”
When he would beat you in a card game or win a debate, he’d often proclaim, “Who you think you’re playing? The chair?” Or he’d exclaim, “What’s my name!”
He was ornery as he was large, yet I don’t recall anyone who didn’t like him. You just couldn’t.
He’d make a funny crack about you in one instance and then offer that same person a job at the pool hall.
The last time I talked to him was a couple months ago on the phone. I knew he wasn’t doing well. Yet we laughed and laughed over old times and he said he hoped we could get together for another poker game. I would have loved one last game with him. Those of you who knew him over the years know what I’m talking about.
His upbeat, goofy, effervescent personality is a treasure gone forever. He was bigger than life.
Anthony did have one saying that would upset me sometimes.
If he said something to me that I didn’t hear, I’d ask what he said and his response was always, “I said how ya been?” That could really get under my skin.
Funny thing is, I’d even love to hear him say that to me again.
I don’t know if there are casinos in Heaven, but if there are you’ll be the newest “Legend.”
This column will run in its entirety in Tuesday’s print edition of the Mon Valley Independent.
