J.P. Pelzman (right) surveys landscape in Madison Square Garden press room during Big East tournament. Pelzman, a longtime Seton Hall beat writer, passed away this week at age 57. (Photo by Jerry Carino/Gannett New Jersey)
Far too many times, we are dealt one sobering reminder after another that life is truly a blessing, and therefore, each moment should be celebrated to the fullest extent possible, for the prospect of tomorrow is never guaranteed.
Thursday afternoon served as yet another haunting caveat to such an uncertainty, coming to this writer in the form of a call from Peter Long, the men’s basketball media contact at Seton Hall, a program that has been central to this site’s brand and operation for most of the past decade. The message was one that is still difficult to process, and — given the subject — will be for quite some time.
It was at that moment that I learned J.P. Pelzman, longtime Pirate beat writer for the Bergen Record, where he also covered the New York Jets for many years after his tenure at Newsday (or “Snoozeday,” as he would jokingly refer to the Long Island periodical, one of his many memorable quips), had passed away earlier this week, leaving us at the way-too-early age of 57 but leaving behind a legacy and collection of memories that will be truly irreplaceable.
Anyone who covered Seton Hall, even just once, never forgot J.P. after meeting him. He would be the first person you would see upon checking into the Prudential Center press room, setting up shop at the first desk along the left side wall, usually with a plate of chicken fingers and french fries to keep him company. Sometimes irreverent, and ever the jokester — his impressions of fellow colleague Roger Rubin and more famously, Mike Francesa, would always be well-received in whatever workspace we shared — J.P.’s deft ability to straddle the line between levity and professionalism was unmatched by all of us, but always aspired to. When I started making more treks into Newark after expanding the scope of the site’s coverage, he welcomed me into the Pirate media family that still remains the favorite media circle to which I belong. Many a night came and went over the years where J.P., Jerry Carino, Brendan Prunty, Zach Braziller, John Fanta, Adam Zagoria, Jeremy Schneider, Jim Hague, Josh Adams, Jason Guerette and myself would go off on some tangent about another game, something else that may have occurred in the industry, or just a random musing after filing our postgame dispatches, and we would stretch the reverie late into the night before shutting the arena down. Those nights were not just an indoctrination into the life of a journalist, but now, memories that will be held a little closer for all eternity.
But behind what a stranger might perceive as a gruff exterior, and the endless Francesa jokes and Rex Ryan riffs, was an outsized heart to match the vast reaches of his gregarious personality. J.P. would never hesitate to assist anyone in any way, be it offering unsolicited yet always appreciated tips on how to improve in the business or different angles from which to approach a story, or simply complimenting you for the work you did yourself.
After his mother had passed away several years ago, J.P. and I became closer, as we had more in common beyond the hardwood than either of us initially realized, having both come from broken homes and been raised primarily by single mothers. Through that tragedy, his being a victim of downsizing and penny pinching by Gannett, recurring health scares, and the pandemic, I made it a point to check in with him whenever possible, and looking back, I was glad I did. It’s a shame that the last two years cheated everyone in the media out of experiencing J.P.’s genius and professionalism, because his absence left a void among us that can never be adequately filled.
Just last month, I had the honor of inviting him onto the Daly Dose Of Hoops podcast and instantly returned the favor when he interviewed me in a longform feature on Rivals.com that now stands among his final bylines. On both occasions, we spoke of the crossroads I came to in the middle of last season before the NCAA Tournament revitalized me and helped me realize I still had more to offer, and hearing him say that the New York/New Jersey college basketball landscape would be better off for having this site among it was an endorsement that meant more than he may have realized. But that was J.P. Pelzman in a nutshell. He made a far greater impact on every life he affected, but to him, it was just standard practice, a way of life.
As I mentioned earlier, writing these words and eulogizing J.P. evokes a state of shock that will not soon dissipate. I think, though, that he would appreciate the outpouring of kind words and fond recollections from his friends and colleagues as opposed to being recalled the way Mike Francesa acknowledged Tim Russert, Horace Clarke, Frank Robinson and Stan Lee in their final hours. You’re finally at peace now, my friend, and I hope you had a good week of practice and things, let me tell you. But I have one more question before I let you go:
Do you think J.P. Pelzman and Jason Pierre-Paul would ever have lunch sometime, kind of like a JPP get-together?
I’ll hang up and listen.
