Playing for J.J.

Gloucester running back learned much from his protege

John Nicastro, right, father of J.J. Nicastro, who died in July of a heart disease while awaiting a transplant, is seen with Gloucester running back Andrew Fulford. (Globe Photo / Robert Spencer)

After J.J. Nicastro's July 16 funeral Mass, Andrew Fulford visited John Nicastro, J.J.'s father, who also had become Fulford's friend. He shed tears. He offered condolences. Then he offered the most important thing he had: his jersey.

He offered to have his No. 23 hockey jersey buried with J.J. He gave John his No. 33 football jersey and asked John permission to wear J.J's favorite number, 21, for the upcoming season.

"I just wanted to have him play through me since he never got a chance to play [under the] Friday night lights," Fulford said.

Gloucester is a perfect 10-0 this season, champions of the Northeastern Conference Large School Division. A win today against Danvers would polish off an undefeated regular season dedicated to Nicastro.

"We just learned not to take anything for granted," Fulford said. "Every week, week in week out, we put in the hard work because we're all dedicating this to J.J. and his family. So it's all helping us - never take a week off and never take an opponent for granted."

It was after the crowd of about 1,600 at St. Ann Catholic Church slowly dispersed and 12-year-old J.J. was laid to rest that Fulford, Gloucester's star running back, thought about it all.

For three weeks, J.J. had battled a virus that attacked his heart while waiting for a transplant that never came. For the first few days, Fulford hadn't realized the kid in the hospital was the same one who came to Gloucester football games just to see No. 33. The kid who went to hockey games at the Tank with his father, pointed at No. 23, and said, "He's tough."

And to hear that what ailed the young boy was something others said they had in common - their incredible hearts - was just crushing.

"I didn't know what to do," Fulford said. "The first few days after he passed away were just really tough, and I was just sitting around thinking of ways I could help honor his family. All the stuff they've done for me, I just wanted to give back."

Fulford donned No. 21. The players wear "J.J." magnets on their helmets, and Fulford has the date of his death - 7/12/07 - sewn on his cleats. They'll make a run for the Division 2 Super Bowl next week, and Fulford feels like they're not doing it for J.J. as much as they're doing it through him.

Fulford has run for 1,056 yards and 24 touchdowns this season, and now holds the school's all-time touchdown record with 46 going into today's game (the old record was 37). It's a mark he said J.J. would have broken if he got a chance.

"He probably would have been one of the best athletes ever at this school," Fulford said. "You can just tell when a kid has special gifts."

John Nicastro still remembers one night two winters ago. J.J. didn't sleep a wink, he was so anxious.

All he could think about was hockey practice the next day. Only 11 at the time, J.J. already was playing four sports, but he loved hockey. John was an athlete, but he wasn't much of a hockey player. So he asked Fulford to come to his house, pick up J.J., and work with him.

Fulford didn't hesitate. "What time?" he said.

"Noon," John answered.

J.J. counted down every second. "I couldn't count how many times he asked me when Andrew was coming over," John said. "I think he asked me every 10 minutes until noon."

John sees it as much now as he did then, that J.J. and Andrew were so similar. Size. Heart. Ability. Potential. The two of them quickly developed a bond, and John saw the influence Fulford could have on his son.

One day, John took J.J. to the Tank - Gloucester's Talbot Memorial Rink - to see Fulford play. During the game, Fulford was whistled for a penalty, but when he sat in the box, he slammed his stick on the glass.

J.J. asked his dad, "Why'd he slam his stick?"

"He's frustrated," John told him. "He got a penalty and he might not have thought it was a penalty."

J.J. didn't say anything else. The next day, John saw Fulford and told him: "You slammed your stick in the box. That's how you hurt your team. And you're not his favorite player anymore."

It was a white lie. J.J. still adored Fulford. But it was enough to get Fulford's attention.

"Watch me on the ice," Fulford told John. "I won't do it again."

At that point, John said, it was hard to tell who was teaching whom.

"As much as Andrew taught J.J.," John said, "I think J.J. taught Andrew. J.J. taught Andrew to be a role model because he looked up to him. I think Andrew would always strive to be better. Not personally and not for family, but I think for J.J."

Before the football season started, John Nicastro wanted Gloucester's co-captains to see something.

He rounded up the four of them in August during training camp. Adam Quinn, Mario Peritore, Cameron Marston, and Andrew Fulford.

He took them to Cavalry Cemetery, where J.J. is buried.

"I wanted to bring them to where I have to go every so often to visit my son," John said. "I wanted them to see that it was real. What me and his mom deal with, day in, day out, it's real."

Since her son died, J.J.'s mother, Tammy Silveira, keeps her house, goes to work, and leans on her faith for comfort.

She and John are no longer together, and she and J.J.'s stepfather, Gene, take care of J.J.'s brother, 5-year-old Evan.

She does not go to games.

She knows Andrew Fulford. She knows what he meant to J.J. She knows how much they were alike.

"His fire," she said. "J.J. and Andrew have a similar motivation, deep love for the sport. It's obvious in how they play. The similarities really gave them that bond."

She has not seen Fulford play.

Seeing him in No. 21 reminds her too much of seeing her son in No. 21.

She said she would go to the Thanksgiving Day game for J.J.'s Pee Wee team, and maybe she'll be at the high school for today's game. But it takes a toll.

"Those games are definitely difficult for me to attend because my goal was thinking my son would be there someday," she said. "Shining as always."

John ran through the same emotions. He sat in the hospital for three weeks, feeling helpless. After the funeral, he would have flashbacks.

Like Tammy, he thought it would be impossible to go to another game. John keeps J.J.'s room intact. It's his memorial. "I say my prayers in there every morning," he said.

Every fall weekend, he has pulled on Fulford's No. 33 jersey over his long-sleeved shirt. It's a tight fit, but he wear it with pride. At the end of the season, he said, he'll put the jersey in J.J.'s room, where it belonged.

"It means a lot to me," John said. "There are certain people that step up to the plate for you that you'll never forget, that you'll bend over backward for. Andrew's one of those people."

When John first asked Fulford to see J.J. two winters ago, he said he considered Fulford as kind of a little brother. "I'll call him up on a whim on a Thursday night or a Friday night, and if he doesn't answer the phone I'll leave him a message," John said.

Fulford expects the call before every game. The bond he once shared with J.J. now lives through his relationship with John.

"We've been really good for each other," Fulford said. "We've helped each other out a lot. He's certainly helped me get through this, and I hope I helped him get through this, too."

Julian Benbow can be reached at jbenbow@globe.com.