Some families watch football on Monday night. Others bake meatloaf. But Robert (Coo) Cavallo’s?

They played softball.

Ron (Puppy) Cavallo on the mound - Coo's brother and an ace pitcher. — Mark Alan Lovewell

“The Monday night game was very significant in our lives,” said Donna Goodale Cavallo, Coo’s wife. “It was something you always looked forward to at the end of the day, and it was such a great thing to do, for everyone involved. I loved it.”

Mr. Cavallo died on New Year’s day at the age of 65. On Monday, friends and family gathered at the Edgartown School to resurrect the softball game that was always near to his heart.

“He loved this game,” said his brother, and pitching ace Ronald (Puppy) Cavallo. “And he was a big Yankees fan. That’s why everyone is in Yankees jerseys.”

“Most of these guys wouldn’t be caught dead in them otherwise,” added George Gamble, the right-fielder who worked for Coo when he was younger.

Coo’s friends and family sold the jerseys, with a commemorative Coo patch above the Yankees “NY,” to raise money for Coo’s favorite cause: the Martha’s Vineyard Ice Arena.

There was at least one Yankee fan playing. Charlie Morano said that the two probably went to more Yankees games together than anyone. Even though Coo was from Queens and Morano from the Bronx, the pair bonded over a mutual love for the bombers in pinstripes, and a mutual hatred for 1 a.m. bus trips back to Massachusetts.

Charlie Morano and Coo shared a love of the Yankees and made many journeys to New York to see them play. — Mark Alan Lovewell

A Coo jersey hung from the field’s backstop on Monday, reminding everyone what brought them together.

“I’m wearing this to the next Yankee game I go to,” said Mr. Morano, tugging at the Coo patch on his heart.

Mr. Gamble said the game began in the summer of 1979 and continued until the late nineties. Eventually, most of the players had kids, and then they had kids, and the game became a multi-generational affair.

“That’s what it was,” Donna said, “inclusive.”

“Anyone over 60 is an original,” said Puppy.

“It’s good the ball is iridescent,” added a friend of Donna’s. “Otherwise these guys wouldn’t be able to see it!”

Ken Goldberg at bat. — Mark Alan Lovewell

By the mid-2000s, the game had fizzled out, and most players agreed that it had been almost a decade since they had gotten together to play. That didn’t mean the memories, or the skills, had faded. Amidst the tales of Peter Simon’s barefoot up-Island boys, to the mysterious box of softballs Coo once found on his doorstep, the afternoon was a celebration of what Coo meant to his Island community, and, occasionally, some good softball too.

“I was 4-4, in case anyone was asking,” said Puppy.

“Must be the fielding!” replied Coo’s son and shortstop, Amos.

Ms. Goodale Cavallo wants to make the game an annual event. Everyone else was in agreement. After about three “final innings,” and a group desire to get the grill going, a player jogging in from the outfield finally asked if this was truly the last ups. It seemed as though Coo himself compelled everyone to reply in unison.

“Let’s play one more.”