The dirt and stones piled high on the four ball fields, hidden a mile or so past the tiny stretch of downtown, represent hope and chaos at the same time.

Something hopeful is going on, the biggest nonprofit project that Pittsfield has ever seen. By next summer, the hope is, the town's youth could be playing on three renovated fields and one new one. New diamonds, new grass, new dirt. They could be playing on softball and baseball fields that don't hold water like a bathtub with a closed drain.

But the fields are a mess, chaotic in appearance, because of Mother Nature's recent downpours and, sadly, human nature, too. The fighting behind the scenes, the yelling at meetings, the struggle over power, the politics

and egos involved, all have conspired to threaten opening day next year.

Not even the attorney general's office could mediate a peace treaty between the warring factions.

Add a sour economy, and this blue-collar town is in danger of losing something that was supposed to bolster its fragile self-esteem.

The battle lines are clear. The problems are not. In one corner, there's Larry Berkson, a master at multitasking and conquering huge challenges.

He's 67, retired and fed up. He worked in Chicago for years, writing grants and fundraising before moving to Pittsfield more than 20 years ago. He is the heart of this effort, pumping his own money and time into a vision that began when his son died suddenly three years ago.

He wanted to build a new Babe Ruth baseball field. He wanted to honor Quintin Berkson.

"I'm retired and I can do this sort of thing," Berkson said. "And that town needs tremendous help. It's one of the poorest towns in the state. When I'm committed to do something, I do it. I want to carry it to the end."

In the other corner, we've got the Pittsfield Youth Baseball Association, once a close ally of Berkson. The baseball association, though, became increasingly worried over Berkson's power, over his freedom to write checks, something Berkson eventually blocked the association from doing.

"The problem was we had to take over the money part," said Penny Taylor, a leading voice in the baseball association. "It's up to the board to take care of the bills. That's where the problem came."

Taylor also says Berkson resigned, and that's why he's no longer part of the project. Berkson? He claims he was fired.

Tragedy, then a vision

Berkson and his wife, Susan Carbon, a family court judge, are important in town. They're visible, they're successful, and they're involved.

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