*UPDATED VIEWING TIME AND PROCEDURE DUE TO NEW JERSEY MANDATES

• Please be aware that there will only be 50 people allowed in the funeral home at one time.  This may lead to extended waiting time outside.
• All family and friends will be able to pay their respects until 8:00 pm.

Peter F. Carrera, on March 11, 2020, of Mantua, NJ. Age 65. Son of the late Albert L. and Rose Carrera.  Beloved husband of 44 years to Mary L. (nee Reddy). Proud father of Eric A. Carrera.  Survived by his feline companion Mr. Moo Moo.  Dear brother of Dominic Carrera (Lori) and the late Robert Lucchese.  Nephew of the late Peter Lucchese. Loving stepson of Alvaretta Carrera.  Cherished son-in-law of the late Anna M Reddy. Devoted brother-in-law of Dianne Fisher (Bill), Lorraine Morrison (Michael), Kathy Reddy, Dan Reddy, Al Gerber and the late Patricia Gerber.  He is also survived by his cherished niece Kayleigh Anne Reddy and many more loving nieces and nephews.

Pete grew up in Haddon Heights, NJ and attended St. Rose of Lima School. He later attended Gloucester Catholic High School Class of 1972 where he met Mary, his high school sweetheart. He was the point guard on two NJ State Championship Basketball teams.   Pete later went on to be a successful self-employed caterer in South Jersey for many years. However, what he did best and was most passionate about was helping young high school, college and Professional basketball players excel in the game he loved so much. He developed lifetime friendships and extended family with these young stars.

Family and friends are invited to attend his viewing Monday 6:30 – 9:00 pm and Tuesday 10:00 – 11:00 am, at the Egizi Funeral Home, 119 Ganttown Road, Washington Twp.  Funeral Service Tuesday 11:00 am at the funeral home.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Peter’s memory to the Gloucester County Animal Shelter, 1200 N. Delsea Drive, Clayton, NJ 08312 or the Gloucester Catholic Ram Fund, c/o Gus Ostrum, 333 Ridgeway Street, Gloucester City, NJ 08030.

“A Life Well Lived Is Worth Remembering”

I wrote this about a guy I’ll never forget, a man taken from this world far too soon: RIP Pete. 

We were roughly the same height and we played the same position on the basketball court in much the same way: focusing on defense and ball movement and making our foul shots like old-school point guards.

But I was no Pete Carrera.

He never let me know that, of course. That was one of his many gifts, his rare ability to convince others to believe in themselves.

I lacked his confidence, his assuredness, his big-game experience, his unshakeable faith in his ability to control things on the court. But he always tried to convince me otherwise.

“Philip, you’re better than I was,” he would tell me, even though I knew it wasn’t true. That was just Pete being Pete.

He would always add, in classic Pete fashion, “You know why you’re better? Because you have me as a coach. And I’m the best bleeping coach there is.”

He was always around in an unofficial capacity during my freshman and sophomore years in high school, always encouraging me and critiquing my play in the most positive way. I always wanted to make him proud, and to have people say, “You remind me a little of Pete Carrera.”

But he was there every day when I was a junior, serving as Gloucester Catholic head coach Putt Powers’ top assistant. That was a dream season for most of us, and it was nirvana for me: To work with him on a daily basis, to have him show me different moves, to discuss strategy, to feel some (just some) of his swagger swell inside me, to hear his voice above the din during games.

Even to talk about The Rolling Stones (or Elvis; Pete loved the King) when we weren’t talking basketball.

Many people will remember the late, great Pete Carrera the player, the peerless lead guard on the last two state championship teams in Gloucester Catholic boys’ basketball history. He was so quick, so smart, so skilled, so tough.

But I was one of the lucky ones: I got to know him as a coach, a mentor, a friend, a guy who grasped basketball so well but understood people even better.

Especially skinny little guys.

If there’s a heaven, Pete’s in a gym up there now, strutting around the court and showing somebody that inside step move. His language will have St. Peter sticking his fingers in his ears and humming a hymn.

But Pete also will be convincing somebody up there they’re better than they think they are, building their confidence, massaging their ego, bringing out their best.

That was Pete, the prototypical point guard, specializing in assists.