When I was in third grade, I was on a pathetically bad Little League baseball team in my hometown of Lexington. We were so bad, in fact, that our coach promised to take us all to Chadwick’s for an infamous “Belly Buster” if we ever won a game. Now Chadwick’s was an old-timey ice cream parlor/restaurant near the Waltham town line, and the “Belly Buster,” well, it was an 18-scoop (if my memory’s correct) behemoth of a sundae that, after some extremely loud drumming and dinging of a bell, was carried out to your table on a stretcher. The Brigham’s in Arlington Heights, which got seized by the …