Too Early to Worry
It's the season. Time to make certain my Red Sox decal is carefully placed on my car. Time to remember that it's a long season and I shouldn't be worrying--yet. Time to wonder if we made a mistake getting rid of last year's catcher.
It's the season when my desire to see the Yankees flounder comes to the fore. Yet, I grew up several subway stops away from Yankee Stadium. I sat in the bleachers, ate pink cotton candy, Hygrades all-beef hot dogs, and drank cola.
I listened to my father's retelling of Jackie Robinson's exploits and of how the Dodgers won the 1955 World Series.
Even when my father was ill we still talked about baseball. " Did you know," he said, "that the 1955 World Series was the best."
We spoke about the Red Sox. " Someday," he said, " they'll win one."
It's the season when my desire to see the Yankees flounder comes to the fore. Yet, I grew up several subway stops away from Yankee Stadium. I sat in the bleachers, ate pink cotton candy, Hygrades all-beef hot dogs, and drank cola.
I listened to my father's retelling of Jackie Robinson's exploits and of how the Dodgers won the 1955 World Series.
Even when my father was ill we still talked about baseball. " Did you know," he said, "that the 1955 World Series was the best."
We spoke about the Red Sox. " Someday," he said, " they'll win one."
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