The first sentence: "I hope the Yankees win the World Series."
I was born in 1951 in Brooklyn, and grew up there, leaving for college in 1968. I was a very passionate Dodgers fan, as was pretty much everyone else I knew. Several Dodger players lived in our neighborhood, including the great Gil Hodges, after whom my elementary school, formerly PS 193, is now named. The Dodgers in the '50s were easy to love: Hodges, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella, PeeWee Reese, Duke Snider . . . a fabulous squad that made the World Series four times in the 50's ('52, '53, '55, and '56), winning their first and only title, gloriously, in the thrilling 7-game 1955 Series versus the Yankees.
I was devastated when the Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn after the 1957 season. Though I was only six years old, I remember it vividly; it was the first time in my life that I understood that the world could be a cruel, cruel place. I swore never to forgive them for the betrayal, and I never have.
