I grew up in New York City in the 1950s. Back then, it seemed, the team you rooted for [I was a Giants fan] was more important than for whom you voted. If Sweet Jesus would have returned during the Fall Classic [and on we wait], he’d have been replaced in the headlines of the local tabloids by such equally well known luminaries as Whitey Ford and Sandy Amoros. Kids would bring their transistor radios to school and the teachers would ask the score. We’d watch, listen, read about and rehash every inning. Everybody cared.
Years have passed and I long ago joined the carpetbagging bastards [Giants and Bums] and migrated to California, where no one cares. Not like we cared back then.The games are on… Anybody catch a score?