The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

While we all know the Dodgers are now in LA and Seinfeld has a point that we're just rooting for laundry, there is still an echo of the Golden Era and a touch to baseball lore in this twelfth World Series meeting of the Yankees and Dodgers in 2024.

Jackie Robinson's Dodgers and Yogi Berra's Yankees met in the World Series six times from 1947-1956.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I was rooting for the Mets, but I gotta go for the Dodgers in the Series, both for history's sake and for Mookie's.

I often wonder how Joe and Sally will react thirteen years from now when the unthinkable becomes reality. Dr. Levine better clear her calendar. But the aftermath might go something like...

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"S'funny," muses Joe, standing on an Empire Boulevard sidewalk on a certain warm May afternoon in 1960. "I toin aroun' an' I look down'is way, an'nit'sa same's it awrways was. Ev'ryt'ing's like it awrways was an' prob'ly's awrways gonna be. But t'en," he adds, turning around to gain a clear view of the intersection of McKeever and Sullivan, "I toin aroun'again, an'..." "I know, Pa," sighs Leonora, shaking her head at the sight of the last remaining fragments of brick and steel. "I seen stuff like'at," nods Joe, "durin'a wawr. Y'd see t'ese buildin's awl blowed up an' ya'd neveh know what t'ey useta be. But," he continues, his voice hitching with emotion, "ain' no mistakin' what 'tat useta be." Leonora nods. "I neveh thought he'd go thru with it," she declares. "Awl a bluff, I thought." "So'd ya mot'eh," sighs Joe. "She neveh give up, right t't'las'. An'nen..." "Yeh," sighs Leonora. "I wish she'da come with us t'day. There won't be nothin' left t'morra but a empty hole." "You hoid what she said," shrugs Joe. "She's neveh gonna come past heeh again. "S'fawr's she's consoined, t'eh'r awna laaaawng road trip, an' Ebbets Feel is awrways gonna be t'eh wait'n f'rm t'come back." "That's not healthy, though," observes Leonora. "In my psychology class, we..." "Ya ma ain' got oveh Coscarawrt bein' traded," notes Joe. "Y't'ink she's gonna get oveh t'is?" Leonora nods in sad agreement. "You was awrmos' bawrn inneh," Joe sighs. "I know," replies Leonora. "You awlways say that." There is a pause in the conversation as a wrecking ball swings into the last remaining bit of the rotunda, collapsing bricks and mortar into a scattered heap, as with an angry groan the last rusty framework topples. "T'at's it," observes Joe. "It's awl gone." "Let's get outa heeh, Pa," says Leonora, taking her father's arm as they turn toward Rogers Avenue. "Thezz nothin' more t'see..."