THE DAY THE WORLD STOOD UPSIDE DOWN.

It was a Tuesday in early October of 1955. I was home from school for some reason, and the day I dreaded most: the seventh game of the World Series!

Every year that the Dodgers were in a World Series, they faced the hated Yankees. It didn’t help that my two best friends, Anthony and Michael were Yankee fans, and to have to lose to the Yankees was too much to bear.

I watched the pre-game interview that was conducted by Mel Allen of Jackie Robinson at Yankee Stadium. Jackie was a source of pride for Brooklyn. We were the good guys, we had the first black ballplayer, we kicked racism in its’ pants. We were the Brooklyn Dodgers! He would electrify the sport, and transform baseball into the most exciting past time for the poor working class of America.

The Dodgers were the hard working blue-collar steamfitter, carpenter or plumber, the guy that worked hard in a factory, the laborer. He yelled his head off and screamed at his Dodgers, hooting and hollering, he lived and died for his Dodgers. “DEM BUMS!”

Of course, there was the Yankee fan. White collar, felt hat and tie and jacket. He politely clapped for his Yankees. He was Wall Street. He was boring!

Dodger fans had Pee Wee, Skoonj, The Duke, Jackie, Junior and Mr. Hodges, not to mention Campy. The hated Yankees had, Mantle Skowren, Rizzuto and the closest to being a Dodger in nature, Yogi.

Johnny Podres started that game for Brooklyn, and we hung on every pitch. It was like Brooklyn, hanging on every paycheck. We held our breath as the young southpaw delivered pitch after pitch. We also learned to hold it in for nine innings.

The question was: what will go wrong? What will change our good fortune to misfortune?

In the top of the Fourth, we got a run, then in the sixth another! Could we dare to hold on? Could we withstand another Mickey Owens miscue? What would happen and when? We expected to have our hearts broken. We almost demanded that they break our hearts. Yet, strangely enough, we hoped to somehow prevail. Shhh! We were winning 2-0! Shhhh.

Then in the bottom of the sixth, Jim Gilliam moved from leftfield to second, and reserve outfielder, a Cuban import, Sandy Amoros replaced Gilliam in left. The hated Yankees came to bat. Billy Martin drew a leadoff walk and Gil McDougald bunted for a single moving the runner into scoring position. The bad Yankees were about to unhinge my Dodgers once again! Yogi Berra sliced a long drive just inside the left field foul pole but Sandy Amoros charged the line making a spectacular outstretched glove-hand catch, then followed with a picture perfect relay to Pee Wee - who went to Hodges - who caught McDougald at 1st, DOUBLE PLAY!

But it wasn’t over ‘till the fat lady sung, which she did loud and clear in the bottom of the ninth! WORLD CHAMPIONS! WE WON! WE WON! And it was the only time we ever won, the Yankees went right back to beating us one more time in 1956.

So, I live that past glory, every year at this time. Forever etched in my mind, and so I adopted the Boston Red Sox to taunt the NY Yankees in the American League, in place of my beloved Brooklyn Dodgers.

Amen.

Please remember my buddies Joan and Anita.