I complain too much, and I know it.  Covid.  Dissension in the country.  Unemployment rising. Baseball may not start on time again.  I look in the mirror, and it is not quite what I would most like to see there – older, grayer, a bit of a paunch.

A friend of mine lives back East.  His dad was an inveterate Brooklyn Dodgers fan.  You know, the team named after folks dodging trolleys….  Who moved across the country after so many years there.  Up and left, and have never been replaced. In fact Ebbetts Field is long gone.

He has told me quite a few times his dad got depressed, stayed sad particularly during what would have been each season thereafter, never found a team to fill the void, and refused to root for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Refused, as a matter of principle, and cursed the O’Malleys, as well as the Borough guys who could have done more to keep them there… His dad had a whole litany of villains.

The photo that accompanies this brief note are of some of the great Brooklyn players who we cherish, who we miss, who are part of the lore. And, who came West.

I wonder if it is a bit like leaving home in search of a new place to claim your livelihood, to start anew…

Well, the next time I start whining I plan to tell myself: “Dude, imagine if you were a Brooklyn Dodgers fan… So shhhhh, get up and get back at it! Count your blessing lad, don’t ever forget it.”