Dick Sisler, 1951: One moment of unalloyed happiness.

My newest piece is up at The Broad Street Review:  Here's the link:

http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/main/article/my_ball_team_my_sister

And here're the opening paragraphs:

My father and two of my uncles sat at the breakfast room table, the radio between them. I lay on the floor, rigid with tension, the linoleum cold as clay under my back. When Dick Sisler homered, I was so happy.

I was a boy who devoured Sport and the backs of baseball cards and the books on baseball my mother brought from the library when I was ill. I knew ERAs and RBIs. I knew most-of this and longest-consecutive that. I knew who the Sultan of Swat was and the Rajah and the Chief and Dizzy and Dazzy and Daffy, Big and Little Poison, Ducky Wucky and the Wild Horse of the Osage. I knew it had been thirty-five years since the Phillies had won a pennant, which, to an eight year old, seemed like forever.

I did not know it would be thirty until they won another.