“It was spring now, and he called me and asked if I wanted his two tickets to the game. “What game?” “The Red Sox.” “Baseball?” “Yes, baseball.” “I guess so.” “They’re playing the Yankees at Fenway.” “Where’s that?” “Boston. Take Dolan. Tell him it’s the Yankees.” I’d heard of them but didn’t know they were from New York or that we were supposed to hate them. My father liked Sam Dolan, admired him for his muscles and good manners, and I’d heard them talk sports before, using words and terms and ...names I’d never heard. It was like sitting with Marjan’s family when they spoke Persian. Sometimes I listened hard for anything I might recognize, though I didn’t do that the few times Sam and my father talked about sports; I knew there was nothing in it I would know much about, these games with balls in them that men threw at each other or bounced or hit with a bat.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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