It might have been 1962. Perhaps 1963. It was a simpler time. And I wore, to paraphrase Billy Joel, a much younger man’s clothes. My family lived in a small, suburban town in the San Francisco Bay Area called Castro Valley. And we were baseball fans. Football was catching on, and a few people liked the NBA at the time. But in the early 1960s, Americans were obsessed with baseball. We carried transistor radios to hear the ballgame announcers, and we tore into the local newspaper the next day to read the box scores. In my case, the local paper Read more
