Once again it was a hot day, but in 1951 it was Erev Russia-shuna and the sun would set, signaling the somber start of the “Days of Awe”. In 1951 the air was electric with anticipated joy. The Brooklyn “Bums” were playing the New York Giants for the National League pennant.
First you should know, that in 1951, the Brooklyn Dodgers meant as much to our borough as the appearance of the Three Kings meant to Christianity. We followed the team’s every moment of every game of every season.
On summery Saturday nights, all my aunts, uncles and cousins would meet at Aunt Lena’s house for cake and coffee and a glass of “schnapps”. The kids played outside until it was too dark to see. The grown-ups stayed inside, eating, and sipping tea from a cup with a lump of hard sugar between their teeth. They talked heatedly about the latest game. They argued about scores and batting averages until my Aunt Ella would interrupt. “What Peewee Reese did…it’s good for the Jews?”
The Dodgers were way ahead going into the end of that season. Everyone thought they were a “shoo-in”. If they won the pennant, there was a slim chance … a quiet hope … that at last they would face and defeat the hated, invincible Yankees …those “Damn Yankees”. Just a few weeks later, the Giants had caught up with our home boys. Would you believe it? There had to be a three game playoff!
The first game went to the Giants on their home turf and we began to sweat. The second one went to the Dodgers at Ebbets Field and we began to hope. And we began to worry. And we petitioned whoever, to postpone the next night game at the Polo Grounds until after Russia-shuna to give us a chance to pray. And…incidentally, it would give our team a non-holy day of rest.
No luck. The crucial deciding game must go on. I don’t think there were any Jews on the two teams, but that would have made no difference. In 2013 it is much different. The Jews have Moe Berg, Hank Greenberg and Sandy Koufax, just to mention a few baseball greats, to brag about.
On Erev Russia-shuna, we had to eat a very fast dinner so we would be in temple by sundown. Oh, what a rush. The news spread like wildfire through the neighborhood. The game was still in progress but we had to go.
As we rushed down the street, passing from house to house, we could hear radios blaring.
Back in the City, It was the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the Dodgers were ahead by two runs. The Giants had three men on base. The Bums brought in Ralph Branca, their best lead-off pitcher. Just one more strike-out or one more pop-up to Center Field or one more line drive to the outfield … and we would triumph. As we hurried along our hearts kept pace with our feet. Suddenly … we heard the crack of a bat.
Andy Pafko raced … back…back…back…to the left field wall, reached high up for the dropping sphere… and the ball sailed over that wall and kept on going. Bobby Thompson hit a grand-slam home run called “the shot heard ‘round the world”! A great hurrah came from the Giant fans in the stands. A soft moan came from the Dodger fans at the game. A quiet wail rose to the heavens from the Jews of Brooklyn as Rosh Hashonah, once more, began with a mournful, pleading wail.