My heroes have always
been ball players.
Growing up in Brooklyn,
I worshiped my Dodgers
with particular attention to favorites –
Campy, Hodges, Snider,
and, of course, Jackie Robinson.
I devoured box scores
and prayed at the temple of Ebbets Field.
And when I was fourteen
the Dodgers crushed my teenage spirit
and abandoned me and my borough
for the distant west coast shore.
(can’t even say “Los Angeles.”)
Now, years later, at the World Series,
I have become a turncoat fan,
an odious term for changing sides.
I now root for the city of New York,
and for the “evil empire” Yankees.
I attend services at the new shrine
of Yankee Stadium where my prayers
are reserved for Judge and Soto.
Forgive me, my boyhood team.
I have moved on. My heroes
are still ball players, but they have,
because of new loyalties,
switched uniforms.