I live in Alpine but grew up in NY in a place called Spanish Harlem. I can remember as a little girl going into other neighborhoods to watch my father and his buddies challenge other teams. Most of the games were played on Sundays and the people would all take the cars off the block so the guys could play. I was Daddy’s girl and also the son he never had. Most of the games were played for big money, each man putting up a certain amount.

My favorite place was Little Italy.

They played right on Mott and Hester Street and I remember having a huge crush on a player from the other team. I was all of 8 years old. Those were the good old days. People would be hanging ot windows and families would be on their fire escapes with salami sandwiches to cheer their teams on. Win or lose, everyone had a good time and never did I witness any fights or hard feelings. I was always proud of Daddy and even though he is to old for stickball I’m still proud to be his little girl.