Oh please, do not think for one moment this is a theological piece. Remember this column is primarily supposed to be funny, so if you are looking for some kind of divine intervention, you are definitely in the wrong place.
At one time or another, we all wrestle with the question whether there is a God, and I certainly gave it considerable thought during my pre-teenage years. You see I was a Dodgers fan, as devoted a fan as any lad of 8 or 9 years could possibly be. Let me remind you that I am referring to the Brooklyn Dodgers a/k/a “Dem Bums,” the real Dodgers, not some Johnny come lately imposters playing amongst the palm trees with deep suntans.
It seemed like every World Series ended up with my Dodgers playing their crosstown rivals, the dreaded New York Yankees. The night before each game I prayed to the God above that my Dodgers would finally beat the invincible Bronx Bombers. Year after year my prayers went unanswered as the Yanks won more and more championships. If there were one thing I was certain of, it was that God was unfortunately a Yankee fan.
If it were not bad enough the Yanks won all the time, what made it even worse was that each year I bet several of my allowances on the Dodgers, so I was not only sad every autumn but also broke.
In the autumn of 1955 the Dodgers and the Yankees once again played in the World Series. This time I had a thought, a revelation, and decided to take a different approach from prior years. I, of course, would root for the Dodgers, but would bet that the Yanks would win. I knew the Dodgers would lose, so at least I would be sad but rich.
Naturally the Dodgers won their first World Series title, and even though I was beyond overjoyed, I was broke again. And so, if there is a God, I think perhaps God was trying to teach me the importance of loyalty, but I am not sure.