Alan Steinberg

April 1961, Far Rockaway High School baseball field, Queens, NY:  At 15 I make the JV to start my quest to make varsity and become THE star, like my brother Mike five years prior.  I’m committed to realize my childhood dream of morphing into my only hero, Brooklyn Dodgers star Duke Snider, aka "The Duke of Flatbush.". Yeah, I wanna be "The Duke of Far Rockaway." Sue me.

First practice, my boyhood pal Joe Rascoff is wearing The Duke's number 4 (literally: these are actual Dodgers unis they donated to us), so I cajole him into exchanging his jersey for my meaningless No. 8. (Fate rewards him big-time later when he becomes business manager for The Rolling Stones)

From June 19, 1952, when I first saw Duke play at Ebbets Field, I wanted to be him: graceful, gifted, dramatic, adored.  His blue No. 4 was emblazoned on my soul: I wore it on every team I played for, from the day I earned the fortuitous headline "A HIGH SCHOOL SNIDER" in The Herald Tribune after making a game-saving, barehanded catch atop the fence at Babe Ruth Field and hitting the winning homer, leading us to the New York City Baseball Championship ... to, finally, my two rec hockey teams here in Iron Mountain, MI, through ages 64-72

I treasure the Rockaway jersey above all other talismans because, at 17, it made my first big dream come true.  And taught me maybe the most important lesson I ever learned: Dream big because, who knows, maybe all your dreams will come true.