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"If he'd passed this Klusowsky," Sam says, "somebody else would have homered. That's fate, Joe."
"Maybe we can still afford to lose one," I tell him.
"Sure," Sam says. "Look how it used to be years ago. You win two out of five an' you think you done some-thin'."
"It's still a great club," I tell him. "The best ever."
I come out of Klein's and stop by the delicatessen for some beer. I'm feeling pretty good now, the best since Kluszewski hit that home run and robbed us of a game. You know how it is when you have good neighbors? Everybody's on your side; everybody's rooting for you and with you. You can even stand a guy like Uncle Nathan. Where do you find neighbors like this?
I come down the walk toward my house, and Saul Ruskin hasn't moved from his chair on the sidewalk. I go past Saul, and he lifts two fingers in the V-for-victory sign.
"Tomorrow," says Saul.
How can you beat neighbors like that? How can you beat Brooklyn?
Uncle Nathan is standing by the screen door when I come in, and he says, "You gonna slit your throat tonight, Joe, because the Dodgers lost?"
"Jump in the lake," I tell him. "Take a long run an' jump in the lake."