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finished my homework outside. Waiting and hoping Jackie would come home while I was outside. No luck. Days passed without a single sighting.
    â€œI can’t believe he’s two doors down and I haven’t bumped into him!” I vented to Sena on our walk home from school one afternoon.
    â€œStephen Jay Satlow, give it a rest!” Sena shouted at me.
    I was shocked. Didn’t she get it? He was my hero. He was my neighbor. Spotting Jackie Robinson was the only goal. Speaking directly to him would be a bonus. My whole life depended on a handshake. A wave of the cap. Hearing Jackie say my name. “Oh, Sena,” I replied in disgust. “If you weren’t a Yankees fan, you’d get it.”
    The closer we got to the home opener, the more obsessed I became. The Robinson family had lived in the neighborhood almost two weeks and I still hadn’t spotted Jackie.
    The next thing I knew, it was April 20—opening day! The Dodgers were opening the season on the road. Dad and I sat on the front porch listening to the first game of the 1948 season. The Dodgers were playing their crosstown rivals, the New York Giants, at the Polo Grounds. With Jackie on second and the newly acquired catcher, Roy Campanella, at home plate, the Dodgers were once again making history. They were now the first Major League team to have two black players in the regular lineup. It was a three-game series at the Giants’ stadium. By the end, the Dodgers took two out of three games.
    Friday, April 23, our beloved Brooklyn Dodgers returned to Ebbets Field! Their home opener was against the Philadelphia Phillies at two in the afternoon. I begged Dad not to send me to school. I simply had to stay home and listen to the game on the radio.
    â€œPlease, please, please, Dad,” I pleaded.
    He looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and wheat toast and smiled at me. “Got a surprise for you, son.”
    I sat up straight in my chair. “What is it, Dad?” I asked.
    While my curiosity mounted, my father toyed with the saltshaker, then reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets. He handed them to me and I jumped out of my seat!
    â€œThis is unbelievable! I thought you’d forgotten. Or didn’t want to go. Dad, I’m the happiest kid in Brooklyn.” I leaned in and kissed my father on his cheek.
    â€œYou’ve worked hard to improve your attitude at school and home,” Dad said. “Miss Maliken’s reports are all good. And I wanted to share this special day with you.”
    â€œI’ve never been so excited!” I told my father. “Maybe now I’ll finally meet Jackie Robinson. Think so, Dad?”
    â€œI don’t know, son. It’s possible.”
    â€œMrs. Robinson said that Jackie liked children,” I told him. “Maybe he’ll come over to me after batting practice and I can get him to sign my baseball,” I said.
    â€œIf you meet Jackie Robinson, I imagine he’ll sign your ball.”
    â€œCan we go early?”
    â€œThat’s the plan,” Dad said with a chuckle.
    Dad and I took the train to Ebbets Field for five cents. On the ride there, I rehearsed my first words to Jackie. I turned the new baseball in my hands. I’d planned on meeting Jackie in our neighborhood, but it didn’t matter. If I saw him, I’d tell him that we’re neighbors. That would be just as good.
    â€œDad, were the tickets very expensive?” I asked.
    â€œIt was worth every penny. I don’t know when you’ve been this happy.”
    â€œI am happy, Dad. I will remember this day always,” I said, leaning in and hugging his shoulder. “Thank you so, so much!” I looked away. My smile was mixed with tears in my eyes, and I didn’t want my father to see them. I went back to rehearsing what I’d say when I met Jackie Robinson. “I live two doors down from you,” I repeated softly. Yes, that would make me