The horse race tragedy that united a family in heartbreak

I’ve written before about the protocols of sport that were followed at 669 Thrush Avenue, West Hempstead, when that address was the purview of my father, Mickey, aka “Mick the Pro.”

Mick the Pro grew up a Yankees fan, mostly because so many of the Yankees of his youth — DiMaggio, Rizzuto, Berra, Crosetti — had vowels at them end of their surnames, as he did. He also became a fierce supporter of the football Giants, of the Knicks, of the Rangers, because there weren’t any other choices.

In time, as he grew older and more teams came to town, and he moved from Corona, Queens, to West Hempstead with my mother, he developed his sporting rules of the house, which were imbued in me from the start. And they went something like this:

1. Always root for “New York.”