When I began writing my novel Buying A Year which kicked off a period of self-examination, I thought a lot about my childhood. And I realized something; I can't remember a time when I didn't know the rules of football and baseball. It seems funny in a way, that my father or one of my uncles or a friend didn't sit down with me and draw a baseball diamond and say: here's where the shortstop stands, this is what a catcher does, you have to put your foot on the bases and homeplate or it doesn't count. I think, growing up in Pittsburgh, you learn these things just by being there.

It's the greatest equalizer there is. In Pittsburgh everybody loves the Pirates and the Steelers, little kids, teenagers, grownups, everybody. There are no sports fans anywhere like people from Pittsburgh; I don't think we see our beloved players as very separated from ourselves and our families. We love them deeply. Some we love more than others. I will love Bill Mazeroski until the day I die. Who could not love Jerome Bettis, "the bus?" But aside from personal favorites, we love our teams as a whole. It's interesting to think about how this came to be, this personal and passionate love Pittsburghers have for their teams. I can tell you for sure that it's not the same in Philadelphia. I lived there for 25 years and I apologize in advance to any Eagles and/or Phillies fans, but it just is not the same there. If their teams are struggling they boo them, turn their backs on them. That's not real love. There are many devoted Steelers fans here, where I live now. People wear Steelers and Pirates tee shirts and jackets and watch every game.

One summer evening the kids on my block got together as we always did and split up into teams to play baseball. A girl, Amy Yatzkan, was up at bat and the pitcher hurled the ball. The ball hit the bat that Amy had cocked, ready to swing, except that she didn't swing and the ball bounced off to the side. That set off the biggest, noisiest argument we ever had on our street. Was it a foul, a strike, or a ball? Nobody could figure it out. We screamed so loud that some of the adults told us to be quiet, which was unusual. The adults on our street were quite tolerant of our games and how much noise we made. I guess they just knew that it was good for us to be outside, having fun, and getting fresh air and exercise.