I learned the art of narrative history from nightly sessions with my father when, through my scorebook, I recreated every play of every inning of the Brooklyn Dodger game that had taken place that afternoon while he was at work in New York. He never told me when I was six that all this was described in great detail in the sports pages the next day so I thought without my rendering of the history of the game, he would never even know what happened to the Dodgers! No wonder history developed a fascination for me, eventually leading me to get a Ph.d at Harvard and to write a series of presidential histories including books on Lyndon Johnson, the Kennedys, Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt and Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. The Brooklyn Dodgers broke my heart when they moved to California, so much so that I couldn?t bear to follow baseball for several years until I came to Harvard in 1964 and went to Fenway Park. There it was again: a stadium so much like Ebbets Field, scaled to human dimensions, the players so close it almost seemed you could touch them, the fans so passionate. Nor could I have found a new team more reminiscent of the old Brooklyn Dodgers -? exciters of hope every spring with dreams destroyed every fall by the hated New York Yankees -? until of course the triumph of 2004, the start of a new era that happily rendered obsolete the title of the memoir I wrote about my childhood love for baseball: Wait Till Next Year. For Next Year finally came!