Memories of the Way He and His Friends Were

For someone who has grown up in Brooklyn, N.Y., where the streets were our playground, Jim Murray’s (July 19) column on “The Game, the Way He Played It” was pure nostalgia.

Our football was a newspaper tied with string, our games boundaries were sewer to sewer. I was that catcher without a mask, we swung that heavily taped bat with the screw in it. We played all those games and then some.

Thanks for a look back to the way we were.

PETER CAVALLO

Port Hueneme