That date also was my seventh birthday. My father, Jerry, who was a huge baseball fan, decided to celebrate by taking his young Jewish son to Wrigley to see this matchup between the great Koufax, the hero to all Jews, and the lefty heir apparent. Unfortunately, I don't remember a thing about the game. I probably was more into my hot dogs and ice cream, as I still was a year or two away from beginning a lifelong obsession with baseball.