Hours of Operation: M, F 8 a.m.–4 p.m. T, Th, 8 a.m.–5 p.m. W 9 a.m.–3 p.m.
ON THE MOVE
DREAMS OF YANKEE STADIUM
This may surprise you, but I didn’t always want to be “The Physical Therapy Doctor.” Well before I knew about the medical discipline, when I was just a kid, I had my heart set on a very different goal: playing for the New York Yankees. If you’re a Mets fan, please at least recycle this newsletter after you tear it up ... Baseball was the first sport I fell in love with as a kid. How could you not in this city with two storied teams to choose from? Of course, like many of us, my allegiance to the Yankees was inherited more than anything else. My father had been a fan since he was a kid despite growing up in Brooklyn back when the Dodgers still called Flatbush home. A huge Mickey Mantle fan, my dad went against the grain, cheering on the Yankees and The Mick despite pressure from his neighbors. But while my father may have introduced me to the Yankees, I had no trouble falling in love with the team all on my own. Considering the roster of heavy hitters they had when I was growing up, from Reggie Jackson to Billy Martin, the 1970s were just a good year to be a fan. But my all-time favorite was Willie Randolph. Seeing someone who had grown up playing
I could have used about 70 more pounds of muscle just to be in the same league as the players they look at.
But were all those days spent at Juniper a waste? I don’t think so. Baseball taught me life skills I still use and treasure today. Everything from being a team player to the personal responsibility that comes with keeping a well-oiled mitt has come in handy over the course of my life. Some of these skills have even come in handy in physical therapy. In both baseball and PT, patience is key. You don’t win a game in a single inning, and you don’t heal people overnight. Slow and steady wins the race. An eye for detail is also key in both professions, from understanding subtle communications between players to noticing the difference between sciatica and other forms of back pain. I love the work I do now, and I love how baseball brought me here.
“When I couldn’t get in on a league game, I was playing stickball sewer-to-sewer with my friends.”
stickball in Brooklyn don the pinstripes and win back-to-back world titles was nothing short of inspiring. I thought, if Willie could do it, why not me?
I played baseball feverishly back in those days. Living half a block away from Juniper Park, I signed myself up to every league that would have me — often hopping game to game and only pausing to switch shirts to match my teammates. When I couldn’t get in on a league game, I was playing stickball sewer-to-sewer with my friends. Those are some good memories. Not to toot my own horn too much, but I was a real contender in those days. I learned to throw a curveball at a young age and relished playing shortstop and third base — I wanted to be where the ball was hit the hardest. But despite my arm and my reflexes, I wasn’t Yankees material.
–Dr. Robert Morea
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