In 1939, when my father was twelve years old, little else mattered to him beyond his gang, his street, and the indomitable New York Yankees. In his 85th year, he told me the story of a trip to a ball game, but what I heard was the story of American manhood, and what I learned was how we became great. Set in New Haven, Connecticut, Kicking Dust recounts the adventures of four young Italian and Irish immigrants making their way to the '39 Yankees' World Series game. Andy "Bar" Ferraro, his little brother, Nick "Needles" Ferraro, Jimmy "The Mick" McCarthy, and Fats Mangini are the Wooster Street gang. Their plan, to become Yankees' bat boys, leads them to discover that life can be a pretty dicey affair. The boys learn the painful and beautiful lessons of manhood when their parents force them to reach beyond their own small worlds toward an ever-expanding Americanism. Just a few years before a war will forever change their lives, the boys wrestle with the usual things: religion, parents, girls. But there is an ever-changing nation offering new chances and huge dreams that sometimes seem daunting. The World's Fair, Lou Gehrig's retirement, and American radio shake the foundations of what seems a normal childhood. This is for anyone who grew up Catholic, or grew up with last names that sounded funny, or grew up thinking he knew more than his father. This is a story of gambling women, swearing nuns, and first girlfriends with scraped knees. This is for boys who became soldiers and fathers and heroes and Americans. It is a book for people who sometimes kick dust when they walk out of habit, and because they naturally make marks, like my father has.