![]() ![]() ![]() "I wished that Robin Roberts of the Phillies would fall down the steps of his stoop, and that Richie Ashburn would break his hand." "Every night," I admitted, "before going to bed, in my prayers." "The Yankee pitcher?" he asked, surprise and concern in his voice. Speaking as softly as I could, I made my admission. He had picked out the one group of sins that most troubled me. ![]() "I talked in church twenty times, I disobeyed my mother five times, I wished harm to others several times, I told a fib three times, I talked back to my teacher twice." I held my breath. "Yes, my child, and what sins have you committed?" As I knelt on the small worn bench, I could hear a boy's halting confession through the wall, his prescribed penance inaudible as the panel slid open on my side and the priest directed his attention to me. “I opened the curtain and entered the confessional, a dark wooden booth built into the side wall of the church. ![]()
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