I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco. The Philadelphia Warriors, without my consent, took it there.
For me, the Warriors' sudden and unexpected departure for California in 1962 was a sting as sharp as death's. And while healing came with time, wisdom did not. I didn't understand the move then, and, 53 years later, I still don't.
This week, seeing and hearing the Warriors' name so often during these 2015 NBA Finals, I had to wonder again why my beloved basketball franchise abandoned me.
If, as we like to believe, Philadelphia is a basketball town, then the Warriors should have been a bedrock civic institution, like TastyKake or the Museum of Art.