I had the good fortune of watching a Major League Baseball game in Cleveland the other night. It was a Gismot-family excursion in the midst of a Gismot-family reunion of sorts.
Our visit, and this ballpark outing, was great fun. Live baseball on a warm and clear spring evening has a way of being so. The only blemish on the night, aside from my kid having a dippin’ dots-fueled stomach ache for a while, was the Mets themselves—which is to say I had a great time in spite of the sorry showing this sad-sack team put forth.