Twenty-five years ago today, the New York Mets produced, directed, and starred in one of the greatest baseball moments of all time. Twenty-five years ago yesterday, I was almost barred from witnessing it.
I was so angry and moody after the Game 5 loss to Boston that my Mom, having heard quite enough of my nonsense, said “if you don’t stop acting so spoiled, you’re going to be grounded from watching Game 6.” Imagine being barred from watching THAT game, and being scarred for all eternity. That is the kind of event that either leads to severe lifelong depression, or a really sweet screenplay.
I like how it turned out, screenplay be damned. Today, we celebrate the anniversary of a crazy and exhilirating ballgame. Yesterday, I celebrated the anniversary of shutting up long enough to be able to watch it. Obviously, I haven’t shut up since. I promise I’ll learn my lesson one of these years.
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