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Just a Metaphor for the Season, Really

I went to last night’s Mets game, which was an enthralling exhibition between two of the worst teams in baseball. Oh, Pirates. I wish you weren’t so futile. Except then, of course, the Mets wouldn’t win. Anyway…

There was a family sitting in the row behind me, and the four-year-old (or so) girl was screaming, “Let’s go, Mets! Hit it!”  I have to admit that it was a little bit cute, and I’m often the last person to admit that a child is cute.

I was enjoying my lapful of food (I went for the pulled pork this time, B&E readers) when the four-year-old suddenly took a header into my row. She bumped and startled me and landed face first on the seat next to me.

And that’s where she stayed for a while. I was covered in barbecue and had no place to put my food. Plus, I don’t really know what’s etiquette. Are you allowed to pick up someone else’s kid? Her own efforts to get up were futile.

I made a few moves to help, but by the time I got myself organized enough, the girl’s mother had picked her up. She had a little bump on her lip, but mostly, she just look mortified. She cried quietly in her mother’s lap for a little while.

This girl is the New York Mets.

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