OH, THE PAIN

I got e-mail from my brother-in-law Don, who invited me to go to a Mets game, which I accepted. To quote him: “ They could be clinching that night”.

The only clinching that was done was by me with my teeth. A pall seems to be hanging over the stadium; the fans have no enthusiasm, and the team plays like it is Friday afternoon before leaving for a vacation.

But thanks go to my beautiful niece Sarah Harrow for thinking about her Uncle Joe for the tickets, as she had them and couldn’t make it but thought I might like to go. To me that is an honor, and I truly appreciate it. The risks are that I root for the Mets, that is not her fault, and indirectly may be mine, handed down from my Dad.

I know full well I will survive the pain of watching those Bums lose last night, and maybe throw away a whole season.

I went with not only my brother-in-law Don, a prince of a man who married one of my sisters, (I can't for the life of me remember her name right now) but with the prince of kielbasa, another brother-in-law, John. John is older than I am, and together we are experiencing the stress and pains of growing old. Getting out of the car after the trip home from Shea Stadium, we both groaned at the same time when we stood up!

If the Bums don’t make the playoffs at least, I will enjoy the post season even more, since I won’t be biting my nails, throwing out body language and stifling swear words through the course of it.

I’d like to say: “well the football season started” but I have to admit, it doesn’t look to good either.

Send all your snide remarks to:
joedelbroccolo@yahoo.com
tell him: “Grow up.”