Mike Hindman's Live Thoughts from 5/10

I convinced my wife that she needed to go to the ballgame last night to see history. During the game, she flirted with babies in the surrounding seats, struck up a converstation with a couple of folks, quietly read the program, and wondered aloud why anyone would want to have an office "out there." She noticed someone nearby whose child had somehow missed out on the free gift given away at the entrance and gave ours away to him. She even asked two baseball-related questions and astutely observed that the Cleveland bullpen sure looks like it would be a lot hotter and more miserable than the Rangers bullpen. But for the most part, she just sat there. Smiling and watching the world go by.

Meanwhile, I was getting my money's worth, hanging on every pitch--no matter how awful it was. I seethed. And after having sat there all night quietly (OK, occasionally it wasn't so quietly) enraged, seeing John Thomson throw yet another belt-high meatball, and watching one Palmeiro at-bat after another pass without the big moment coming along, I left the stadium dejected and a little angry, but didn't say anything about it.

Then, as we were walking back to the car, she smiled her dimply smile and said, "sure was a nice breeze in there tonight. Thanks for bringing me."

Ah, yes. It is indeed the great game.

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