Some nights at the ballpark are so, so wonderful.
Sitting with George Three’s nephew Mason game me so many smiles at the Syracuse Mets game.
When they threw the T-shirts out between innings, one winged its way to the nice gentleman wearing a black T in the row ahead of us. He immediately turned and handed the prize to Mason. Thank you, sir!
One inning later, a foul ball bounced above us and careened into the hop of the woman in the row below, to the right. And she turned and handed it to Mason.
Pretty sweet evening at the ballpark for an 11-year-old, I’d say.
And George, Elisabeth, my dear wife Karen, his grandma Susan and myself, too.