The Gooseberry Redemption

Sometimes, a missed opportunity is clear only in heartbreaking retrospect. Sometimes, you can look back and see a moment when if only you'd done something, your whole life, and possibly those of people you know, could be different.

It's become clear to me that an innocuous decision I made some time ago has clearly set in motion a painful chain of events.

I speak, of course, of my fateful decision to purchase a Cleveland Indians hat at the airport as I left town over the Fourth of July weekend. Since that fateful day, the Tribe has lost 14 of 20. But on the day I left Cleveland, the Tribe was 10 games over .500, had just taken a ringing doubleheader from the Tigers, and I had enjoyed one of my best July Fourth holidays in memory. It began with a visit to my beloved Jake with blog groupie and good friend tommyo. Travis Hafner homered ... twice. Then I went over to the turn-of-the-century farmhouse my aunt and uncle own in the Cleveland suburbs, for grilled meats and ice-cold beer. After that, I listened to Coco Crisp hit an inside-the-park homer, followed by His Pronkness' third homer of the day. Life was good.

And now, the Indians are three and a half games out of the wild card spot. It's all my fault. Gooseberries, you're totally off the hook. Put it all on me.


My July 4 repast. Those ribs were better than you can imagine, the deviled eggs had avocado and cilantro in them and that slaw was homemade. It's a family recipe, as you might imagine.