Not sympathy, mind you.
This moment called for revulsion.
Excruciating levels of second hand embarrassment.
I consider myself a man of few regrets.
But one I do have is that never in my life have I gotten a foul ball.
Yet tragically, I’ve never come closer than three or four seats.
And I will probably take that regret to my grave.
He was front row.
It came right to him.
And he called for it despite sitting with two ladies who each had gloves on.
But even as they showed replay after replay from every angle, his troubles were only beginning.
Especially when he’s suffering his worst moments and the whole world is against him.
And in theory, you’d be right.
Most of the time.
Tim Abraham got from Carmella exactly what he needed, which is tough love.
She’s not in some Mennonite sect where the wife is to be seen and not heard.
She’s a woman of the 21st century.
She had her equipment.
She was dialed in.
And the only thing between her and permanent glory was her spouse’s clumsy pizza paddle hands.
And Carmella was in no mood to get scapegoated.
And in the long run, Tim will be better for it.
Yes, it’s great to have your wife’s unwavering support.
But there’s more benefit to having one who’s willing to call you out when you screw up.
To expect better out of you.
To hold you up to a high standard and inspire you to be all that you could be.
A better catcher of home run balls.
So good for you, Carmella.
But at least he’s winning at life.
