I didn't have the heart to tell DePorter this story, but last June, my two sons and I got into an elevator at Macy's department store in midtown Manhattan at the same time as Moises Alou and two friends. Alou was playing for the Mets, but on the disabled list at the time. Someone mentioned Chicago and the conversation turned to the Cubs.
"Everywhere I play, even now, people still yell, 'Bartman! Bartman!' I feel really bad for the kid,'' Alou said, shaking his head.
"You know what the funny thing is?'' he added a moment later. "I wouldn't have caught it, anyway.''
My older son, who was wrenched from my arms and converted to Cubdom when he was still little, was leaning against the opposite wall.
"Sure you would have,'' he blurted out, looking straight at Alou. Then he put his head down, stared at his shoes and said nothing the rest of the ride.
"Everywhere I play, even now, people still yell, 'Bartman! Bartman!' I feel really bad for the kid,'' Alou said, shaking his head.
"You know what the funny thing is?'' he added a moment later. "I wouldn't have caught it, anyway.''
My older son, who was wrenched from my arms and converted to Cubdom when he was still little, was leaning against the opposite wall.
"Sure you would have,'' he blurted out, looking straight at Alou. Then he put his head down, stared at his shoes and said nothing the rest of the ride.
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