There’s something about sports grudges that makes them never entirely fade away. Although the raw, immediate anger passes eventually, you never quite move on entirely, especially over slights that may have happened in your formative years.
This is all on my mind because a play in Saturday night’s Game 2 of the American League Championship Series between the Yankees and Astros brought up the inevitable references to the great Satan of my middle school years, Jeffrey Maier.
A young Houston fan in the front row reached his glove in the general direction of a Carlos Correa fly ball that was on the way to clearing the fence, just barely.