It was six thirty on Monday. I was sitting in the bleachers at Loring Field watching the second-round playoffs for Portland Little League. My kid and his best friends Matty Stearns and Josh Harrigan were on Mancini’s and they were up against South Portland Boxing. Behind the baseball diamond, the tide was out in Back Cove and everything smelled faintly like sea air and the possibility of rain and popcorn from the Snack Shack, which, despite being cash only and operated by elementary school students, was doing a brisk trade. I was sitting next to Connie Harrigan, praying we made

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