Allie LaForce rushed out of the grocery store, whizzing past every cramped aisle stocked with canned goods. Once she reached the bustling streets of New York City, she raised her phone to her face.



Staring back was her husband, Joe Smith. The clock was ticking toward MLB’s trade deadline, so she wanted to skip the formalities and get to the pressing issue: Were they on the move?



Joe, blessed with his mom’s wit, preferred to draw it out. His day in Chicago was going pretty well, he told her. Nothing special. Her inner monologue, meanwhile, was spiraling out of control.



Yeah, that’s nice. Did the Blue Jays trade you? Are we moving to another city? I packed up our Toronto apartment just in case. We’re not headed back home to Cleveland, are we? No, no. No need to get my hopes up. But tell me!



Finally, she blurted it out.



“Are we going somewhere?”



Joe laughed.



“You can guess (where),” he said.



She knew. She had tried to temper her expectations, but it happened. She released a high-pitched shriek that turned every head from Manhattan to Montauk.



“Are you happy?” she asked.



“How many times have you seen me cry in my life?” he replied.



They both shed some tears, elated by Joe’s trade to the Indians, to Allie’s hometown, to Joe’s former team, to the city in which they founded their relationship.



Most important, the trade positioned them to within a tolerable drive of Joe’s mom.



‌‌‌ Lee Smith...