So That Was MY Weekend

Let's begin by saying it wasn't the best in my history. Let me also say that, after this weekend, I both love and loathe air travel.
For starters, Barry Bonds broke the home-run record on Tuesday. I was scheduled to fly out to Phoenix on Friday to spend the weekend with Mark and his family. The Nationals were playing the Diamondbacks and Sunday was Mark's birthday. That was the plan. Things did not go according to plan.
My weekend begins Thursday night while at work. I work until 9 pm on Thursdays, for those of you who don't know. I went to e-check-in to my 6am Friday flight to Phoenix, only to find it had been canceled. The option United was offering was a 6pm (yes, TWELVE hours later) flight Friday evening. I had a small meltdown, called Mark and my dad to ask if it would still be worth it to go. I called three different customer service phone numbers for the airline and spent a combined total of two hours on hold, listening to a thirty second riff of "Rhapsody in Blue" over and over...and over...and never once spoke to an actual person. Finally, at 10:30pm Thursday night, I booked my only option and went home.
I got up Friday morning and repacked so as to avoid having to check a bag. Then it got better...
The flight was scheduled to leave at 6:10pm. It finally left at 8:30pm. Before the flight left, I was: a)informed that in the wrong seat, b)told that I had never checked in (I checked in the night before online AND had my boarding pass scanned) and c)reseated behind the screaming toddler and his two sisters. Oh. Joy. I had been in a window seat, and now I was in an aisle seat. Once we were finally FINALLY in the air, I realized I had taken too much Dramamine, which made me twitchy and unable to sleep properly. Not to mention the fact that I was in an aisle seat, when I had specifically picked a window seat when I booked the flight. At this point, I hated United Airlines and all air travel in general.
I arrived in Phoenix two hours later than I had planned and Mark's family picked me up at Sky Harbor International Airport. We went out for ice cream and I thought, "Well, I'm here. Everything is fine now." Mark came home from the baseball game and we chatted for a bit, made plans for Saturday's and went to bed.
My cell phone rang at 8:30am Saturday morning. It was my mom. She says, "I have some bad news. Buddy (my grandfather) died last night. The funeral is Sunday; we think at 11. You need to get to Connecticut. We'll pay for the flights."
I absolutely lost it at this point and started crying. Not only had I just lost my grandfather, but I now had to get back on a plane (I had just gotten off a plane maybe 8 hours ago at this point), fly BACK across the country and go to a funeral. I had packed for a weekend of baseball games--I didn't have clothes for a funeral. It was Mark's birthday weekend. I wanted to be with him, not at a funeral.
I turned to Mark and said through my sobs, "I need a flight to Hartford." He sprang into action. I absolutely love my boyfriend. He is the most wonderful man in the world. After several calls back and forth to my parents, who were in the process of helping my sister move into a new apartment in Arlington (OMG!), we got me a flight to Hartford that afternoon, a rental car and a flight back to Dulles on Monday. My mom offered to go to my house and pick up clothes for me. I could't think if my black suit was clean (when was the last time I wore that? I can't think...). I couldn't think if anyone would be home (did my roommate put the spare key back? I don't know). I told my mom not to worry, that I would just buy a dress in Phoenix, they have stores here.
I'd like to give a huge thanks to the Zuckerman family. Truly, truly wonderful, supportive people. Mark's dad made pancakes for breakfast and then Mark's mom took me shopping for a dress and shoes. Yes folks, I went dress shopping with my boyfriend's mom. I'll pause to let that sink in a moment. It was truly a bonding moment. I now worship T.J. Maxx. I found a lovely dress and perfect shoes in no more than 15 minutes--spent a total of $70. Awesome.
By 3:00, I was back in the air, zooming across the country on my way to Connecticut and my family. Thank heaven for the internet and the availability of last minute cross-country flights. 10 years ago, I would never have made it. At this point, I was thanking my lucky starts for United airlines and air travel. Did I mention I was getting frequent flier miles for all of this? There had to be a silver lining somewhere...
I landed in Hartford at 11:00pm and got my rental car with no trouble. It took an hour and a half to get to the hotel in Bridgeport and, amazingly, I ddin't get lost! I thought I got lost once, but it turned out I that I hadn't. I checked into the hotel and my family arrived at 2am, having driven up from DC after spending the entire day moving. We are troopers, but these are the things you do for your family.
Sunday was the funeral. Sunday was a surreal, emotional day. My sister broke down a couple of times, much to her own surprise. I think we were all more shook up than we thought. After all, hadn't we been expecting this for a long time?
A Jewish funeral is very different from a Christian funeral. First of all, there is NEVER an open casket. Second, Jews are not embalmed and we are not buried in fancy caskets--we rest in plain, pine boxes. We are also buried in shrouds, not regular clothes. At the cemetery, while the mourners are there, the casket is lowered into the ground and then there is a small ceremony. The ceremony ends with the mourners shoveling dirt onto the coffin. It is considered a mitzvah (a good deed or honor) to help bury the dead.
I have been to a Jewish funeral before, but I was very young. I don't really remember it. This one I will remember. There is no sound so eerie as that of a shovelful of dirt hitting a wooden coffin that is at the bottom of a grave. It is unmistakable. It is a hollow, empty, final sound.
After the funeral, we all went back to Grammy's apartment for a deli dinner. Lots of people visited. Most of them know me, and I know some of them. It was weird. All of my cousins, aunts, and uncles were there. Amazingly, all of us were able to get there--I had the furthest to travel. Everyone was impressed that I made it; but really, was there ever a question that I would? You just don't NOT come to your grandfather's funeral.
Monday morning we all reconvened at Grammy's for more deli (what is it with Jews and deli platters?) and good-byes. I drove the rental car back to Hartford and flew home. I picked up my car at Dulles and drove to Mark's house, where I promptly crashed. Mark arrived later that night and we slept. I took a half day off on Tuesday and I am back at work for regular hours today.
I had planned to spend three days in Phoenix with my boyfriend and his family, watching baseball. Instead I spent 17 hours in Phoenix, 14 hours in transit, and a day and a half in Connecticut for Buddy's funeral. I still feel very out of it and numb. I'm mildly depressed. This has affected me more than I expected. I've been thinking lately about ways that I am like Buddy, and it makes me happy. He was a sweet, kind, artistic man. I like being like him.

Happy Barry Bonds Day!

Alright folks, show's over, time to go home. Drive safely, don't forget to tip your waitresses. Barry Bonds hit home run No. 756 at 11:51 pm EST last night off Nationals pitcher Mike Bascik. The Chase is done, the 450 media members have packed up and flown home (well, maybe not yet considering it's only 6:40 am in San Francisco), the videotaped congratulations have been issued, the speeches have been given, and yes, my flight to Phoenix for this weekend has been booked.
In the end, I think all of this turned out exactly how most of us expected. All of the league officials (or their designees) and baseball greats gave their nice sound bites and congratulated Mr. Bonds, who was appropriately appreciative and humble. Everyone cheered and was happy, and the mayor of San Francisco designated today Barry Bonds Day. But let's be honest, did anyone really expect Hank Aaron not to saying anything? Or worse--show up on a JumboTron and say something disparaging?
No, we didn't. Hank Aaron's a classy guy. Of course he was going to say something congratulatory. If he didn't, then he looks like the jerk. And what about Commissioner "Cadillac" Bud Selig? He wormed his way out of this one perfectly! A "scheduling conflict" prevents him from being there in person, so he gets away with sending Frank Robinson to make an appearance and calling Bonds on the phone. Thanks Bud, you've literally "phoned it in" on this one.
Our beloved Nationals get some national media attention (probably the only national media attention for a LONG time) and Mike Bacsik gets to be famous for a little while. He was a good pitcher for this job, since he's not well known and therefore has no "reputation" to taint and no large ego to be destroyed by this moment. He was good-natured about the whole thing and I give him a lot of credit. Brian Schneider gets to be in highlight videos and photos for the next 10 years (or until A-Rod breaks this record).
Regardless of my other feelings, I am thankful this happened exactly the way Mark predicted it would, so that I get to go to Phoenix this weekend.

Cal & Tony

Jose Canseco is saying that Alex Rodriguez uses steroids. It seems that everyone is under suspicion these days. All of our athletes are junkies and criminals. After watching the Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony yesterday, I can't help but wonder: what happened to the Cal Ripkens and Tony Gwynns of the world? The athletes who we could point out to our children and say, "See, look at him. Be like him! He's one of the good guys!" Now we have people like Barry Bonds and Michael Vick, who we pray our children never grow up to emulate.

In 2007, Barry Bonds stands poised to break Hank Aaron's career home run record, and a significant number of baseball fans are not happy. Bonds gets booed in every city he visits. Fans throw toothpaste tubes and syringes on the field. He snarls at reporters, telling them, "It doesn't matter what I say. You're going to write whatever you want." He is a juiced-up, surly and unhappy man. Some people say that steroids don't matter, but they do. No one is saying to their kid, "Look at Barry Bonds. Be like him. He's one of the good guys." Let's face it, no one really likes Barry Bonds.

In 1998, we all cheered for Mark McGwire as he broke Roger Maris's single season homerun record. We all really liked Mark McGwire. We all cried with him as he touched Maris's bat, brought down from Cooperstown just for the occasion. "Look," we all said, "he's so touched! What a good, all-American guy." He seemed like one of those men we could point at and say, "Look at Mark McGwire, there's a man with integrity! Be like him! He's one of the good guys." Then we found that he was using steriods (or MAYBE was using steroids, or MAYBE he just didn't want to tell Congress about it, or who knows) and it cast a shadow over our feelings for him and for other athletes we cheered--we questioned our other heroes. Now Mark McGwire has gone into hiding somewhere in California. He was eligible to be elected to the Hall of Fame this year, but received less than 25% of votes. Who knows whether or not he will actually make it to Cooperstown?

With Cal Ripken, Jr. and Tony Gwynn there was never any question. There was never any suspicion. There was no shadow of doubt, no whispered accusation, no scandal. When the ballots came back this year, Cal was elected with 98.53% of the votes and Tony with 97.6%. There's no uncertainty there. The baseball world knows how it feels about these two men. We can say with absolute certainty "Be like Tony. Be like Cal."

Men like Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken, Jr. make us believe in heroes, make us think that good men still exist. Seeing them elected to the Hall of Fame makes us think that maybe the nice guys don't always finish last, because certainly these two didn't. These are two men who made it to the top, and they did it through hard work and dedication, not through lying, cheating, and stealing.

But Cal and Tony don't play baseball anymore. We don't read articles about them in our daily newspapers. We can't take our kids to an Orioles or Padres game to watch these men in action. So who do we hold up as role models? Where have all the good men gone? In this day of steroids, blood doping, tax evasion and dog fighting, are there any real good guys left out there? If so, where are they? They certainly don't seem to be on the playing fields, courts, and rinks of the sports world. Who are the good little boys growing up to be? When I have a son, who can I point out as a good role model to him? Who will be his Cal Ripken, his Tony Gwynn?

"No, Mr. Bonds, I expect you to die!"

Barry Bonds is ruining my life. Yes it's true. Well, at least my social life. For those of you who don't know, Barry Bonds is currently on track to break the career home run record (755 HR, held by Hank Aaron) sometime soon, probably in the next week or so. My boyfriend is supposed to go cover this event--Bonds hitting No. 756 and becoming the new home run champ. Okay, so how does this affect me?
August 10, 11, and 12 (Fri, Sat, and Sun) the Nationals will be in Phoenix playing the Diamondbacks. Mark's family lives in Phoenix, so I am planning to make the trip with him.
Now, let's say that Barry Bonds (my new best friend) has not broken the home run record yet, but is on track to break it that weekend (say he has tied it, which he will do as soon as he hits 2 more home runs--last week he did this in one game). In that case, I will not be going to Phoenix and neither will Mark. Instead, I will be going out with my girlfriends, and Mark will spend his birthday weekend watching Barry Bonds potentially break the home run record against Mark's beloved Pirates. Nightmare scenario. Of course, as I pointed out, Mark could also be spending his birthday weekend watching the Pirates crush the Giants. I don't think he sees my logic.
That's worst case scenario, here's another one: As things stand now, Mark is in Philly today and is scheduled go to New York on Friday and come home on Sunday.
If Best Friend Barry hits two homers at any point this week (bringing him up to No. 755), then Mark doesn't go to New York, he goes to San Fran to start following Mr. Bonds (or "Barroid") around until he hits No. 756, which could take who-knows-how-long. Of course, if Best Friend Barry doesn't hit 755 until this weekend, then instead of coming HOME on Sunday, Mark flies out to LA and then to San Diego to follow the Giants and Best Friend Barry, and then back to San Fran tomeets up with the Nats. I won't see him for three weeks (that's half of spring training, folks).
I tried to tell him that he shouldn't complain about two weeks in California, but again, he doesn't really see my logic. Wonderful boyfriend that he is, Mark says he would rather be home with me. Awww. I would rather be gallavanting around sunny California with him.
In an ideal world, Best Friend Barry will break the record against the Nats when they are in San Francisco and it won't disrupt Mark's work schedule at all, nor will it disrupt MY vacation plans (and really, isn't THAT what's important here?).
So thanks to you, Barry Bonds, I have no idea when I will next see my boyfriend, and no idea what plans to make for the next couple of weekends. In addition to everything else, this makes you stink even more.

Meet Me in St. Louis (Day Three)

My third and final day in St. Louis. Sunday was a day game, so I slept in and got brunch at the hotel to save some money. I walked over to the ballpark and ended up sitting near the pitcher's ex-fiancee's parents again. I chatted with them through almost the entire game. Such nice people! It turned out that they had lived in Northern Virginia for about three years while the husband was stationed at the Pentagon with the Coast Guard. So, they knew all about DC and Northern Virginia. Talk about a small world.
There was another rain delay and we all cheered for the grounds crew, who managed to get the tarp over the infield in time to keep it dry this time. I had my nice, close, but under-the-overhang seat again, so I was totally happy sitting and chatting and waiting out the rain. The Nats came back to win the game, and I and my 10 fellow Nat fans cheered.
Mark and I walked to this cool steak joint for dinner on the waterfront that kind of reminded me of the waterfront in Baltimore (the neighborhood, not the restaurant). I ate St. Louis style ribs that were so tender that the meat just fell off the bone. I am going to become such a rib snob!
We went to bed early and took a 10:30am flight home on Monday morning.

Meet Me in St. Louis (Day Two)

Second Day (I'm dividing these up because there's a lot to say). Mark and I slept late since Sophie and her Mark were going on a brewery tour with a couple of the players.
We had lunch at this really cute deli-ish place. One thing I really liked about St. Louis is the small town feel. There's no hustle and bustle like there is in DC and the people there were so nice! I fully expected to get yelled at or heckled for wearing Nationals garb, but no one said anything. Our waiter at lunch teased me good-naturedly, but other than that and the guys at the game Friday night, no one said boo. I don't think you would find that in a lot of other cities. I don't think you would get heckled in DC, just because there are fans of so many different teams here, but elsewhere, who knows.
That was another thing: there were only Cardinal fans. Here, you see fans of all sorts of teams. There, only the local team. Mark says that's because no one moves to St. Louis from other places but lots of people move to DC from other places. I guess New York City would be similar to here, while somewhere like Kansas City would be like St. Louis. Interesting, demographically. Everyone wears garb to the games! Here, you find maybe a third of the people in hats or jerseys or t-shirts. There, I would says 95% of the fans in the stadium had something on that said Cardinals. This one older lady even had a visor with a stuffed cardinal pasted on it! Totally cool.
Sophie and I ended up napping through the afternoon and meeting up before the game. We signed up to be organ donors--well, agreed to sign up to be organ donors when we got home--and got little Cardinals' towels. We had awesome seats again and this time, there were no annoying boys. We actually ended up sitting next to a woman who had been engaged to one of the Nationals pitchers, so we talked to her and her parents during the game. They were cool.
It started raining towards the end of the game, but our seats were under an overhang, so we didn't mind. In the bottom of the ninth with 2 outs, the Cardinals leading 8-6, and a Nats runner on first--the tying run at the plate, which meant the game was now "in question"--it started pouring. The grounds crew came racing onto the field, but the rain was coming down so hard that they could't even get the tarp over the infield! We had a lake--very exciting. But there was no sign of the rain stopping, and they had to finish the game. We were going to be there awhile. Everyone was huddled under the overhangs and in the concourses trying to stay dry.
Sophie left after about an hour since she had to pack to go home on Sunday morning, but I knew there was no way I was going anywhere.
After about two hours, the rain lets up enough for the groundscrew to start putting down this stuff called Diamond Dust, which is like super absorbant dirt, to try and dry out the infield so they can finish the game. It takes them maybe another hour to get the stuff all shoveled out and raked and smoothed, and then they pull the tarp back out to let the stuff soak up the huge puddles and not get MORE wet.
Finally, around 1 am, the players came back onto the field and everyone who was left in the stadium made a mad dash for the front row. What was incredible was that there was probably about 20,000 people left by this point. These fans take their baseball seriously.
Jesus Flores came to bat for the Nats. He ended up with a full count (3 balls, two strikes) and flied out to the first baseman to end the game. It was over in about three minutes. But I got to watch the last out from about two feet from the field.
I took a cab back to the hotel and then Mark arrived about an hour later. And that was Saturday.

Meet Me in St. Louis

is what the boyfriend said...hah hah...musical theater humor!
As some of you may know, I spent this past weekend in St. Louis. Boyfriend was there with the Nationals, so I got to go to three (count 'em THREE) Nationals-Cardinals games. I had the time of my life! SOOO much fun, even if there were two huge rain delays. But we won 2 out of 3 and took the series! Go Nats!
We arrived Friday morning and met up with another guy named Mark (the Nationals' media relations guy) and his girlfriend Sophie who I met at Spring Training. The Marks wnet off to work and Sophie and I headed down to The Arch. It's a very cool monument if you have never been. It is 660 feet tall and to get to the top you have to ride this elevator-ferris wheel-laundry dryer-contraption which was neat, but definitely not for the claustrophobic. Many cool views were seen from the top.
We tooled around the city for a while after that (stopped by the International Bowling Hall of Fame and Museum) and changed clothes for the ballgame. We had such a good time! We totally hit it off and found out we have a lot in common, which was really great since we were basically stuck with each other for the next two days and it would have stunk to find out we had nothing to discuss.
Friday night's game was very cool with excellent comp seats. We sat next to these guys who were Cards fans, so we, of course, we heckled them the entire game and left quite happily when the Nationals won! I ate a snow cone and nachos. We did the customary lap around the stadium in the middle of the game to check things out. I must say, Busch Stadium is really nice! The first thing that impressed me was how FULL it was! They had an attendance of 44,000. That's, like, two and a half Nats games. We have pathetic attendance at RFK. The stadium is also only a year old so everything looks new and clean, again unlike at RFK, which is about 100 years old. They have a Build-a-Bear Workshop where you can make your own stuffed Cardinal. How cute. They also have vending machines to buy sodas for, get this, $4.75! I thought the $1.25 at work was bad...RFK has better snow cones, though. The ice is shaved finer.
It's funny, I realized that I have never been to a ball game and cheered for the visiting team. Cheering for the Yankees (anywhere) doesn't count, because no matter where you are, with the exception of maybe Boston, the Yankee fans will outnumber the home team fans, so you still get those loud cheers. It was SO weird to be one of, maybe, 10 people clapping and cheering when the Nats scored or got a good hit. Definitely a different experience. I feel like I've been to an "away" hockey game, but I can't think of where, when or why I would have gone.
But we won Friday night, so that was cool. I got to explain baseball stuff to Sophie, which was also fun. Usually I'm the one who doesn't know stuff, so I felt very smart and informed.
Afterwards we went to this bar called Shannon's which is famous for being a Cardinals hang out. We didn't see any players, but our waiter looked like Jason Veritek. Sophie left around midnight and I waited for Mark and then he and I walked back to the hotel. The weather was beautiful after a quick afternoon sprinkle.

Rachel & Ryan Save the Nats

As some of you may know, the Nationals' starting pitcher John Patterson is a big techno fan. He listens to the music before he pitches. As some of you may also know, he's been in a huge slump of late, his last win being April 15, 2006. I had a chance to chat with him at Spring Training and took it upon myself to provide him with some new and awesome techno, knowing that I have friends who create such things. This past weekend, I gave Mark a bunch of CD that my friend Ryan mixed and Mark passed them along to Patterson. JP was very impressed with the music and was excited to get some new stuff before he pitched in San Diego.
Before last night's game, Mark saw Patterson listening to an iPod and said he suspected JP was listening to Ryan's music. Well, lo and behold, the Nats won and Patterson got the win!! After the game, JP told Mark that he did, indeed, listen to Ryan's music before the game.
So I think it's safe to say that Ryan and I have saved the Nats' season, or at least John Patterson's season.

We love him!

The Nats are 5-11 right now. This is what manager Manny Acta has to say about the team: "I love the way we're playing right now. The guys, they're giving all the effort they're supposed to. I love it. They're not giving up."
Go Manny!

Goooo NATS!

To put it bluntly, my baseball team stinks. They are worse than, well, anything I can think of to make a graphic analogy. Their record right now is 1-8. It's sad. But on the bright side, they don't stink as bad as the Orioles did in 1988 when Cal Ripken, Sr. was the manager and the O's went 0-21 in their first 21 games. After the first six games, the O's fired Ripken and hired--you guessed it--Frank Robinson, who managed--yes that's right--last year's Nats. Coincidence? I think not. Poor Robbie took that terrible luck from the O's and left it with the Nats.

So here's what I'm thinking: the Nats need to keep losing. If they start to win a game here or there, they become mediocre and that's boring. If they keep losing and keep losing BAD, it becomes interesting; it becomes newsworthy. They become those lovable losers, those wonderful underdogs who we desperately care about and want to win, but who just can't do it. They become (dare I make the comparison?) the Redskins.
My boyfriend says I have finally lost my childlike idealism and am thinking like a true jaded sports fan. Me, I'm just trying to think positive.
"Well, at least they're consistent," she responded when asked about her crummy team.

I say if we're gonna go down, let's go down in flames! Let's not just be bad, let's be historically bad. Let's not just stink, let's stink worse than last week's garbage! Let's see how few runs we can score! Let's see how many opposing pitchers we can give no hitters! How many other teams can we put in the record books? Someone's got to lose, why not us? Boost the egos of those other "bad" teams! Let them know what it feels like to be winners for a change! We'll raise the morale of the entire National League! Is your team feeling bad about their record? Just think, it could always be worse: you could be the Nationals.

Play Ball!

Opening Day was yesterday and I went to my first ever Opening Day game with my roommate. It was lots of fun; we got hats. The Nats got creamed 9-2 by the Marlins, but it was still a good time and I enjoyed the fact that I had something to be excited about--I have a sport to watch and a team to cheer for all season. Baseball has more games than hockey, so that's cool and it's cheaper to go to a baseball game and I can see my boyfriend at baseball games. Many good points--not to mention potential traveling with Mark to away games.
John Patterson did not pitch well, so obviously he did not listen to my friend's CD before the game (although Mark says that he did and that's why he pitched badly). Time to start giving him more CDs.
The Yankees won and the Red Sox lost so it was a good Opening Day overall (except for the Nats, but we don't count on them...)

Nick, Me, and The Bleacher Creatures

Mark introduced me to Nick Johnson while I was at Spring Training in Viera, FL. Before I met any ballplayers I had tried to think of something substantive to say, as opposed to, you know, "I'm a big fan!!" or something equally as vapid. So when Mark introduces me to Nick I ask him, "Do you used left-handed golf clubs?"
For those of you who don't know, I have held a real golf club exactly once in my entire life. That was the night that Mark took me to the driving range and attempted to teach me to play golf. I did okay. I also discovered that I am a left-handed golfer; and that golf-clubs, unlike pool sticks, are not ambidexterous. Nick Johnson is a southpaw (left-handed batter), thus my question to him.
He answers, "No, actually I use right-handed clubs unless I'm with someone who has left-handed clubs and I'm behind a tree or something and need to use one." We then go on to talk about how he used to be a switch hitter when he was younger, but now only bats and throws left. I explain my odd phenomenon of being right-handed, but playing sports left-handed. It's a phenomenon I don't understand either. Nick says he's not really sure which "handed" he is because he writes with his right hand, eats with his left, but kicks with his right foot. I am thoroughly amused.
Then I ask--Nick being a former New York Yankee--if he notices a difference between playing baseball in New York and DC. He kind of shrugs and says, "Well, I mean, Yankee Stadium is Yankee Stadium, but you know..." to which I respond, "Baseball is baseball wherever you play?" and he nods.
A radio announcer, Charlie Slowes, has been sitting next to Nick the whole time we are talking, and he starts talking about Tino Martinez (also a former Yankee) moving to Tampa Bay, and explaining how Tino didn't want to wave to the Bleacher Creatures when the Devil Rays were in New York because now he was a visiting player. At that moment, I made the startling connection between the "celebrity" world of professional baseball and my world of standing there in Florida having a conversation with "this guy" who happens to be Nick Johnson. I'm standing there, not two feet away from, and having a normal, regular conversation about golf clubs with this guy who used to get yelled to by the BLEACHER CREATURES in Yankee Stadium!! How cool did my world just become?
An additional aside: I got Nick to sign a baseball that I am going to give my dad for a birthday present.

Spring Training with the Nats!

I have just returned from Spring Training with the Nationals in sunny Viera, Fla. The team was still doing morning workouts while I was down there, so the fans had incredible access to the players. The guys work out on 4 practice fields and you can, literally, stand right behind the fences like you would for a high school game and watch them practice. They run back and forth between the fields and you can talk to them or get them to sign things. They walk into the complex every morning at 9am and you can just walk right in with them!
I got a chance to chat up John Patterson the starting pitcher who I found out likes techno music. I asked him what kind and he said he likes trance and hard-house. He mentioned Tiesto and I told him about my roommate who moved to Asheville for the trance scene. He thought that was cool.
Pictured below: John Patterson in foreground, with Manny Acta in background at third base.


I talked to Ray King, one of the new relievers briefly, and said good morning to bullpen pitcher/catcher Nilson Robledo every day. Mark said I had a "thing" going on with him and wanted to rough him up. I said I would pay money to see him try.

(#88..my new "friend"...yeah, I'd like to my boyfriend go up against him)

Mark introduced me to Nick Johnson the injured first baseman, and we talked about golf and Yankee Stadium (Nick is a former Yankee). That was very cool. I was also introduced to the GM Jim Bowden and Manny Acta the new manager. They were both very nice and shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. I met all of the writers and some of the Nats PR guys. I felt very important, as they all had heard about me, including Nick Johnson. How cool is THAT??
I had such a great time watching the practices and just being there amongst the players. I really felt like I was getting to see something that most fans don't. It was a much more intimate setting than I would have found at, say, Yankee camp because there were much fewer fans at Nats Camp. I suspect Yankee camp is probably a mob scene and that security is very tight.

Nats Online!

The Washington Times has a new Nats Weblog that my boyfriend is encouraging everyone to check out. It's pretty cool. He blogs.
Hooray! Baseball's back.

I'm in Phoenix

Today it was 75 and sunny. I played baseball in shots and a t-shirt and sweated. Take that Northern Virginia and your snowy winter weather! Did I mention I saw a cactus? Actually many of them.
The perks of dating a guy from Arizona are awesome.