Note to all ballplayers attempting a career in the majors: if you've been watching an umpire call a wild strike zone all night, you're known as a "home-run hitter," bases are loaded, you're two runs down, and there are two outs at the end of the ninth inning...YOU ALWAYS SWING AT THE BALL!
But that's the way the story ended. Now, let me tell you how it began.
It all started in a cow pasture in Cooperstown, NY. The year was 1839, and the bases were steaming piles of....
Eh, maybe we should skip forward a little.
The story I want to tell you is how I, a lifelong O's fan with a minor affinity for the Mets (thanks to the
That is, of course, if group therapy is supposed to be a good thing.
It all started Tuesday night when I accepted a drinks-date with Jeff. Just a casual thing that was a bit of a relief after the whole Friday night minor-drama.
Wednesday, I called Ben to get his email address for a friend who's looking for a new job (she's fabulous if you're hiring). While we were on the phone, he mentioned the game. Granted, we weren't sure there was even going to be a Game 7, but, like me, Ben likes to keep his options open. Long story short, there was a Game 7.
This then posed an "interesting" problem for me. See, while I had accepted the ticket to the game (and I had promised to pay for it), I didn't have:
- A place to stay in NYC
- The necessary time off of work
- Any clue how I was going to get out of my date with Jeff.
Problem #2 was the easiest to manage. I walked out of the office, promised my boss I'd make up the time I needed, and scored his agreement that I could work from "home" today. Yes, I'm in NY and my sister's firewall isn't exactly letting me get into the files that I need to actually accomplish anything, but my coworker sent me a few things, and I'm doing a lot of thinking. That works, right?
Problem #3 also seemed easy. I sent Jeff this fabulous little email saying that while I'd totally love to go out with him, it was a once in a lifetime (I'm an O's fan, remember) opportunity that I couldn't pass up. I figured it he was any sort of a guy I wanted to see again, he'd go along with it. And he did.
Problem #1 proved to be the hardest. Julia is committed to not having her house turned into "Hotel Charles," and while I respect that, I do have an open invitation from her fabulous roommate. The problem, however, was Ben. Julia didn't know who he was (she does now), and didn't want him staying at the house. Since I couldn't find a place for him to stay, the whole plan was almost abandoned. Which caused a couple of emails to be sent back to Jeff.
- Email #1: Was the one I mentioned earlier.
- Email #2: Was the one I asked Julia to send when she told me that Ben couldn't stay and then Ben decided that it would probably be "easier" if we bagged the trip altogether. I don't have access to my Gmail, so I thought I'd see if I could reschedule with Jeff.
- Email #3: Was the one Julia sent after I convinced her Ben could stay. I needed to cancel again (obviously).
Truth be told, I probably was better off staying in Baltimore. See, every time I get together with Ben, he forgets that we're not dating and tries to get me to kiss him. He's a nice guy, but NO. And the more he throws himself at me, the more that I realize that I want nothing to do with him. I'm going to give him a cooling-off period and then contact him around Christmas.
Funniest part of the evening happened on the train on the way home. Gotta love that post-game zone-out, right? I was sandwiched between a bunch of boys on the 7 when one of them starts bitching about it not being an "Express Train." I turn around and go, "There is no express train; there is only ZOOOOL." Didn't realize I was being loud, but apparently I was. Look for me, on Overheard in NY sometime this fall.
So, kids, no more baseball until the spring. Since the Mets, the O's and the Red Sox are completely out of it, there's no reason to watch the Series. I'll be back in February with a new Baseball Blog, so stay tuned!
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