Confessions of a She-Fan (6 page)

Ellen loves the proposal
and sends it to publishers, asking them to respond quickly since the All-Star break is approaching and she would like to have a deal in place by then. While I wait to hear, I watch the Yankees get swept by the Rockies in Colorado. The Rockies! What is with these guys? Just when there is a glimmer of hope that they are not dead after all, they pull crap like this.

On Friday they move on to San Francisco, where they lose two of three to the Giants and become participants in the Barry Bonds circus. In the first game, which the Yankees win 7–3, Bonds hits his 749th homer off Proctor and is only six away from tying Aaron's record. In the second game, Proctor again figures prominently, taking the loss in a 6–5 defeat in 13 innings. The 7–2 loss to the Giants on Sunday hasabout1minuteofdrama. Clemens comes in to relieve Mussina in the seventh and faces Bonds. It is a showdown between two gunslingers, except that both are past their prime. The only question is whether
Clemens will throw a strike to Bonds or walk him. He walks him. Drama over. So are the Yankees. They lose five of six and are sinking fast.

The Yanks land in Baltimore
for three games against the Orioles. They lose game one on Tuesday by the score of 3–2. Pettitte pitches well, but Proctor starts the ninth and walks in the winning run.
Walks in the winning run
. There is never an excuse for that. Joe has overused Proctor, and his arm is hanging by a thread, but what is so fucking hard about throwing strikes?

The O's shut out the Yankees in Wednesday's game. Erik Bedard makes it look easy, as opposed to Roger Clemens, whose fatigued groin fails to get a strikeout for the first time in over 200 starts. Thursday's contest ends in a suspension of play due to rain, with the Yankees up 8–6 in the top of the eighth. The game will be resumed on July 27,the next time the Yankees are in Baltimore.

While I wait to hear about the book, I pass the time reading Peter Abraham's blog on LoHud.com, the Web site offshoot of the
Journal News
in Westchester. Almost all the Yankee beat writers have blogs, but Peter actually gives you dishy, behind-the-scenes stuff. I can't go 2 hours without checking to see what he has to say.

On Friday the Yankees open a home stand against Oakland. They beat the A's 2–1—only their second win in nine games. Mussina pitches seven strong innings, but Farnsworth takes the mound in the eighth and gives up back-to-back singles. Joe replaces him with Mo. Farnsworth storms into the dugout and hurls his glove against the wall like a 5-year-old.

Saturday's game is a shutout by the A's. The Yankees manage only one hit. Igawa, back up from the farm, gives up three homers, and Proctor and Myers are responsible for the rest of the damage.

I don't get this 2007 team, I really don't.

Michael is finished with his assignment in LA, and it is good to have him back. But now he is busy on his computer Photoshopping every single shot he took. He is not present even though he is home, the way I am not present when I am watching the Yankees on TV. I put on makeup and something sexier than my sweats and sashay into his office.

“Hi,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. “How about a little break?”

“Not now,” he says in the same tone I use when A-Rod is up with men on base and I can't look away.

I sigh and leave him to his photographs.

On Sunday the Yankees finish up their series against Oakland with an 11–5 loss at the Stadium. Pettitte is just plain awful. Regarding the continuing sideshow that is Alex Rodriguez, his wife, Cynthia, takes her seat in the players' family section and places her 2-year-old daughter, Natasha, on her lap. She is wearing a tight-fitting white tank top—one of those designer shirts with a message on the back. Usually they say Zen things on them like “Breathe” and “Simplify” and that old standby “Peace.” Not C-Rod's. Her shirt says “Fuck you.” The parents of small children sitting nearby on this summer Sunday afternoon are offended. Several alert the security guards who regularly patrol Yankee Stadium in search of people wearing, carrying, or yelling obscenities; such people are routinely ejected. Not C-Rod. Throwing out the wife of the team's home-run king is tricky. But the
New York Post
has no compunction about putting Cynthia and her tank top on the back page of the next day's paper with the headline: “Mrs. A-Rod Is a Bronx F-Bomber.” They also ask the question I can't help but ask, which is: Why? Is Mrs. A-Rod saying “Fuck you” to the fans who
booed her husband last year, particularly in the postseason? Is she saying “Fuck you” to the Yankees, who have stated that they will not negotiate with her husband if he opts out of his contract and becomes a free agent at the end of the season? Is she saying “Fuck you” to the media who exposed her husband's adulterous behavior? Is she saying “Fuck you” to the stripper who went lap dancing with her husband? Or is she saying “Fuck you” to her husband? Maybe she is the one who wants a divorce.

The Yankees begin a four-game series
at home against the Twins on Monday and win three out of four. Clemens gets win number 350 in game one. Game two marks the debut of the latest call-up, Edwar Ramirez, who is wiry, wears Malcolm X glasses, and throws a mean changeup. Johan Santana overmatches Mussina on Wednesday. And Matsui hits a two-run homer that wins the game on Thursday.

Everyone in publishing is away for the July 4 holiday, so I don't hear any news about the book. But I write another essay for the
New York Times
, in which I say I am holding off on the divorce from the Yankees and instead going to couples counseling to talk about them. Tom Jolly says he will run it in Sunday's sports section, and I am thrilled. I am a sportswriter at last, albeit one whose style is more Bridget Jones than Harvey Araton. The piece is meant to let people know that I still love the team with all my heart. It is not as convincing as a book would be, but it is a start.

The Yankees host the Angels again on July 6, 7, and 8—the last weekend before the All-Star break.

In the first game, Pettitte gives up eight runs for the second straight time. But A-Rod hits his 29th homer of the season and his 493rd overall, tying Lou Gehrig and Fred McGriff, and the Yankees win 14–9. Posada has three RBIs of his own, and I have to say he is having a career year, both offensively and behind the plate. He doesn't seem as hotheaded as he was a few years ago when he had that fight with El Duque in the dugout. He is more of a leader now. He even has his own cool nickname: JoPo.

The Yankees lose the Saturday contest 2–1 in 13 innings, spoiling Clemens's one-run performance. They continue to be up and down, sending me on a roller-coaster ride. Roller coasters make me nauseous.

My
New York Times
article runs on Sunday, and I get lots of e-mails about it. I don't win people over about being a true fan. They take the essay literally and tell me it is about time I went into therapy.

As for the finale against the Angels on the 8th, the Yankees win it 12–0. Wang throws almost seven scoreless innings and the bats come alive. Matsui, Cano, and A-Rod all hit three-run homers.

It's nice that the Yanks end the first half of the season on a high note. It will be even nicer if I get the book deal and can congratulate them in person. I will walk right over to, say, JoPo. I will shake his hand and introduce myself and tell him what a fabulous catcher he is. He will thank me for coming all the way from California and promise that the team will play good baseball now that I have joined the party. We will have a long, heart-to-heart conversation, and I will put every word in my book.