Friday, September 15, 2006

this is it, this is really happening

I’ve been dutifully following the Magic Number, and making TBF explain it to me and having me explain it back to him for what seems like forever.  I understood it well enough to explain it back to one of my seatmates (one of the sisters) the last time we were at Shea.

But now, that time has come to an end.

Last night, watching the Braves and the Phillies. TBF starting to root for the Braves, until he caught himself.

Putting the game on mute while I did some work sitting on the couch. I look up.
“4-1. Final.”
“That’s it, then.”

Down to 1. One.

And tonight it could be down to zero.

Riding the subway this morning, reading the newspapers over people’s shoulders, getting indulgent smiles when people spot my necklace. Getting to work, and having one of our designers, who is so far from sports or baseball as it could possibly be, try to start talking about the Magic Number to me. (She is going to help me design a logo and do some work on the site, so she has been spending time looking at the blog and mets.com.)
“I was reading over someone’s shoulder on the train. I wanted to remember so I could walk in here this morning and say, ‘So, I hear the Magic Number is down to 2’”
“It’s down to 1, actually, but that’s sweet.” I am touched.

All I can think is: how odd is this? This is not how it works, right? It’s almost not fair, me coming in so late to the party, and being so richly rewarded. It’s not like I expected this, you know - in fact, I expected quite the opposite - but it almost feels like I’m not entirely entitled to crash your party. I would resent me. I’m the girl who started listening to your favorite band right before they became big - so you can’t entirely resent me - but it’s because of people like me your favorite band now plays bigger places or the smaller places they keep trying to play are too crowded.

Oops. Sorry. Guilty as charged.

Selfishly I was wishing for rain in Pittsburgh, or that something happens tonight and somehow we don’t win, just because I wanted to be there tomorrow night and see them celebrate on the field for myself. We were going to bring signs and feather boas and little bottles of champagne, but instead we’re down to my vintage 1986 satin jacket (picked up on eBay last winter - TBF chuckles every time he sees it, recalling that his best friend had one when they were kids) and my brand-spanking-new Jose Reyes jersey.

That’ll do.