Watching Team USA play the Yankees at Steinbrenner Field was enjoyable but weird. It felt as if we had loaned Jeter and his Captain-ness out for an All Star game.
And what to make of Brett Gardner and his relentlessly hot bat? He has worked his way into my subconscious and is even starting to show up in my dreams.
Then there was the news that A-Rod bolted from the Dominican team after their exhibition game and flew to Vail, Colorado. The reason? No, not a quick ski trip. The problem, apparently, is this.
I know. The photo looks a lot like a porterhouse, all marbled and fatty, but it’s actually an X-ray of a hip with a cyst. See the cyst right there in the middle? That’s what A-Rod has. So he’s off to consult a doctor named Marc Phillipon.
Yes, you’d be smiling too if you were “one of the world’s leading orthopedic surgeons,” which is how Dr. Phillipon is described on his web site – or, should I say, the web site of the facility where he’s a partner. It’s called the Steadman-Hawkins Clinic. And, no, it’s not named for this man.
The clinic promotes a product line of nutrients and vitamins called “Liquissentials.”
One can only hope that whatever is in them is not banned by Major League Baseball.
Speaking of which, I was settling into my chair tonight to catch the MLB Network’s roundup of the day’s news. Harold Reynolds and the guys were about to discuss the latest in the Dodgers-Manny soap opera when suddenly my TV screen went blank.
And then I heard a man’s voice yell, “Fernando Vina? What the f**k!”
The man was not my husband, either.
Obviously, there was a malfunction in the studio, and somebody F-bombed on national television. Uh-oh. Will there be a fine? A suspension? A public reprimand followed by a tearful apology?
If so, I’ll probably miss it. I’ll be on a plane to Florida, en route to spring training in Tampa and my signing at Barnes & Noble. I don’t like to fly, as anyone who’s read my book already knows, so please send happy thoughts for a flight with no mechanical problems, no flock of geese anywhere near the engines, and no bad plane wine.