There aren’t enough guys like him in the big leagues. Before I came here, people told him I was an arrogant prick—that if things didn’t go well I would burn you. I was in a bad state of mind last year. But he was open and honest with me, and I explained myself, and he let me prove I’m a good guy in the clubhouse. Guys like me? We give everything we have. It is Labor Day and Michael doesn’t feel like celebrating. He is sneezing and hacking. I say he should skip today’s game and rest so his cold doesn’t blossom into anything worse. He protests at first—“This is the beginning of an important series against the Mariners!”—but caves after another sneezing attack. My sister is happy to be his surrogate. We meet at the 86th Street subway station about noon and ride to the Bronx together. We make an unlikely pair. She has short dark hair and a normal woman’s figure. I have long blond hair and am shaped like a pencil. When we arrive at the Stadium, I point skyward.
What do You think about Confessions Of A She-Fan (2009)?
