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    Friday, March 24, 2006
    Bye Bye Bronson
    My life, of late, has been chaotic at best. Losing one job, starting another. Trying to balance work life, social life, and alone time. It’s been hard.

    So too, it seems for the Sox. I’ve written before about my seeming unattachment to Johnny Damon. That has only increased since reading the New York Times article yesterday on what a changed guy he’s become (I’d link to it, but it’s password protected since it’s a day old). It’s impossible to even try to guess at Damon’s true demeanor.

    I’m a more emotional baseball fan than I am a statistical one. I still mourn the loss of Mark Bellhorn, and I’ll forever wear my Bill Mueller t-shirt proudly and not just because I am pumped that I can fit into a child’s medium.

    For this reason, Bronson Arroyo’s departure from the Red Sox has been a move of mixed emotions for me. I will always love him as one of the twenty-five, but those who know baseball better than I do are all telling me what a great move this was for the team. But I feel badly for Bronson. If you listen to his agent and to the many sports columnists who love drumming up drama during the off-season, Arroyo took a “hometown discount” to stay with the Sox to stay with a team he loved, the team I love, only to have that contract used to make him more attractive to other teams as trade bait.

    But here’s my take on that. Baseball is a business. Damon only solidified that in the minds of Sox fans. None of us – not even those members of the press who fancy themselves on the inside, know exactly what went down in those contract meetings. We don’t know what kind of assurances Arroyo was given, if any.

    I just have to trust that those guys – Theo, Bed, Jed, et al. know a hell of a lot more about their team than I do. If they didn’t, I’d be on their payroll, which clearly isn’t the case. To many, this may seem like a cop out answer to the “How do you feel about Arroyo leaving” question that has been posed to me by so many people. But to be honest, I’ve never felt comfortable in the debates of the off-season. The arguments are based on past performances and a few innings in spring training games in which guys rarely are in game-ready shape.

    In season, I’ll question a managers moves with the best of them. Why run a hit-and-run in such and such an inning on this and that count with so and so at bat. Years of playing ball keeps me comfortable in those kinds of judgments. But until then, I’ll let the Sox front office deal with who’s on first and I’ll try to get my life in order enough that when opening day comes around, my boss won’t mind when I ask to take half the day off.

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    posted by FINY @ Friday, March 24, 2006   10 comments
    Wednesday, March 08, 2006
    The Things I Can't Ask
    When you live in New York for almost four years you become accustomed to people asking you for change. It happens on the subways, in front of stores, on random street corners. There’s one guy on the R line who recites poetry, there’s a singing trio on the L, the list goes on and on. Mainly you tune them out. Or quickly appraise that your change isn’t actually going to help certain people do anything other than buy their next jug of cheap vodka. Rarely these days does anyone get past the steely New York exterior that is created by my look at the ground and listen to my iPod mentality.

    But as with most stories, there is always the exception. She stands by my subway stop in Brooklyn almost daily. To the point that when she’s not there, when she disappears for days at a time, I find myself worrying about her. She’s five feet tall tops, though her rounded shoulders and hung head make her seem much smaller. Even wrapped up in multiple layers of clothing she is clearly very thin. And her age, though most likely brought on by what looks like years on the streets, has got to be somewhere closer to my grandparents than my parents.

    “ Can you spare some change, please?” The voice is small, sweet, and full of humiliation. Everything about her suggests that she is genuinely humiliated by her situation. She never looks passerby in the eyes. She stares directly at the ground, shoulders drooping. Her skin is ashen, instead of a consistent chocolate color it is almost as if her skin is trying to match the gray color of her hair.

    I’ve taken to gathering the change from my wallet and transferring it to my pocket just before my subway stop. If it happens to be one of the days she is not there, I transfer it right back, waiting for the chance to see her again. I don’t know how, or why, I’ve taken such an interest in this woman, but I have. There are a thousand things I want to talk to her about. I want to know her name, for one. I want to know how she became homeless, where her family is, where she stays at night. I want to talk to her when I see her, instead of just handing her my change and smiling at her as she tells me “God Bless you, have a wonderful everyday”. I want to get to know this woman, and I can’t figure out how.

    It’s so tricky, it would be a tough line to walk. Not wanting to come off as thinking I am higher than she is, but not wanting to make it seem as if I think we are kindreds in some way, as her situation is clearly unimaginable to me. One of these days I am going to gather enough courage to introduce myself, to at least have something to call her other than the Sweet Homeless Lady. But for now – I’ll just keep my change ready, and hope that my measly $1.50 can help her get some food.

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    posted by FINY @ Wednesday, March 08, 2006   11 comments
    Thursday, March 02, 2006
    Quick post since I am a little drunk at the moment. So a while back (read: I don’t actually know the date but it was Spring of last year sometime) my friend Ryan and I decided to get engaged. He very sweetly proposed to me by melting a stirrer together at a bar one night. See, Ryan is originally from England and needed hi visa. Well back at my birthday in july Ryan mentioned that he had a birthday gift for me, but since then I had heard nothing about it. Below is a picture of the best birthday present/engagement ring(s) of all time. Who cares that the Sox lost their first Spring Training game tonight? It’s spring training and only two of our potential starters were in the line-up. My hang says SOX baby!

    • I should note here that I am a little wasted. Oh well!!! :)

    edit: picture fixed, embarassing drunken post left as is.

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    posted by FINY @ Thursday, March 02, 2006   5 comments
    About Me

    Name: FINY
    Home: New York, New York, United States
    About Me: Just a New England girl trying to make it in NYC. Email me at: soxfaninnyc [at] gmail [dot] com
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