Confessions of a She-Fan Read Online Free PDF Page A

1, we kick Texas around 10–1. Phil Hughes throws a no-hitter going into the seventh for his first major league victory but leaves the game with a hamstring injury. Can you catch hammies the way you catch herpes? And Damon is out with a back problem. The guy is going all Carl Pavano on us.
    May 2 is my birthday, and the game is rained out, which means I am forced to actually celebrate my big day by leaving the house. Michael takes me to the Plow & Angel at the posh San Ysidro Ranch in Montecito. The waiters bring out a dessert with a candle on top and sing “Happy Birthday” to me. I am mortified because I am not the type who enjoys being sung to by waiters and because I am at that age where it is not a huge thrill to be another year older. Forget what all those rah-rah baby boomer women say about how great it is to have wisdom and experience and disposable income. I would rather have fewer wrinkles and perkier tits.
    We play a doubleheader on May 3 to make up for the rained-out game, and we win both contests. Pettitte gets the victory in the opener, and Mussina, just activated from the DL, allows only one run over five innings. I take back the nasty things I said about him, but I wish I could warm to him. He is serious whenever he is on TV, kind of sourpussy. I wonder if he bows from the waist during sex, the way he bows out of the stretch.

    We are home for a four-game set against Seattle this weekend, and the results are mixed. The Friday-night game on May 4 is an abomination. We lose 15–11, and the Mariners have 20 fucking hits. I boo the TV. Michael boos, too, and he hardly ever boos the TV. We rebound with an 8–1 victory on Saturday, with Wang missing a perfect game by only five outs. Sunday’s game involves a near-brawl after the Mariners bean Josh Phelps for his hard slide into Johjima, their catcher, and Proctor returns the favor by throwing behind Betancourt. Darrell Rasner and four relievers combine for a four-hit shutout, and the Yankees win. But the big event is the announcement during the seventh-inning stretch that Roger Clemens, who speaks to the masses from George’s private box like the pope, will return to the Yankees in late May/early June.
    I am conflicted about the Rocket’s return. I don’t blame the Yanks for wanting reinforcements. But why bring back a guy with a history of groin problems and hammy problems and God knows what else? He is old in pitcher years. Besides, we threw him a farewell tour when he was retiring 2 years ago, only to have him unretire and play for the Astros. What kind of scumbag does that to the Yankees? What kind of slimy, ungrateful worm leaves and then comes crawling back?
AL EAST STANDINGS/MAY 6
    TEAM
W
L
PCT
GB
BOSTON
20
10
.667
—
NEW YORK
14
15
.483
5.5
BALTIMORE
14
17 .
452
6.5
TAMPA BAY
14
17
.452
6.5
TORONTO
13
18
.419
7.5

Week 6 May 7, 2007
    I hated Roger Clemens from playing against him. Couldn’t stand the guy. But he made us better. He made us believe in ourselves. He gave little pep talks to individual players. Like to Bobby, he said, “When I faced you in Philly, you were the toughest out in the league. Where is that guy?” He would challenge you, but he would be behind you.
    While I wait for Clemens to take his spot in the rotation, I am saddled with more rookies. The latest is Matt DeSalvo, no relation to Albert DeSalvo, the Boston Strangler, as far as I know. He only allows a run in the May 7 finale against the Mariners, but Mo serves up a homer to Beltre in the ninth and takes the loss. I love Mo and can’t imagine my Yankee fan life without him, but I love him more when he strikes batters out with his rising cutter. At least Igawa is out of the picture now. He is sent down to Class A Tampa to learn how to pitch here in America. He is in danger of becoming the next Hideki Irabu. George will not call him a fat pussy toad because Howard Rubenstein is speaking for him these days, but I am thinking that a