Last night, I was home with Gabe, while the One True Wife and Middle Daughter were out running errands. Gabe was decompressing by watching some awful movie on the Disney Channel; I was upstairs in the kitchen, trying to learn Hebrew.
My cell phone kept ringing. It was upstairs. I think of my cell phone as an office appurtenance. I don't want to have to run for it at home. Try me at home first. Then, if you can't reach me and you really need to, try the cell. Damn, intrusive thing. Buzzing like some fly trapped in a jar. I hate you. Bring me some good news, for once.
Gabe was getting ready for bed, and I went up and checked the White Sox score. The web site said Mark Buehrle was through 8 innings of no-hit ball. I checked my cell phone. It was my sister (#3, who's getting married this weekend); she'd been trying to reach me to tell me what was going on. Gabe and I ran downstairs and turned on the TV.
Watching that last inning was like watching the last out of the '05 World Series. Everyone was on their feet, hollering, the steam coming out of their mouths and fogging the air. The batters looked fierce, determined -- and scared. Mark Buehrle later said his knees were trembling during the last two innings.
I remember the last White Sox no-hitter, in 1991. I was in the most miserable period of my life, and I was in my tiny studio apartment as a rookie pitcher from Venezuela named Wilson Alvarez bewildered the Baltimore Orioles for nine innings. Watching him do that made me feel good. It revived me. How else can I explain it?
After Joe Crede, the White Sox third baseman, fielded a slow roller and threw out the runner for the last out, the Sox players mobbed Buehrle; Gabe and I hooted and hollered. A cloud had been lifted. This psycho chump with his guns in his hands and his chips on his shoulders and his video cameras had nothing on us. He's gone; we're not. We got to see a little slice of immortality unfurl last night.
Things that make us feel good without hurting anybody else -- those things matter.
To me and Gabe, anyway, last night mattered.
--T.A.
Treated about the cell phone- sorry- love you-
mar
Posted by: Mar | April 20, 2007 at 06:48 AM