A Head Expanding NY Moment

Is there such a word as "surreality?"

That was my experience last Thursday and then again yesterday in hazy, hot, humid, and horrible New York City. One of those bizarre life moments. Both times I was in virtually the same place. Right outside of JFK in my rented gas-guzzling SUV on some clogged road that connects the airport to the Van Wyck Expressway. Or maybe it was the Van Wyck Expressway? I no longer can tell one rutted road from another in Gotham City. And, on the radio, I was tuned to NY sports talk radio, because that's the truest form of human anger. Vinny from Ozone Park calling in to announce to over 10 million people that, in his opinion, Met Manager Jerry Manuel is a moron. As I listen, I flash back to my days of youth when I would call into the Mets' flagship station from the 60s, WJRZ, and pepper post-game host Bob Brown with some inane trade proposals in the hope that I would rewarded a DQ Dilly Bar for my stupidity. Tuning to NY sports talk radio allows me to touch base with both the present, the past, and, apparently, the insane.

And, then, last Thursday, I'm hearing ESPN host Michael Kay do a live read of a commercial. He's hawking some commemorative books about Shea Stadium and Yankee Stadium, as both ball parks wind down their life spans. And he's talking about the famous sportswriters included in these tomes with their various essays on the cherished histories of these ball yards. They sound interesting to me. Until I remember...

I'm one of the writers in the Shea book!

Holy shit! They are selling these suckers for 20 or 25 bucks and I'm in there with my article, "The Saturday Plan," which chronicles my life as a Saturday ticket plan holder of the Loge Level of Shea.

I'm not an egotistical sort, but I actually felt my head getting bigger. And my hair started to hurt as a result.

After many, many, many years, I was finally a sportswriter. And that, along with being a veterinarian, was one of my first ever desired career choices. Of course, I moved on, primarily because I couldn't give a rat's ass about any sport other than baseball. But, there I am now, alongside Maury Allen and Steve Jacobson.

And just when I thought I couldn't be a bigger pompous ass, I experienced another ego stroke on the way to JFK yesterday. This time around, this midday guy on ESPN Radio was doing the same live read. And he was talking about one of the articles being written by some guy who sat in the same Shea seats for 40 years.

Holy shit again! And, by the way, it's 41 years.

Nevertheless, I didn't need a plane to fly to LA later that day. While I've certainly had my writing recognized before in a variety of forums, this is the first time I've ever focused on baseball. A game I've loved. In seats that I adored. In a stadium with a team that was my life blood.

These books just hit the stands, so please indulge me. And yourself, because they are quite entertaining. I've seen and heard a variety of prices attached. $19.95 at Universal Newsstands in Manhattan and Exxon On The Go Gas Stations in the NY metro area. Spend $300 to fill up and then another 20 bucks for some cool memories. They will go well with a Diet Coke and a Slim Jim, which you can also conveniently pick up at the same Exxon outlet.

Or you can go on-line at pressboxlegends.com. If you want your books signed by either Don Mattingly or Tom Seaver, it will cost you 95 bucks.

If you want me to sign one, it will cost you nothing.

Dinner last night: Pasta with sundried tomatoes and Kalamata olives.