TM is talking on his phone in the stairwell. He sees me coming and motions that I need to spread my legs further apart as I am coming down the stairs so he can see up my skirt. I oblige him and continue on my way. When I come back down, we have the following conversation:

TM: You need to take your panties off. There's too much in the way.

M: Oh yeah? You want me to?

TM: Mm-hmm. But where would you put them?

M: (THAT'S the concern here??) I don't know. I could just carry them.

TM: You COULD put them in there. (He points to the trashcan.)

M: But I like them. They're cute; they have a little bow on them. I could put them behind there (points to the radiator thing) and get them later.

TM: Yeah, do that.

M: Do you really want me to?

TM: No, you don't have to. You're getting all nervous.

[Ops Guy] walks in. TM reflexively lifts his phone as if he's on it, but then sees who it is and says hey to him. Ops Guy continues up the stairs.

TM: (slightly louder than necessary) Well, just think about ways we can do that and get back to me, okay?

M: (shaking my head) I'm coming right back. Will you wait?

TM: (nods)

BUT I am going to take a Player of the Month form ballot (or something) to Manager, so you know I am not about to take off my panties. When I walk back into the stairwell, TM perks up, and I just feel awful because I have to disappoint him. (Hah. I don’t feel awful at all. He is BAD!) 

M: They’re still on.

TM: Oh. I thought you were going to go take them off.

M: No, I was talking to [Manager]. I could come back down, later, if you’ll be out here.

TM: Well…I gotta go to a meeting. 

I go back down once more, just because, and TM is there. He stands up and motions me into the correct position so he can see, but I giggle and almost don’t do it, because I am self-conscious and I do not feel sexy. I mean, he knows exactly what’s there, but still. Anyway, I manage to make a pass, but I rush it. Later he says, "I saw," and he grins.

 

During the game, I head down to talk to my sports reporter friend. Predictably, we talk about the players, specifically TM, because he always comes up, always. He and [Big Leaguer] are sitting at the end of the dugout. She says, "Yeah, they're totally staring at us." Of course, we are staring at them. I wonder what they are talking about. I have no idea what to make of [Big Leaguer]. He has a WAG (I'm not sure which, lol, so WOG but whatever). He apparently is religious and attends the team Bible study on the road. Sometimes he seems nice to me. Sometimes he mocks me. Sometimes he seems very standoffish. I don’t get him.

 

After the game, won by the Redbirds, I walk out behing [Infielder], who is mobbed by a group of little leaguers. The next day, our press box attendant reports that the guy covering for our local beat writer, has been informed of Beat Writer’s vendetta against [Infielder] and is in support because [Infielder] was mean to him. Apparently, he answered a question and then asked, "Is that good enough for you? Will that work?" Now, I don’t know what tone he used, but this does not seem inherently mean. I can see [Infielder] asking that and genuinely meaning it. He is West Coast, so it might not seem like nice Southern hospitality drawl, but that doesn't mean he was being mean about it. People try to see the worst in him, and I try to see the best in him, and I guess he probably falls somewhere in the middle.