[Roommate] and I are chatting, after work, and I say I want to go to the Dixie Chicks concert next week. She says she could probably help me buy a ticket, if I wanted. I say no, because I don’t really want to go alone, and I was hoping that my friend who had tickets would end up with an extra. And then things got interesting.

R: I wonder if NSG still has his tickets. ... He’s in Houston right now, you know.

M: Oh.

R: He e-mailed me yesterday. He’s been hanging out with K.

M: Ohhh...

R: Yeah.

M: What’s he been doing with K?

R: I don’t know. It’s interesting, though, because she doesn’t usually leave real early, and especially this week, with the All-Star stuff going on, but, yeah, 6:00 and she’s out the door. ... He’s probably hanging out with [his nieces], too. [Ticket office guy]'s pissed because NSG never e-mailed him back. 

M: Yeah, what’s going on with him? I mean, I don’t see why he can’t just send an e-mail or something, and I mean, I thought we were pretty good friends, and... 

R: Did you ever e-mail him? Did he respond? 

M: I sent him one, and he wrote back, very general, very generic, and then a couple weeks later, I sent him another one saying, you know, I’d like to e-mail you once in a while, but not if it’ll bother you, and he didn’t respond, so I guess that’s my answer. 

R: Heh. I think K’s the only one who knows what the deal is. 

M: You know what? I don’t even need that. If he wants to tell us, well, great, but I just need a mass e-mail, or something, that just says, "Hey, here’s what’s going on..." 

R: Yeah, I don’t really get it, either, why he can’t talk to us. 

M: What would you do if I told you something you didn’t want to hear? 

R: Uh... Like what? I don’t know. Would it make me nervous? 

M: No, not nervous...it shouldn’t make you nervous...it might make you question my moral character. 

R: <nervous laugh> You have to tell me, now. Now I want to know. 

M: But I don’t know how you’ll react. ... I haven’t told you for a year.

R: But you told me a year ago?

M: No, it happened a year ago.

R: ... Is it about NSG? 

M: Yes... 

R: It’s about NSG, and it might make me question your moral character? ... Did you sleep at his house? Kiss him? 

M: Um, well, yes...and yes. 

R: Oh. Was there more? 

M: Yes. 

R: Did it only happen once? 

M: Well, no. 

R: When was it? Was it when I was on the road? 

M: No, it was...do you remember that night, last June, that I didn’t come home? 

R: I think so. That seems so long ago. Did anything else happen since then? 

M: No. We just had several awkward and uncomfortable conversations. 

R: So that’s why it bothers you so much [that he won’t talk to you]. 

M: Heh. Yeah. 

R: Well, I mean, it didn’t mean anything, right? Was there anything meaningful? 

M: It meant more to me than it did to him, but we knew that. ... And you know how I can’t get over things, and he would never say, you know, that he didn’t want anything. He would just say that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, or that he didn’t know what was going to happen. At first, I didn’t really want to tell you, because I didn’t know how you’d react, and he said, "Don’t tell [Roommate]"— 

R: Well, YEAH. 

M: But then later, I did kind of want to tell you, like when I got really upset when he started dating every single woman in Houston except me. Then he asked me if I’d told you, and I said no, and then I asked him why he hadn’t told you, since you were best friends and all. He said it was a work thing, and he didn’t want to tell you because he had to work with you, but since we were roommates, then I should tell you. 

R: He said you should tell me? 

M: Not exactly. Just that it was the sort of thing that roommates should tell each other. 

R: You could’ve told me earlier this year, when he and I weren’t so close anymore. Because he got closer to [Friend], and then you would go chat with him, and I wondered why he could have close, personal conversations with you. 

M: <shrugs> Well... I just figured that I could tell you now, since you don’t work together anymore. 

R: And I might never see him again.  

M: That’s also why I don’t really like hearing everybody talk about him and K. 

R: I don’t think they’re like that. I’ve never thought that. 

M: Well, I didn’t think so, either, but everybody else does, and I don’t trust myself in that regard. But, I mean, I didn’t think there was anything between them from the beginning. When we all went out, after the 2001 season, someone asked NSG if he and K had hooked up, and I was just shocked, because it had never occurred to me. 

R: What did he say? Did he say they’d done it? 

M: No. ... It always seemed to me like they were better suited to be best friends, but like I said, I don’t trust myself. 

R: No, that’s what I think, too. And the two of them, they’re both too independent or something. I don’t know. ... So...did he make all the advances, or was it you, too? 

M: Do you really think I would make an advance? 

R: Well, I didn’t know, I mean, if you just went along with it... 

M: It all started that night that Miami played for the national championship, and you were in Orlando. And we were drinking, and [Friend's GF] said, "NSG’s drunk, and he can’t drive home," so then... 

R: The night he slept here?? 

M: Yeah. We got home, and I was like, "You can sleep on the couch," and he said, "Come up here with me," so I did, and then we went back to my bed. Then we went to lunch and talked about it, because I was freaking out, and he said, "You know, I’ve been attracted to you since [ex] and I broke up." 

R: Oh, wow. 

M: But then he was upset, and he thought it was weird, because he was older, and I used to work for him. That bothered him. And then we talked about it, and we kind of got back to where we were, and it was okay, and it wasn’t awkward, but then Kristen came, in May, and she knew, and he said some things, and then, yeah. 

R: But it never went all the way, right? 

M: ... 

R: Oh. Ohh! <claps her hand over her mouth> It wasn’t on my couch, was it? 

M: No. <giggles> I knew you’d ask that. It wasn’t. 

R: I’d be like, "Eww." <makes a face> So, Kristen, and Lynsey, and me [know]. And NSG. 

M: Oh, and he told B. 

R: I always wondered about that. 

M: About what? 

R: How he acted with B. Because she kissed him, too. 

M: Yeah...he said that didn’t mean anything. 

R: Well, thanks for telling me. 

M: Yeah. I can’t look at you now. 

R: We’ll watch a movie.

It was [New Guy]’s birthday. I make red velvet cake; we celebrate with that and dollar hot dogs. There's no word from NSG, until [future hookup K] comes to the press box just before the game and says that she just talked to "our friend." She says that he wanted to know what [VP] had said in the e-mail because he got all these messages from people who were worried about his well-being. And she told him that he had to expect that, because he left the way he did. K says he’s doing great, which is when her voice breaks. Well, not great, but he’s doing good. She says that he walked out with [coworker] at 12:30 a.m. Friday morning after the game and didn’t say a word about any of that to her.  

[Roommate] tells me a little more, namely that the fender-bender that NSG had on Tuesday really freaked him out. That, I guess, was a big factor in his decision, because he really couldn’t remember being in the left lane, there was so much else on his mind, and that really got to him.

 

H, who runs media dining, had just started (and by “just started” I mean at the beginning of this homestand) bringing NSG his own personal bowl of fruit. They would have it upstairs all ready for him when he went up. I thought it was funny; NSG liked it because he was "the boss." Then, Friday, they brought a bowl – and it was a nice bowl, too, some kind of metal and fairly large – of fruit, all artfully displayed, to the refrigerator in the press box. It was covered with plastic, and had a napkin on it that said "Mr. NSG’s." That night, S, the open-captioning lady, had stopped me and said it was there and it seemed kind of eerie, since he wasn’t there anymore. And I thought so too, but I couldn’t make myself do anything with it. I don’t know – it was like, if it was still there, waiting for him, then things might still turn out okay.

 

Anyway, the bowl of fruit is still there after Saturday’s game, so I pull it out and start eating it. [Roommate] looks at me a little funny, like I shouldn’t disturb it (or maybe I’m just projecting) and says, "You’re eating NSG’s fruit?"

Well, yeah, I say – he’s not going to.

Then [VP] walks by, smiles benignly, and says, "Fruit salad, huh?"

Yeah.

Driving to work, I think: What if that wasn’t a memo NSG was writing – what if it was a letter of resignation? Then I think, no, it wasn’t – he wouldn’t do that, not like this. 

Except, he did. 

 

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

For the first time in my life, a baseball field is the last place I want to be. 

 

 

I had to work upstairs. I set up the computer and was standing behind it, on the lower level of the press box, when NSG walked in. He was talking to somebody else and didn’t say anything to me, and then he grabbed a Diet Coke and left. He didn’t come back before gametime. I went downstairs to get a Coke or something in the sixth inning. And NSG was there, but he was sitting on the back row, and he was staring off into space. So [Friend] was manning the computer, in addition to doing the post-game notes. After the game, I make it back to the press box just in time to see NSG pack up and leave. "Hi Molly," he says as he walks by. [New Guy] yells after him: "Are you going back to the office?" NSG answers in the affirmative but doesn’t stop walking. I ask [New Guy] if something happened, because obviously something’s wrong. He shrugs. 

Later, [Roommate] comes back from the clubhouse and says it was weird, because NSG missed the first part of the game, and then just sat on the back row. And [Friend] was stressed because he had to score the game. We all walk back up to the office, and NSG is in his office with the door shut. [Roommate] and I leave a few minutes later. [Coworker] says that she’s actually getting some work done; she’ll leave when "Stressy" leaves. He’s still in his office, typing away at something. 

"Oh, he’s writing a memo," [Roommate] says. 

"That can’t be good," I say. 

[New Guy] makes some comment about handcuffing me to the chair next to him, and then later talks about Stadium S&M or something like that. I have naughty thoughts. Tim visits the press box; we chat. I have naughty thoughts. NSG sits down just in time for the first pitch.  

M: What’s up? 

NSG: I had a date today. 

M: How’d that go? 

NSG: A blind date. It was good. 

M: Where’d you go? 

NSG: Houston’s. 

M: Wow… 

NSG: We were supposed to go yesterday, but I got hit. 

He gets up to go get stats or something. I sit and stare at the game and feel crushingly hurt. This makes me frustrated, because I want to feel something else. I want to feel happy for him, or mad at him, or hate him, or feel nothing at all. But instead, all I can feel is hurt. And that sucks. He comes back. 

NSG: Why are you cranky today? You’re a little cranky. ... What’s wrong? 

M: <shrugs> Nothing. 

NSG: You’re lying. 

M: No, I’m not. 

NSG: You’ve got some issues. 

M: No, I don’t, not any more than usual. 

NSG: You’re lying to me. 

M: I’m not lying to you. 

NSG: You’re just mellow? ... No, there’s something. 

M: Why can’t you just let it go? If you ask if something’s wrong, and I say nothing, can’t you just accept that? 

NSG: No, because there’s something there. In a minute, you’re going to go, "Well..." 

M: I mean— [and here I pause because I’m essentially doing just that] I could come up with something, but there’s not anything. 

Then I won’t say anything, so he stops asking. But there are no good options for that conversation. If I tell him the reason I’m "cranky," which is that I want him and he doesn’t want me, and that hurts, then he’ll get upset. I know, because we’ve had that conversation. It got us nowhere. We just ended up sitting there, looking over each other’s shoulders and being generally uncomfortable. If I don’t tell him anything, he thinks I’m lying, which I'm not, exactly, since I said I didn’t have issues any more than usual, and that’s true enough. So I don’t know what to do. I would think it’s pretty obvious, though, why I’m upset, and even if it’s not, he’s a smart guy – he should know why I might not want to tell him things. Either it’s about him, or it’s something that’s really bothering me, and I don’t want him to trivialize it, which is what he’ll do.  

So, he stops asking what’s wrong with me, but he still knows something is wrong. He keeps giving me fist bumps, and complaining that he doesn’t like "no fun Molly – NFM" and where did fun Molly go, and where’s his friend Molly? Once, he asks [Friend] where fun Molly went. [Friend], typically, has no response whatsoever to that, but does comment that NSG seemed to like the Chronicle reporter who was out at the ballpark earlier. NSG smirks. 

NSG: She was 11. 

M: But that works for you. 

NSG: Nah. <shakes his head> Today I went straight up. 37. [Friend]’s just jealous because he’s never dated a former Oilers cheerleader. 

F: <perks up> What’s this? 

NSG: Well, it wasn’t a date. It was just lunch. 

F: Oh, come on. 

NSG: Really, it was just lunch. 

F: Who was it? 

NSG: I’m not saying. You wouldn’t know, anyway. 1985. 

F: Well, no, but I know people who covered the team in 1985. I can find out anything you need to know. 

NSG dispenses some more fist bumps and then asks if I’m tired of him yet, which I’m not. He starts talking about how [third baseman] is the best interview on the team, for light-hearted stuff, especially. 

M: Could you do light-hearted? 

NSG: <what-a-stupid-question look> No. 

M: Could you ever? 

NSG: No. Mean-spirited. Bitter. 

M: Why do you like being mean so much? 

NSG: Because it’s fun. ... Come on, give me some gossip. What’s going on with [Crush]?

M: I don’t know. He still won’t make a move, so I don’t know what his problem is.

NSG: Is he gay?

M: Well, he did seem pretty excited about the nude sunbathing with you.

NSG: I’m a hot man. Most men want me. ... Come on, I know you and [Roommate] get together and make fun of people, and you don’t tell me.

M: Not so much. ... We make fun of people on TV, like “For Love or Money.”

NSG: No, that doesn’t count. That’s not fun.

M: Yes it is.

NSG: I mean people you know.

M: Probably the last person was [New Guy].

NSG: He’s gotten so much better. It’s leaps and bounds.

M: Does everybody think so?

NSG: I don’t think so. ... (But) I think so. And that’s what counts. Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly. ... What am I gonna do with you?

Meanwhile, back at the game, there’s a call that [Manager] doesn’t agree with. He runs out to argue, and NSG does his impression, again. I think he mostly did it because he was trying to get me to smile, since I liked it so much on Tuesday. 

 

Then he asks what I think about Sammy Sosa corking his bat. (I think that it’s being blown out of proportion – give it time and no one will care all that much. But it’s all over ESPN, how Sosa’s career has been forever damaged and his image forever tarnished.) We discuss. 

NSG: And your dad was at the game [on Saturday] and he didn’t even call me to get down on the field? 

M: Well, he was there with his college buddies. They were drinking. 

NSG: So how’s the rest of your family? Aside from your drunk father who’s lying in the street, drooling? 

M: Would you help him, if you saw him there? 

NSG: Probably not...if he was wearing that powder blue. 

M: What if he was wearing a Cubs jersey?

NSG: We did a bunch of interviews today, and I did nothing. Not a thing. I did the lineup card for the first time since 1993 today. No, 1994.

M: It looks good.

NSG: <looks at me like I'm an idiot> I didn’t do it. [Roommate] did. It’s the best. ... If we make the playoffs, you’re not working upstairs. You’re not even going upstairs. You knew that already, didn’t you? And I think, for the All-Star Game, I think you’ll be out there [in the outfield, for the overflow media]. 

M: So we’re talking about more than a year from now? 

NSG: Yeah. 

M: And you think I’m still gonna be here? 

NSG: Yeah. 

M: Are YOU gonna be here? 

NSG: Probably not. But I like to plan, still. I’ll probably be in Nashville. ... Or Chicago. ... You know, the one place I always thought I’d be is the place that I’ll NEVER go back to. 

M: You were gonna go back there? 

NSG: Yeah. I mean, not to Dook, but I was gonna live in Durham. ... With her. <He’s staring at a girl who obviously has been surgically enhanced.> Why do you [girls] spend so much money on that? You spend all this money, and it’s fake. It’s fake skin. 

M: I don’t know. I wouldn’t do it. 

NSG: You don’t need to. 

M: Well, no. It would give me back problems. 

NSG: It would give you back problems. If YOU did that, well... <shakes his head> Love your body, Larry. ... Love your body, Molly. ... I was gonna say Larry, but I just...

 

NSG: I have to go on a diet. I’ve been told. 

M: Why? 

NSG: My cholesterol. Like, overall, it’s fine, but one of those other numbers, it’s high. 

M: So what do you have to eat? 

NSG: I just have to run more. 

M: I guess you don’t want chocolate mousse anymore? 

NSG: No. ... I mean, I still WANT it. There’s a difference between wanting and can’t-having. ... I’m the greatest chocolate lover of all time. 

NSG: Let’s go to google and look up Molly Darnofall. What comes up? 

M: Nothing good. 

NSG: You’ve done it? You’re such a geek. <types in "Molly Darnofall; porn" but deletes the last word before [Friend] sees it> 

M: What? You’ve never done it? 

F: What happens if we type "NSG"? 

M: You get ski videos! 

NSG: It’s all those ski videos. 

Game ends in 2:25. NSG says, "If Saturday’s game is 2:25, I’ll run through here naked."

The Orioles are in town.

 

NSG: Do you think I look like Scott Erickson? 

M: <makes a face> No. 

NSG: Come on, a little? 

M: No. 

NSG: I look a little like Scott Erickson. I’m old; I can say that. … I think my ex-wife and Tim are the only people who care that the Orioles are in town. Should I call her up, see if she wants to come to the game? See if she wants tickets? ... I think she’s got a new man. I was driving by the other night to see the dogs, and there was someone there. But I don’t care about her. I just care about the dogs. ... That’s not true. ... I’d just like to see the dogs again before they die. Or before I move to Nashville. ... When are you moving back to North Carolina? 

M: I don’t know. When I can’t take it anymore. 

NSG: I might go with you, so just let me know. ... What’s your favorite city in North Carolina? Besides Chapel Hill.

"NSG had a fender-bender today," [Roommate] says. "And he’s having a bad day." He was on his way to a lunch date and got hit. And the cop came over to him, and he thought he was going to get cited for not signaling or something, but instead the cop told him that the guy who hit him said NSG had cut him off. NSG said he didn’t think he did; he thought he was in the right lane, but the cop and the other guy said he wasn’t. NSG says he didn’t get a ticket and shrugs, because he doesn’t remember cutting the guy off, but he seems to accept that he did.

NSG: At least I wasn’t drinking. 

M: Don’t do that. 

NSG: That could happen...at noon. 

 

NSG: Some guy called me the other day, and I had to listen to this, and it was this guy complaining about how they were referring to the Golden Sombrero. He said it was racist, since there’s no way they would ever call it the Golden Afro. 

M: Is there one for if you strike out five times? 

NSG: No. ... The Golden Afro.

 

Meanwhile, [starting pitcher] is giving up three runs in the fourth inning. NSG decides to pull out his [manager] impression, which is bang-on and funny as hell.

NSG: You know he’s sitting in the dugout doing this right now. <He does that thing that [manager] does where he angles his head and sticks out his lip. I laugh and laugh and laugh.> You liked that, huh? 

M: <still can’t stop laughing> Yeah...that was good. 

NSG: I know him. ... He called me today and asked for the hitters for the Tampa Bay series. He wanted to know where they are. And I said, "They’re down there. They’re in the clubhouse with everything else." And he said, "Oh, okay, but are you sure? The Tampa Bay hitters?" And I kept thinking he was talking about Baltimore, and he even said it again, and then I finally realized, and I said – because he always takes things one day at a time; he doesn’t like to look ahead – I said, "Skipper, I’m trying to take it one game at a time." Oh, he laughed.

 

NSG checks his email on [Friend]’s computer and starts playing footsie with me. I look over at him; he grins without taking his eyes off the screen. 

NSG: I almost met the Dixie Chicks. On Saturday. They were in the dugout meeting Sammy. That game, that was the best game I’ve ever been to, in person. Can I just hit you really hard? [My niece] asks me that. 

M: Do you let her? 

NSG: God no! She’d hurt me. She’d pummel me. Are you kidding? 

Brad Ausmus comes to the plate. 

NSG: How can you make $5 million and be THAT bad? 

M: He’s not really THAT bad, is he? 

NSG: <yelling> .198, Molly! He’s hitting .198! 

M: <shrugs> 

NSG: Women have it easier. It’s easier for them. 

M: Why do you think that? 

NSG: I don’t. I was just trying to bother you. 

 

NSG: <rummaging around in his bag> We’ve got to think about this. 

M: <doesn’t respond...I figured he’d keep going, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to respond, anyway> 

NSG: "What do we have to think about, NSG?" Well, Molly, we have to figure out when I’m gonna take you to dinner. 

M: Okay... When are you gonna take me to dinner? 

NSG: <looks at the schedule> How about June 16th? 

M: It’d have to be late. I’m flying in at like 7:30. 

NSG: <makes a face> Okay, then. ... How about the 26th? 

M: That’s fine. 

NSG: Okay, good. 

 

The game ends. Astros win. NSG packs up his stuff and rushes back to the office. But before he leaves, he says, "Thanks Molly. ... I love you. ... But you already knew that I love you." 

So yesterday, NSG says, "Oh, the ‘I’m attracted to you – what should we do about it?’ conversation ... it’s been a while since we’ve had one of those." Does this ... mean anything? That night, I dream that he’s hugging me, like sweeping me off my feet, taking my breath away, all those things – literally – and he won’t let go. 

I made muffins for today's game.  

He checks his email at [Friend]’s computer and asks me if I look at porn.

M: No.

W: What do you do that’s bad?

M: What do you consider bad?

But he doesn’t answer.

 

Later, he looks at me and says, "I'll kill you." I ask what happened, and he says, "I'm just bitter today," and then he looks at [New Guy]. 

After the game, I tell him to have fun in St. Louis. He says, "I will. And Chicago. I’m going to Chicago, too. ... Thanks for doing the computer – I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know."

As he’s getting ready to leave, putting on his suit jacket, [New Guy] says, "Hey, have a muffin." NSG looks back at the muffins. "Hm...Molly’s muffins..." he says. He looks at me, then the muffins, then back at me. "I’ve had too many of Molly’s muffins, if you know what I mean." 

We are at the ballpark for a 5k the team is hosting. NSG mentions that I was the first person he ever hired. Ever. In his life. I smile and tell him I still can’t believe the first person he ever hired was a Tar Heel. “That’s very good,” he says, grabbing at my arm that way he does that makes me want to flex so my arms don’t appear so flabby. He hugs me. 

NSG: Will you come work for us?

M: If you hire me.

NSG: I can’t hire you. I mean tonight. … I tried to hire you, and I couldn’t, and I’m not worrying about it anymore. The next person who hires you will be … not me.

M: <looks out at the ballpark and almost starts crying> I know.

He sees a girl stretching in a compromising position. I know what he’s thinking, but of course I’m not going to say anything. “You know I love you,” he says, “but there are just some things I need [Trainer] for. We don’t even have to talk. Sometimes, on the road, we’ll just look at each other.” We get back to the office. 

NSG: It’s good that [Roommate]'s not here, because she would’ve worked this, and then she would’ve worked all day, too. Can you go get me a Coke? From [the executive] cooler, you know where that is? You can get one, too. Do you drink Coke? You don’t drink Coke.

M: I do. 

NSG: If you see anyone, just tell them it’s for a meeting. Tell them you’re having a business meeting.

M: <getting up to go get the Cokes> They’ll know.

 

I come back. I look at his bobblehead collection. "Don’t touch my bobbleheads," he says. He asks if I’m working upstairs tonight, which I am. “Thanks a lot,” he says, sarcastic. I sigh. “It’s just that everything runs so smoothly when you’re there,” he says, and then promptly ruins the moment: 

NSG: Bitch.

M: ... Wow.

NSG: Did that hurt your feelings?

M: It always does.

NSG: <makes a face> You’re full of crap. When was the last time you took anything I said seriously?

M: I never take you seriously. But that doesn’t mean that sometimes... <shrugs>

NSG: So, let’s talk about [Roommate]. How’s she doing?

M: She’s okay. It’s good that she got away. She was gonna have another meltdown. She’s just all about work.

NSG: I know. 

M: And she won’t ask for help.

NSG: Yeah! She won’t ask for help. 

M: Which is because she can do everything, so she’d rather just do it herself.

NSG: That’s a good point.

M: And if someone else does it, she has to fix it.

NSG: That’s a good point.

M: But some things, she could ask for help with. Like hotel packets.

NSG: I did those the other day! So what does she want to do?

M: I think she wants to stick it out until the All-Star Game.

NSG: That’s a long time.

M: I know, but I think she wants to wait until that, and then I don’t know if she’ll stay any longer. 

NSG: What happens then?

M: You know, she wants to go back [home], have a job where she can have a life, raise a couple kids...

NSG: <makes a face> I just worry about her, because I don’t want her to end up like...mmm...me. Did you like that? "Mmm...me."

M: Mm-hmm.

NSG: Would she stay here if she was a boss?

M: <considers> I don’t think that would change her decision, if she’d made up her mind.

NSG: What’s going on with her and [Crush]? Anything?

M: <shrugs> Nothing.

NSG: Why not? Whose fault is it?

M: Both. She tried, she invited him places, and nothing happened. They had a good time, but he didn’t make a move. I mean, if he wanted to make a move, he could’ve, but he’s not, so I guess maybe he’s not interested. I told her she should just propose, since all these soldiers are coming back from war, and their girlfriends are proposing, and he was at war, but...she wasn’t interested.

NSG: <laughs and gives me a fist bump> So have they discussed it?

M: I don’t think so. I don’t think they’ve ever had that conversation – "You know, I’m attracted to you..."

NSG: Are they scared of what the other one thinks?

M: I think so. I mean, that’s a hard conversation to have. Sometimes it’s better if you don’t know.

NSG: Youth is so wasted. ... The "we’re attracted to each other; what should we do about it" conversation...it’s been a while since we had one...

M: Mmm. <Do you want to have one? Because we could...>

NSG: So let me ask you a question. ... What would you do if you woke up in the middle of the night, and [AP baseball writer] was in your bed?

M: First of all, that would never happen. And...why?

NSG: <smirks> He’s just, everything I hate about working with the media, working in media relations, he’s it.

M: I don’t know why you always have to do that – "Do you find [AP baseball writer] attractive?"

NSG: <laughs, really laughs, gives me a fist bump> That’s disgusting. That’s truly disgusting.   

[New Guy]: NSG is always sweating.

M: Well, he's a hot man.

N: What?

M: He's a hot man.

N: "He's a hot man." <shakes his head> You have to ask NSG about his long night. He called [coworker] at 2 a.m. from some bar.

M: <rolls eyes, but asks, dutifully> What did you do last night, NSG?

He doesn’t hear.

M: <to New Guy> What happened?

N: <smug> You have to ask him – I know what happened.

M: Did he score?

N: <considers> I don’t know. … Hey, NSG, did you score last night?

W: <turns around, blinks, nonchalant> Yes.

M: <stunned> Oh.

N: Oh. … <mutters, to me> I wasn’t expecting that. <to NSG> Molly wanted to know.

NSG: Yeah, why? I only made one mistake.

M: <dissolves into fits of relieved laughter>

NSG: What?

M: [New Guy] said, "You have to ask NSG about his long night… He called [coworker] at 2 a.m." And I said, "Did he score?" …

NSG: Oh, that. You mean... No, never that.

N: <grins> That’s what I was expecting to hear.

After the game, I got held up waiting for the tapes. I had to wait at Union Station then stopped back by the press box on the way out.

NSG: What’s up? 

M: Nothing. What’s up with you? 

NSG: Nothing. I had to get mad today, and I don’t like that. I’m a little bit upset right now. I shouldn’t have to take crap about opening the clubhouse. 

M: What happened? 

NSG: Well, now I make it a habit: when the game ends, I check my watch, and then 10 minutes later I open the clubhouse. Today, I was about to open it, and Lance came up to Jimy and asked if they could talk, so they had a meeting, but the game ended at 3:38, and I opened the clubhouse at 3:48. And someone from astros.com didn’t like it. She said, ‘Couldn’t you have told us there was going to be a delay?’ And that pissed me off. 

M: I can tell. 

NSG: I was like, it was 10 minutes. And I told her that. I went over and said, ‘I don’t appreciate that; I waited 10 minutes, and that’s all. And I don’t appreciate that. It’s uncalled for.’ I was proud that I confronted her, though. Usually, I’d just sit and stew. … Women – sometimes I just want to kill you. I don’t like mean NSG. 

M: Me neither. 

NSG: Was I ever mean to you? I don’t think I’ve ever been mad at you. 

M: You made me cry once. 

MSG: What?? Because of work? It wasn’t because of work.

M: Yes it was. 

NSG: What was it? 

M: I don’t know. It was a while ago. 

NSG: I never got mad at you. I never yelled at you. You were too good. What was it? Are you sure it was about work? 

M: Yes. It was two years ago. There wasn’t anything else for it to be about. 

NSG: What was it? Was I giving you crap about Carolina? 

M: No, I don’t care about that. 

NSG: Notes? Stats? I didn’t say anything. What was it? I don’t remember an altercation. 

M: It wasn’t an altercation. You said something, and then you walked away, so you wouldn’t have known… [that I cried]. I think it was about doing TV stats. 

NSG: Oh, you didn’t want to do them? 

M: No, and I think… 

NSG: And I gave you crap. 

M: Mm-hmm. 

NSG: And you cried? 

M: Yeah. 

NSG: Really? That’s pretty funny. 

M: Well, I’m glad you think so. 

NSG: Is [New Guy] coming to the party tonight? 

M: I don’t know. … I didn’t ask him. 

NSG: I didn’t either. I don’t know. I mean, he’s trying, but I just, I didn’t want to ask anybody, so… All right, what are we doing here? <He starts to gather up his stuff.> You’re in my way here; you’re cramping me. 

M: I can just leave. 

NSG: No… There was this girl here, she was from Chicago, she was doing a story on somebody, and she was talking to me and I kept going, ‘Okay, you’re hot, but you’re a close talker.’ That never used to bother me, but it just bothered me today. She was just there. I almost went, ‘Okay, hold on, let me get the expert to see if you’re really a close talker.’ 

M: Did [Roommate] tell you she’s having dinner with her friend [Crush]? 

NSG: Really? Ooh, somebody’s gonna get spanked! 

M: <laughs> 

NSG: Was that bad? …I don’t really feel like drinking a lot. <He stands up, with his Palm.> Okay, [Reliever] with the win… Tony… Tony? <laughs> [Other reliever] with the loss. [Closer] with his sixth save… 

M: <makes a face, using tongue, because he lisped a little> 

NSG: <eyes popping> What was that? What were you doing? 

M: <laughing> You said ‘thixth’ – you kind of lithped. It was funny. 

NSG: Sixth save… sixth save… that’s hard to say. … All right, what are we doing here? Where are you going? Are you leaving? 

M: Well, I could just walk with you. 

NSG: Oh, Molly Molly. What am I going to do with you? 

M: I don’t know. 

NSG: Molly Molly Molly Molly. <He does this all the time. All the time. Argh. He grins.> So, do you want to go hot synch? 

M: What? 

NSG: I could show you my stats package. <We walk to his office.> Molly Minors. I’m gonna start calling you that. Molly Minors. Have you ever known a Molly Minors? 

M: No. How many Mollys have you known? 

NSG: Biblically? One. 

M: <laughs> 

NSG: <laughing> You walked right into that one. 

M: No, that was funny. 

NSG: Okay, Molly Darnofall, let’s hot synch. <He hooks up his Palm. I look at his bobbleheads.> What are you doing over there? Don’t touch my bobbleheads. 

M: <sits down> 

NSG: Molly, my God... <he’s staring at my chest> 

M: What? <I pull my shirt taut, again, but of course it doesn’t stay, because I’m not sitting up straight.> 

NSG: You’re just, you’re… <He goes back to his computer. I relax. But then he looks up again.> Molly, I cannot have a conversation with you like that. 

M: Oh, come on. Just don’t look. 

NSG: Molly, I’m a man. "Don’t look..." Jiminy Christmas! ... It’s ... I ... 

M: <hugs his World Series coffee table book> Well, what do you want me to do? 

NSG: Get a shirt that fits. 

M: It does fit. Just not in that one spot. 

NSG: Well, that one spot is… That’s like me walking around like… <He stands up, pulls his shirt out, and stops just short of cupping himself> 

M: I could have a conversation with you if you were like that. 

NSG: If my fly was just open? <shakes his head> You’re just, you’re full of shit. 

But really, I don’t see what the problem is. If his fly’s open, and I can see his boxers – ooh! Oh NO! That’s no big thing. And all I was showing off was my bra, anyway. So there. He finishes hot synching.

 

We all go out that night. [Friend] hugs me, and then I go sit at the table, where the waiter brings me a wildly potent blue margarita. B comes down to the end of the table to talk to me. She asks about [Roommate]. I tell her about [Crush], but end with the fact that [Roommate] doesn’t tell me everything because I gave her a hard time about [Crush] last summer. “But there are some things you don’t tell her, either…” B says. I say that I can’t tell [Roommate] because she doesn’t ever want to hear it if I hook up with [New Guy], so I can’t imagine how she’d feel about me hooking up with NSG. “We have a special bond,” B says. 

 

Then NSG and [his future hookup, K] decide we need to go see a movie. We go to see Raising Victor Vargas at River Oaks. As the previews are playing, NSG and K have a heated discussion because he called her some name and she didn’t like it. She said something like, “What haven’t you called me this week?” and played it off, but then she said that one thing he said bothered her. He kept saying, “It was funny. I had just gotten back from 20 games on the road, and it was funny. I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean it.” And she kept saying, “But don’t you see it from my point of view? I didn’t appreciate that.” And they kept going back and forth. It was stressful. And yet -- why does he do this to people he presumably cares about? After the movie, NSG pats me on the head – pats me on the head? what? – and smiles. Then he starts to walk away, looks back, and says, “Bye Mollster.”