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Thu 11/25/2004
Europe, Day 5: Switzerland

After a breakfast of pastries from a local bakery near Heimo’s place and a list of suggestions for things to do in Munich, we set out for Switzerland. (Heh. We went to Munich later.) The Deutsche Bahn takes you from Freiburg to Interlaken in about three hours, and you get to go through Basel and Bern.

We arrived at the train station in Interlaken in the early afternoon and struggled with our luggage through the streets to Balmer’s Herberge, which bills itself as the oldest private hostel in Switzerland. Our room was in the main building, and we had paid a little more to ensure that we had a room to ourselves. It was cute, on the second floor with a window overlooking the street. There was a sink in the room, and linens were provided. The shower was just down the hall, and it was gross. There was a condom wrapper in there. (The mere thought of that is just disgusting but anyway, that’s why we had shower shoes.)

After we dropped our stuff in the room, we went to a local deli to get a late lunch. There was almost no one in the deli, since it was probably 2 or 3 in the afternoon by this point, and about midway through our meal, we realized that they didn’t take credit cards and we didn’t have any Swiss francs. So Lisa ran to the ATM, and we calculated that the exchange rate for the franc was much better than that for euros. Not that this saved us any money. After lunch, we walked around Interlaken, which had a nice park. There were a bunch of hotels in the area as well, and we noted that one, the Hotel Schuh, advertised a chocolate-making tour. That was enough to sell us, so we headed inside.

We asked about the tour at a candy counter featuring display cases full of chocolate. The tour was something like 10 swiss francs for the two of us, but then at the end we would get a 10CHF voucher for the hotel dining room. We were told to wait in the lobby and the tour would begin momentarily. I am sure the “tour” was just a way to get people into the hotel to eat, because it was hilarious. A guy in a chef’s apron came out from the back, introduced himself as Luc, and said he would be our tour leader.

Luc led us through the kitchen area, down a well-lit alley and into a room somewhere in the back where the chocolate magic happens. I don’t really remember the specifics, but he showed us how the molds work and how the chocolate is hollow. He demonstrated this by breaking the head off a chocolate cow. Then we made him pose for a picture with us and the broken cow and another, unbroken cow. I'm sure he thought we were weird. It was funny. After the tour, we both got pieces of chocolate cake, and it was absolutely divine. I tried a bite of Lisa’s and it was good, too (but not divine).

Once we finished the tour, we walked around town some more, taking pictures of the full moon rising. We checked out the local grocery store and the European cereal and then headed back to the restaurant/bar/club-type thing at Balmer’s for fondue. It was here that my camera crapped out and I freaked because what the hell was I going to do the next day AT THE TOP OF EUROPE WITH NO CAMERA? But I guess it was just hot or something because it worked the next time I tried it.

Back at Balmer’s, we were talking to the guy who was on host duty that night, Chris, who had graduated from an Ivy League school with a degree in political science. This came up when he mentioned that we were older than most of the kiddos who came through the hostel, and Lisa mentioned that some of them had an age limit, but not Balmer’s. Then we got this great idea to pose for a picture with him, and for some reason I hoisted my leg up on the counter (why? why?!?) and he put his hand on it and acted like he was going to pull up the cuff and I had to smack his hand and clamp my pants down at the ankle because I had not shaved since we got to Europe, and even though, as Lisa pointed out later, European girls are not known for shaving, Chris was American and anyway nobody needs to see that.

view from room at Balmers with Luc and the cows frolicking on the village green


Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EST
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Wed 11/24/2004
Europe, Day 4: Germany

Day Four was Thanksgiving in the U.S. In Europe, it was Thursday. In any case, it marked our first experience with the Deutsche Bahn. Gerhard dropped us at the Frankfurt train station bright and early, and showed us how to proceed. The station was rather nice but unassuming from the outside but is really cool on the inside.

The cold inside the train station was unexpected, though I suppose it shouldn't have been. The trains are outside; they have to get through, etc. But it is weird, because you are inside, and the main areas are warm, and there are restaurants and newspaper stands and everything else, and then you go to wait for your train and this wall of cold air just hits you.

Anyway, we were headed to Freiburg, on the western edge of the southern Black Forest, because Lisa has relatives there, and there is a shop that bears her name. Frankfurt to Freiburg on the Deutsche Bahn is a two hour, nine minute ride.

I spent some time in the Freiburg train station looking for a postcard to send my mom, a quest that was ultimately unsuccessful due to my failure to find stamps. We wandered around town looking for the magical store with Lisa’s name on it. I believe we took several wrong turns and asked some nice German people where to go, but eventually found it. It is a knife store. Not so much with the souvenirs. Lisa went to the counter tell them she shared a last name with the store, but no one spoke English and we don’t know any German. Finally she pulled out her credit card and pointed to the name. The lady caught on quickly and laughed and got the owner (?) and we all smiled and had warm fuzzy feelings.

Eventually we met up with Lisa’s relative Heimo and his son, Rene, and Rene’s pregnant girlfriend, Janna. (They showed us ultrasound pictures.) Actually, I think we met Heimo first and he took us to lunch at an Italian place, which I found somewhat amusing. The rest of the family was at work, maybe, and we met them at dinner. I believe that for my Thanksgiving dinner I had some sort of schnitzel. We checked out the Freiburg Cathedral and the Christmas Market and then went back to Heimo’s house to spend the night. It actually sort of reminded me of my grandparents’ house. The décor was … interesting. The shower set-up also was … interesting. Since we were planning to depart early the next morning, I figured that could wait a day. Hey, when in Germany...

on the train to Freiburg


Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EST
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Mon 09/06/2004
we can chase these dreams down the interstate
It's the last game of the season. I go down to the field to watch warm ups. There's a groupie talking to Coach C. He had said he was going to wear pink earlier (when he complimented me on my sweater, which was pink, and said he liked me in pink), so I asked him where it was. "I’m wearing pink undies," he says, to Groupie’s delight. He asks if I’ll be back next year and says he’d like to be, if he can’t be in the big leagues. Right there with you, buddy. TM finishes stretching and comes over. "Here’s your two favorite fans," C says to him.
 
The Redbirds do not manage a baserunner until there is one out in the eighth inning, against a Nashville pitcher who this season has gone 5-12 with a 6.53 ERA, and who has a little boy who will grow up to be a Super Bowl champion. 
  
After. TM is walking toward the parking garage, on the concourse. He glances at me and says, "Bye Molly." I wave. He waves. I burst into tears. Not really. I call Marketing Guy to see if people are sticking around to hang out after the game. (Later, I find out that this is actually a tradition, where all staff can go hang out in the pavilion, but no one told me.) He says there are some people, but not a lot, drinking out in the pavilion. He is not planning to stay, and S is not there. MG laughs. "[Big Leaguer] just drove out on the warning track," he says. TM catches up to me at the gates and looks down at me. "What are you doing?"
M: Nothing. Some people are out in the pavilion, drinking, but I think I’m just gonna go home.
We wait for the elevator. He steps up right in front of me – I mean, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, to the point where I have to tilt my head back all the way to look up at him – and says something, low, so I can’t hear him.
M: What?
TM: (still talking low, and grinning now) I said, are you still trying to make me let you practice [on me]?
M: (raises eyebrows, smiles) Uh...well...
TM: (grinning) You’re thinking about it?
M: Mmm...no...I mean, because I want you to be good! ... And everything. ... 
Second floor. We step off. My car is parked right by the elevator. His is parked about halfway down the row, on the left. 
M: Well...have a good off-season...
TM: Come down here with me, to my truck. ... So ... I mean, we could do it right here (as he looks toward the passenger seat of his truck).
M: No, I have a thing against parking garages.
TM: Heh. Okay. Well, come here.
He hugs me again, pats me on the back twice, and then smacks my butt twice. Hee! He is giving me on of the leaning-down hugs, and it is really, really nice. He steps back.
TM: Be good.
M: Yeah. You too.
 
Then he gets in his car and says something about having a good off-season, and I respond in kind, but it’s weird, because I mean, he could be coming back next year but probably he won’t be, and I probably will be back, but I might not be. He watches me walk away, and waves with two fingers, and we exchange good-byes, and then I yell, "Don’t forget me," to which he smiles and says, "I won’t." Although he’s probably just saying that, whereas I will probably remember him forever. And if I don’t, I’ll read about it here.
 
We leave the ballpark. At the I-40 interchange, he goes west and I go east.

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
Updated: Fri 03/10/2023 10:24 PM EST
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Sat 09/04/2004
just for a moment if I could really make you mine
I am walking toward the home clubhouse, from the visitors clubhouse. TM is also in the hallway. He looks back and catches my eye, then stops.
TM: (smirks) So...have you been practicing?
M: A little.
TM: Yeah? On what?
M: Heh. Something that doesn't give feedback.
TM: ... Listen, I'd let you practice on me, but I just...I know it'd be great, but...
M: No, I don't want you to...
TM: (grins) Stop pressuring me! ... I would let you practice on me, but you'd get funny.
M: Funny?
TM: Yeah, funny. I mean, if I was your first...if that was the first time you did that, and it was on me, then you'd start acting funny.
M: How?
TM: I don't know.
M: Well. I guess I might. I do tend to get a little weird about things like that.
TM: There, see? I don't want you to get weird.
 
He asks me to get him some stats, which he wants for nepotism research purposes, so he wants me to "keep it quiet." He is waiting in the stairwell for me to bring them down. 
  
M: Is it what you thought?
TM: Where's the...oh, there it is. ... I thought it would be worse.
M: That's not good.
TM: Well, no, but it's not [really terrible].
M: Is he really that bad? 
TM: Yeah. He just...he misses a lot, and...I don't know. He's just not good.
M: But he has the right name on the back of his jersey.
TM: Heh. (bitter) Yeah.
M: Does that make you mad? I think it would make me mad.
TM seems to be peering intently at the stats, and he's quiet for so long that I think he won't answer, but then he says, "Yeah," and looks up finally.
TM: Thanks for getting this. Come on, give me a hug, in case I don't see you again.
M: What, like, ever??
(NSG once said this to me, and I responded the same way. I did see him after that hug, but...)
TM: Well, I don't know. There's only two games left.
M: But you'll be here, though...right?
TM: For two days.
M: So you'll see me.

He grins, a little, and reaches for me, and I hug him. He's just so solid. His hugs seemed different lately, and I couldn't figure it out at first, but I realized that now he's leaning down to hug me whereas before he would just stay up straight, which is why I became fascinated with his lower back. Then he grabs my hand.
 
+++

He steps back. I step back. We look at each other. He starts toward the door. I start up the stairs. He looks at me. I am, of course, looking back down toward him. Either it doesn't take much to get him turned on or that grip really does work. He grins. I grin. I take one more step up but then stop.

M: What am I gonna do, once you're gone?
TM: Heh. Just find a boytoy.
M: It's not that easy.
TM: I know. You just need to be more aggressive.
M: Yeah, I do. I'm not very aggressive.
TM: (grins) Just tell a guy you'll [retracted].
M: Even if I just wanted to do that, I mean, it'd still have to be a guy I liked.
TM: Yeah, I know. You'll find one.

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
Updated: Sun 03/12/2023 2:06 PM EST
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Thu 08/19/2004
there's pieces of me falling right into your hands
At 5:55, Radio Guy asks me if I can get his radio show interview, G. The clubhouse guy says he's getting dressed, inclining his head toward G's locker. G is wearing his socks and not much else. Coach C, who is sitting in the kitchen area, asks what I'm doing in there, because the wildly exciting conversation currently going on around the table is about the nacho cheese dispenser in the corner. Apparently there is a "nacho cheese stalactite" hanging there that has probably been there since the beginning of the season.
"I might have to check that out," says Future Star.
M: I'm just here to get G for his radio interview.
C: Well, he's in here. Go get him.
M: Yeah, but he's not wearing a shirt, and I can't take him up there shirtless.
FS: You know that's how you like them.
M: Well, yeah, but I don't think Radio Guy would want that.
FS: (shrugs) You never know.

They go back to cheese talk. I take a few steps back toward the door. G is now buttoning his uniform top. TM, who was not in the locker room when I came in, is now involved in some kind of discussion about who changed the TV channel. And then [Infielder] jumps on his back. Heh. I have one eye on this and one eye on G, when C calls me over to ask about getting stats. When he's done, G has disappeared but luckily makes his way to the radio show.

Meanwhile, all my dreams are coming true in Stairwell B. [Infielder] and The Magnificence are at the bottom of the stairs. [Infielder] is sitting in one of the chairs. TM is standing at the bottom and says, "Look, there's Molly." I say, "Hi boys." [Infielder] looks up and maybe nods slightly. TM tries to look up my skirt as I get to the bottom of the stairs, but he is trying to be inconspicuous so I don't think he could see much. 
TM: Molly, what were you doing in the fucking clubhouse?
M: Well, I thought y'all might want to see me.
TM: Well, yeah, but...
I: We don't get undressed until like 6:15.
M: So I was fine, then, right?
I: Well...we would want to see you...later...
M: Oh, I see. You want me to wait five minutes and go back in?
I: You should hand out towels in the shower.
M: Yeah, I could try that, once, see how it works...
I: Yeah, once...or seven times. (he grins, and leaves)

TM is sitting on the third step. I think he is looking at my boobs. I don't know whether to pretend that I actually had a purpose in coming down here or just stay and talk to him. I put my hand on the doorknob.
TM: Did you take off your panties yet?
M: Did I...uh, no.
TM: Well, go and do it, and then come back.
M: I'll do it now. (I start to, and he starts to freak out.)

TM: No, you can't do it here -- someone will come. Someone's coming now!
He stands up, pulls out his phone, and goes over to sit at the table. My panties are halfway down  but hidden by my skirt. Whoever is on the stairs exits at the first floor. I continue working the panties down, while he continues to freak out. But he's into it.
TM: No, you have to stop. Just go up and take them off... Where are you going to put them? ... Someone's coming!
I have by now reached the point of no return and pull them off, quickly, one leg at a time, almost getting them caught on my shoe but not quite. He is still mildly freaking out, and now is pretending to talk on his phone. I stuff the panties in my pocket just as the security person comes into view. I shoot TM a triumphant smirk. Security exits.

TM: Okay, go on up. Give me a good view. If you stand on those three steps...with your legs...okay, that's good, yeah. Touch it.
M: No! I can't; there's -- (gestures all around. He freaks because I take off my panties at the bottom of the stairwell, but now he wants me to stand on the landing and touch myself? What?!?)
TM: Well then come back down here and let me touch it.

He is very good with his hands.

After the game, going down the stairs, I see that [Infielder] is coming up. He exits before me. BUT I hit the bottom step going down as [Future Star] hits the top step coming up. He looks up, grins, and says, "There she is." Here I am. I smile and tell him to have a wonderful evening, reflecting as I strain my neck that HE IS VERY TALL. "You too," he says, as we walk out. [Infielder] is walking back in. He is on his phone, but says, "Bye Molly" and he's just so cute. I say, "See ya," as he walks by, and I smirk a little, and so does he, and then he winks. 

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
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Tue 08/03/2004
women do get weary
Coach C comes out to the dugout, where S and I are talking to TM.
C: What are you doing here?
TM: I was looking for a catcher. 
C: Are they gonna catch for you?
M: That girl caught in “Bull Durham” – Milly.
C: I was in that movie, you know.
M: Really?
C: Well, not in the movie, but I lived it. The guy, Ron Shelton, I rode the bus with him. He was always taking notes. He had a daughter. We used to babysit. 
TM: Where are you going? Are you gonna go find me a catcher?
C: Yeah. … They just told me I had a phone call, so I gotta go take that, but I’ll find someone to catch.
TM: Did I get called up? (He grins.)
C: They didn’t call me up. Maybe they called you up.


Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
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Sun 08/01/2004
and that's why I hang my hat in Tennessee
TM has a venti iced coffee from Starbucks. He is flirting with Sports Reporter in the tunnel before the game. As the starting lineups announcements begin, I get a call that I have gotten one of the starters wrong, which I did not, so I go over to TM, intending to ask if he knows why [Big Leaguer] is not starting, but just then his replacement is announced, and TM jumps and indignantly yells, "WHAT? Where’s [Big Leaguer]?? Did he get called up?" He looks to the dugout, and raises his hands to ask why, and then he goes back down the tunnel to go find out. I notice that the trainer is out there, and ask SR to focus her camera out there and see if she can see anything, but she can’t. Eventually, a much calmer TM comes back and says that [Big Leaguer]’s nose wouldn’t stop bleeding, but he will still be playing once it does. (Later, Coach C says this also happened in Albuquerque, and today, it just wouldn’t stop, and it was five till and he hadn’t been able to warm up at all "and that’s when I said, 'Skip, we’ve got to do something else here.'") 

SR gives TM a hard time about not bringing her an iced coffee.
TM: You didn’t ask.
SR: You know, I dreamed about [Big Leaguer] and now here he is, not starting.
TM: You dreamed about [Big Leaguer]? Whatever. You dream about me every night.
SR: <laughs> Oh yes, that’s right. 
The next inning, SR calls and asks me to bring her some water. By the time I get down there, [Competing Sports Reporter] is there, and she has set up right next to SR, who rolls her eyes at me to show her displeasure. I ask SR if she asked TM about his thoughts on CSR. She didn’t, but she will. She goes over to ask him and comes back laughing. "He said, 'FUCK no!'" she says. "I wasn’t expecting that." Heh.
 
SR tells me the story of her hookup with [Visiting Starting Pitcher]. I tell her that I understand, but I will not give details about my hookup incident.
M: I'll tell you someday, but you'll laugh.
SR: Does that mean I know him?!
Heh. Does she. Back to VSP. She has a picture of him, in her phone. He is holding a girly drink. 
SR: Well, he doesn’t like beer, and so he got this drink, which is called Pink Panties.
M: Were you wearing pink panties?
SR: Not for long.
M: Okay, tell me more.
SR: Well, we didn’t have sex. Because he’s engaged.
M: Right, you said that. But were you happy with how it turned out?
SR: Oh yeah. I was happier than he was.
M: Well, so what happened?
SR: It all started right here. He had actually seen me the day before. I was doing the camera in the dugout when he was pitching, and I didn’t notice him. And then the next day, he was here, and actually a friend of mine was here, and I was telling her that I can’t find any good men in Memphis. He said he would take me out and find me a man. So we went to the Saucer, and had a few drinks.
M: The Pink Panties.
SR: Right. 
M: Did he know you took that picture?
SR: Oh yeah. He tried to erase it the next day. I was in the shower, and I heard my phone beeping.
M: Wait – he spent the night?
SR: Yeah. But I wish he hadn’t.
M: So you didn’t have sex, but he spent the night?
SR: And he snored! I didn’t get any sleep.
M: Let me get this straight. He had Pink Panties, and then you left him with blue balls?
SR: (guffaws, and continues laughing)
TM: (looks over, curious) Shh!
SR: (still laughing)
TM: What are you talking about?
M: She’s a tease!
TM: Yeah, and?
M: She’s got a picture of the guy she went home with, that’s all.
SR: What did you say? I’m never telling you anything again.
M: I didn’t tell him anything! I just said you were a tease. I’m going to tell him all about it tomorrow.

The Redbirds win 2-1 in one hour and 55 minutes.


Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
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Fri 07/30/2004
never had a plan, just a livin' for the minute
TM is on the phone. We do our little dance. I walk up the stairs, slow. He stands up and cranes his neck to watch me. I look down to see his reaction. He motions me to come back down the stairs which I do, because I am shameless. I don’t know what kind of view he is getting, because I am wearing a thong, which covers most of my girly parts. He stares for a while, then smiles, slightly, gives me a thumbs up, and mouths "good." This is my cue to leave, of course, since he is still actually on the phone. However, I wait until he finishes.
M: It’s not fair. I mean, you get your little show every day, and I get … nothing. 
TM: Heh. Well. (shrugs) What do you want me to do? You want a show?
M: Yeah.
TM: Heh.
He gives me a show.
M: Well. (laughs, shocked) That’s fair. 
 
He grins and exits. Did he go into the clubhouse like that? Because I mean, I think that time it might have been rather obvious.

After the game, I leave at the same time as [Infielder], again. He is on his phone, but looks at me and waves. He is so cute, I just love him. I don’t care what anyone says.

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
Updated: Fri 03/10/2023 10:37 PM EST
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Thu 07/29/2004
we got a little crazy but we never got caught
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.

Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
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Sun 06/27/2004
and we swore up and down there would be no regrets
So he comes over and everything happens, and ... then he says he thought about it and he wants to go back to being friends. (I AM CURSED, FML.) So I say okay, because luckily (LUCKILY AND THIS IS ACTUALLY TRUE) I am not in love with him so I can do it this time. (Although, if he had kissed me like that before, and not after...) Anyway, it is slightly awkward but not terrible. The team goes on the road, and by the time they come back we are pretty much okay.
 
I have made friends with one of the local sports reporters, who limits herself to the visiting teams so she doesn't get into awkward situations like I do.
 
[Infielder] comes up to bat, and I ask her if she thinks he’d be good in bed, because I do. She doesn’t see it. I say, "I just get this vibe from him, that he has a very small penis, and he’s worked very hard to learn how to use it." She laughs so hard that she spits water out of her mouth and says that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard me say, and it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in a while. "It’s so bad that we’re talking about this," she says. "Oh, like they’ve never talked about us," I say. She concedes.


Posted by Molly at 12:01 AM EDT
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