by Lynne Marie

Created on: January 21, 2009   Last Updated: January 28, 2009

"Yes! Go go go go GO! RUN!" That's me, a 29 year old female, screaming at my television. Tom, my boyfriend, sitting at the other end of the couch, calmly says "Really Lynne, do you think he can hear you? Do you think that maybe if you yell GO one more time he might get to second base a little faster?" Such a cynic, he is. I am a baseball junkie, and he could care less about sports.

Shouldn't it be the other way around? In most households, it's the MEN who are glued to the television during Monday Night Football and the such. But no, not here. I'm the one who holds season tickets to Tigers Baseball. I'm the one who HAD to go to a Yankees game before they tore down the historic stadium. I'm the one who plays on two adult co-ed leagues, and coaches three Little League teams. I will spend six hundred dollars on a new softball bat, right after spending two hundred dollars on lingerie, and just before buying a pair of five inch stilettos. I love fashion, AND I love sports!

Tom and I went to school with Jenny. She moved to Philadelphia a few years back, but we visit each other as often as we can. When the Phillies made it to the World Series, I knew it was time for another reunion. She beat me to the thought, and insisted that Tom and I came visit for a long weekend. She had already purchased our tickets to the game, and wanted to pay for our airfare as well. When I excitedly gave Tom the GREAT news, he shrugged and said "We'll see." Are you serious?!?!?! I don't know why I expected anything different from him, he just couldn't care less about sports. We were both able to get the time off of work, our boys were going to grandpa's, and money for travel and lodging wasn't an issue. So off we went. I was head to toe in Philly Blue for the game, Tom wore jeans and a brown hooded sweatshirt. I was on my feet almost the entire game. Tom sat with his arms folded, and maybe looked at the field three times during all nine innings. I was raspy afterward - and ready to go to a sports bar, he wanted to know if I had checked in with our boys yet. He agreed to go to the game, so I agreed to skip the sports bar and treat him to a nice steak dinner.

I mentioned before that I play on a couple adult leagues. I got started with those when I was four months pregnant with our oldest son. Toms best friend Mark was on a team that was in need of another female player. He had jokingly asked Tom if I would be interested. Knowing how little interest Tom had in sports, Mark assumed that I would

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