The Wonders of the Internet

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For all the blogs and websites available today, I tend to stick to a pretty select corner. Because of my baseball fandom, I've been a reader and sometime contributor to the comments on a blog called "Surviving Grady." This site was launched (as Red Sox fans everywhere will surmise) because of the 2003 ALCS, when Grady Little left Pedro Martinez too long in game 7, allowing the MFYs to win the series in heartbreaking fashion.

I first ran across "SG" as I was creating this blog in January 2005, when the good folks who run Blogger featured it as a "Noteworthy Blog" or somesuch. I've been hooked ever since. In the beginning, I kept coming back for the snarky humor of Red and Denton, and to find like-minded individuals who were still rhapsodizing about the recently won 2004 World Championship.

But in recent years, the comments section has been hijacked by a rogue's gallery of posters, one more creative and hysterical than the next. If pressed, I would guess that most of the commenters are women. They are all extremely smart about baseball, and it is presented with a side order of pure, unadulterated wackiness. Over the past year, the crazy folks have been having semi-regular meet-ups where people get a chance to put faces and bodies with their voices and personae.

Last night I was privileged to meet four of these women after Bobbers and I attended the Sox game (which we won 11-2, BTW). We met at an off-the-beaten path pub on the Brookline side of Kenmore Square. I wasn't quite sure what to tell Bobbers about "Hayes," "Tex," "Kelly," and "Cyn." Should I tell him about the heated arguments about baseball and other topics we have daily? Should I tell him about Tex's rally hoots? Should I warn him about the foul language? Naaahhhh.

I did explain the easily explained. Like, how Kelly is an expert photographer, how Hayes lives in the Pioneer Valley (one of our favorite places), how Tex is from...well...Texas, and how Cyn takes her baseball quite seriously.

In the spirit of Tom Miles' explanations of our crazy band of bloggers, which I could never come close to topping, here's my night with "Team Ovary."

During the ninth inning, I check my cellphone, and sure enough, there's a message from Tex. So I call and find out they're having a "low key" night at a bar with a name I never did find out. But she gives me vague directions..."It's on Beacon Street, just go over the bridge. It has a Gaelic name and a yellow front. You won't miss us, we're sitting in the window."

So off we go, with me thinking: "Why the hell am I taking directions from the Texan when there were native Bostonians with her?" Is it in Kenmore Square? Is it in the Back Bay? Hmmmm?"

All we needed was one more call to orient us properly on Beacon and we quickly found the place. Outside, an almost-redhead was smoking furiously and talking on a cellphone. This has to be the place, I think. I try a half-shout..."Tex?" The woman's head whips around, she shuts off the phone and fairly jumps into my arms. "Did you say Tex?" she asks. Before I can say a thing, she says, "I'm Hayes!" And I believe I've found a new best friend.

As I disentangle from Hayes, a screeching woman with giant hoots and a Red Sox tank top barrels out the front door. It's none other than Tex herself. She's the reason I show up this evening, mostly because she invited me personally. Before she left Texas last week, she says specifically to me, "So, beck, are you going to be around next week when I'm in Boston?" Tex is most definitely NOT the kind of person you say no to. I'm intrigued to meet this big-hearted, thoughtful, poet with an infectious personality. How could I pass this up?

Cyn and Kelly are indeed sitting in the front table, in front of a wide-open picture window (see above). It's a dark, wood paneled local dive, and we sit down after brief introductions. I have the oddest sensation...I can't shake the feeling that I've known these people for a long time. But as Tom experienced, they all came as advertised.

Cyn was her typical hard-core, baseball-oriented self, and her cellphone is not far from her well-manicured hands. I have the sense that she's checking every at-bat of every major league baseball game going on across the country. "Fuck!" she yells at one point. "Those motherfuckin' Yankees are winning game two (of their doubleheader), too." I've always envied Cyn's passion - she'll defend her friends and family to the death, and doesn't suffer fools well. Online, I try to stay on her good side, fearing the repercussions of a baseball faux paux. In person, she giggles often, waves her hands when she talks and is not nearly as belligerent as I've been led to believe.

Kelly sits like a curly-haired Buddha, smiling broadly when we discuss our recent bet about JD Drew's recent home run drought. The other day we bet a beverage on him hitting a homerun during this series with the White Sox. When Drew hit one Friday night (which was missed by the umps, but that's another story), I made good on the bet promising to buy her a drink if/when we got together. I didn't think it would be so soon, but it was surely one bet I was more than happy to lose. Kelly is one of those calm, thoughtful people who typically applies logic and considered opinions to the frequent on-line arguments we've generated over the years. If I find her agreeing with me on baseball matters, I'm thrilled.

Hayes is fire itself. She's loud, cheerful, witty, and has diverse interests. Her conversations veer from car restoration to mortgages to music to past loves lost - all in a matter of minutes. But she's also caring and observant. When we escape to the restroom together, she asks after my husband. "Is he having fun?" she asks.

Considering Bobbers is quiet by nature, he's doing pretty well with this band of women. As we return to the table, he's engaged in a good discussion with Tex on the music scene in Austin. He's clearly found a kindred spirit who appears to enjoy his kind of music - the subject most near and dear to his heart.

What can I say about Tex? She came exactly as advertised. She's warm, emotional, smart and an excellent multi-tasker. If she's not yelling something to the next table, she's texting people in New Zealand, or softly asking the server for some ranch dressing for her chicken sandwich. Best of all, she comes with a badge (and she let me touch it!) Believe it or not, she's an officer in the Texas juvenile justice system. And I bet she's damn good at it.

The lesson from all of this? Once again, the internet has delivered the joy of community to another small group, one that would never have been possible, but for this particular website.