Well, the Yankees are battling it out for first place with Boston. We all know who's better, don't we Grandpa? My mother tells of walking with her father across the Triboro Bridge to get from Queens to the Bronx to watch the Yankees play. He was a die-hard Yankees fan and that, along with the general mystique surrounding New York City in our young Ohioan lives, made my sister and I Yankees fans, too. Stephanie even played as No. 5 on her little league teams, just like DiMaggio.

Anyway, being a "fan" in my extremely young childhood meant nothing--by the time I was old enough to actually play, sports always failed to hold my interest, one torturous year playing baseball, two dull years kicking soccer balls, and one summer taking tennis lessons with my sister notwithstanding. The first time I ever saw a pro sports game was in Atlanta for my dad's 60th birthday. We saw a Braves game. My sister's friends joined us, and learning I was from New York asked, "So are you a Yankees fan or a Mets fan?" "I'm a fan of the ballet," I deadpanned. And those of you who've read this site for any length of time know how true that is.

One thing I've always wanted to do, however, is go to a US Open match here in New York. Everybody talks about it in the late summer and I've always felt left out. Well this year a trio of tickets fell into my lap courtesy of the New York Times (client perk). So in early September I brought Alex and Jim with me and we had a seriously good time laughing, eating shit food, drinking beer and wine ("premium" wine, I might add). And, get this, we even watched some tennis.

The National Tennis Center is a bizarre and wonderful facility. A cross between a modern sports stadium, a private club, and Disneyland. Situated in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park in Queens, it features two big stadiums, smaller side courts all around, booths for food and vendors, low-flying LaGuardia-bound planes, and great views of the Manhattan skyline and the crazy old Unisphere and other neglected remnants of the '64 Worlds Fair. It was an absolutely gorgeous night, clear and mild, with a cool breeze. We lost Jim on the subway back to Manhattan, but we found him again at Grand Central Station, if you can imagine. It's was great fun!

Oh, the tennis? Well, it was a bore. Two mismatched matches--where one big powerful player walks all over some younger challenger who finds it hard to even win one game let alone a set. I think there were a couple of touchdowns. But like I said, I don't really follow sports.