Baseball on mute

So, I'm at the gym last night slogging through my usual 3 miles, and TV options included some variation on the tired "Fear Factor" theme, or the All-Star Game. Now, I have no idea who won it, or really who played in it, but I was very inspired. Unexpectedly inspired.

(Side note: I always bring two sets of headphones to the gym — one to plug in and fake out the TV so it stays on, and the other to use my iPhone for my trusty "Workout Songs" playlist — which needs updating, as it still contains "Jenny from the Block.")

Prior to the game, there was a procession (shown live) of baseball legends on the field at Yankee Stadium. There was Hank Aaron. And Yogi Berra. And Ozzie Smith. Sports legends that even I know who they are! I got chills and silently clapped at the screen. I don't even think it was my physical proximity that made me misty. I sat in gridlock that very morning because of the All-Star red-carpet event on Sixth Avenue — that wasn't fun! But there I was, later that day. Tearing up, on the treadmill. About sports. Me.

It was a moment where I realized why Americans love baseball so much, even if I don't care to follow it. It has a history in this nation of being a great equalizer. There's nothing like being at a baseball game. People of all ages, colors and abilities play baseball. Not everyone has to be fast, or tall, or big-boned. The giant green field and giant lights are almost pan-inspiring. A cadre of achievers lit up the flatscreen before me — people who changed the world with a hat, bat and glove.

And there, in the middle of some cheesy Daft Punk remix, I got it.

Happy New York Day!

No, it's not a government-sanctioned holiday — it's just what I've decided to call my every-so-often experience of a day in my New York City life that perfectly encapsulates exactly why I love it here.

Even if it's just taking a pleasant walk to Gramercy and back, peering up at the Flatiron, soaking up Bright Eyes inside my headphones and window shopping for shoes, it's a day that renews me and reminds me that I. Love. It. Here.

(By the way, I know I'm totally blogging with regularity again, but contrary to the nature of my last couple  posts, I will not be renaming my site This Week In Men. But I do promise to keep doling out snippets therein.)

Anyway.

Today wasn't an abnormal day — it was just a terrific day. Chatted to Simon; went to see a hilarious new Broadway show with Jenni and then ate amazing BBQ; squealed over how much I loved the show on the phone with Kary; took a sunny, hot walk to Bed, Bath & Overpriced*; and had a three-hour cell phone talk with my dad — which is semi-rare but not an unusual amount of time for us — and am now blogging at much too late o'clock.

So, to my point, I didn't save a drowning homeless person or meet a celebrity or feed a baby monkey with a bottle today, but it was full of laughter, interesting and productive — just a very New York City kind of day.

And now to a very New York City kind of sleep — which is to say, short, sweet and siren-ridden.


*My cleverness, I tell ya. It slays me.