3 strikes and i'm way out

Since I’m on this sports kick, I’m reminded of some missed opportunities I may have had scoring with pro athletes.

Of course, Chase and Cole here are way out of my league, not to mention my demographic. (Stop me before I pun some more.) But what about when I was younger?

For instance: in the early 80s — so I was in my early 20s — my softball coach calls me to tell me to hustle down to his sporting goods store because he wants me to meet Tim Kerr. (Tim Kerr scored 363 career goals as a Flyer, ranked third on the team’s all-time list.) Wow! A real hockey player! Ok! So I head to the store to meet him. A big guy, blonde…but I don’t normally go for blondes. Sorry. He does absolutely nothing for me. But he seems like a nice guy.

We chat for a little bit, and he asks me if I want to meet him and some friends at Rexy’s later that evening. Very casual. I think and mull over and consider and think some more, and say…

“Uh…I don’t think I can. I have to WORK tonight.”

Which was true. But it wasn’t the kind of job I couldn’t cut out of FOR ONE NIGHT so I could go DRINKING WITH SOME PRO HOCKEY PLAYERS. WTF was I THINKING??? I was making something like $6.35 an hour at the time. So I would’ve lost, maybe, oh…$25 in wages? WTF! Who knows how stinking RICH I might be now?! Well, probably rich and divorced, which is a pretty fine master plan.

Fast forward about 5 years. I’m living in Florida. The boys of summer are in spring training, and cruising around the bars like jaguars. I’m out with some friends at a bar. Gail has a crush on Ron Darling, pitcher for the Mets. As it happens Ron and some of his Mets friends are in the bar. So my friend Merry goes over to him and has a few words. He comes over to us at the bar. He’s headed directly toward me. He is not unpleasant looking. He smiles, then leans over to kiss me.



“WAIT!” I say. “It’s not ME who likes you, it’s HER!” pointing to Gail.

He looks a little put-off, but offers her a kiss. They start to talk. I don’t think she slept with him, but she probably could’ve. In retrospect, I might have. Just to say I did, you know? The bigger issue here is, why on EARTH would I DENY a pro baseball player the opportunity to kiss me? And what--now he’s a color announcer with the Mets? WTF is WRONG with me?!

Still in Florida, I’m escorting senior citizen tours (yeah, life goes from bad to worse), along with another gal. We meet up with a few guys from the Braves minors team, one of whom I believe goes on to be famous, but I can’t remember who. We have a few cocktails. We end up back at their hotel. We’re invited in….but here’s the coach. Or chaperone. Someone in charge.

“Guys are on curfew. Scram.”

Hell, talk about shagging! An entire frigging baseball team, right in the palm of my mitt! Imagine the potential tell-all book possibilities!

But no. In every instance, my infuriating combination of goddamn good sense and stupidity took me down the path of virtue. Perhaps in my next life I will be rewarded with a heavenly romp with Chase Utley instead.

Or, even just in a sex dream.