I have literally started this entry four different times, only to read back what I wrote and then delete with the fury of a woman possessed. I am delirious from exhaustion. I am giddy. I am me. A girl from Brooklyn who is living a life so beyond my expectations that even I can’t help but marvel at how truly blessed I am to be given the opportunities bestowed upon me. I am speaking of my whole life of course, but I will focus this entry on the game I love and my ability to share it with my family and friends.

My mother, father, brother, his girlfriend (Rachael), my best friend, Alaa, my friends Kelly and Jamie and I (yes, that’s eight of us) made All-Star memories in San Francisco -- memories that won’t soon be forgotten. I know I don’t have to tell you how magical baseball is, nor do I have to break down exactly what it feels like to see the greatest athletes in the sport today sharing the same field. Goosebumps. Butterflies in my tummy. I had all of it.

Sunday, I did the jumbotron commentary for the Taco Bell Celebrity & Legends Softball Game. (I was on the 15-day DL with plantar fasciitis so back off).

National League Lineup:

1. Ozzie Smith
2. Rob Schneider
3. Gary Carter
4. Dave Winfield
5. Leeann Tweeden
6. Kevin Mitchell
7. Matt Williams
8. Jimmy Kimmel
9. Robby Thompson
10. Robb Nen
11. Gavin Newsome
12. J.T. Snow
13. Jeff Garlin

American League Lineup:

1. Rickey Henderson
2. Rachel Smith
3. Jerry Rice
4. Andre Dawson
5. Fred Lynn
6. Dane Cook
7. Wade Boggs 8. Kenny Mayne
9. Bobby Flay
10. James Denton
11. Goose Gossage
12. David Bryson
13. Rollie Fingers
14. Marcus Giamatti
15. Jon Kelley
16. Sal Iacono

It was so enjoyable. No one took themselves too seriously and everyone had a great time. The quote of the day came from Jeff Garlin, who not only asked in the players meeting if we could implement a “no running rule” but also asked if there would be chocolate in the dugout. My exchange with him went like this:

Jeff:
I just figured out who you remind me of, Alyssa.
Alyssa:
Really Jeff? Who do I remind you of?
Jeff:
A young Jonathan Broxton.

I got to take a picture with Ernie Banks and Ozzie Smith and had them both sign a ball for my memorabilia collection.

Right after the game I hurried back to the hotel to get ready for the MLB.com party, which I hosted with Jose Reyes. The party was huge. I had no idea so many people would show up. The dancers and waitresses all wore items from TOUCH. I was very proud. At about midnight the players started to show up. Johan Santana (who is dreamy), Roy Oswalt (who needs to be a Dodger and I told him so), Carlos Beltran, Justin Morneau and… and…(drum roll please)…Russell Martin all made an appearance.

Okay, yeah, so I finally met Russell Martin. No big deal. And yeah, I was cool. Yup. And I didn’t have sweaty palms. Nope. I didn’t get star struck. Nope. I wasn’t even weak in the knees. Nope. My upper lip did NOT start sweating nor did I get blotchy and break out in hives. Phew. Thank God not one of those embarrassing things happened. I was cool as a cucumber. No big deal. Cory was cool too. The Milano siblings were calm and collected. See how cool we both were when meeting our favorite All-Star?

Russell was gracious and kind (just like I knew he would be) and told me he reads my blog -- a terrifying thought that I am choosing to repress for all the obvious reasons.

On Monday, I made an appearance at the DHL All-Star FanFest where I signed autographs for the fans. After the appearance it was time to go to AT&T Park for batting practice. I was able to bring my father onto the field for BP. How blessed am I? In between doing interviews, I stood next to my daddy right behind the cage. He was in awe. I was in awe watching him in awe. He didn’t move. His eyes were glued to the action. I looked around and had a reflective moment and got a little teary-eyed with the crack of the bat as my soundtrack. I got to meet Dmitri Young. He isn’t built for power. He isn’t built for speed. He is built for comfort and has the loveliest way about him. You can tell he has overcome a lot and was truly ecstatic to be there.

Monday night I went to the Playboy party where I sat huddled in the corner with Rachael, Cory, Alaa, Jeff Garlin and Kenny Mayne (who should act). Jeff, a huge Cubs fan, introduced me to David Wright (who is quite the presence I must say). After watching a playmate dance her way to numerous nipple slips, it was time to go home and get some much-needed sleep.

Tuesday, I had another appearance at FanFest and then once again it was time to do interviews on the field during BP. I brought my brother on the field this time. I must have done 30 interviews in two hours. I stood next to my brother for a bit and got a little salute from Derek Jeter and then it was time to go to our seats for the game festivities.

My seats were right behind the National League dugout. The tribute to Willie Mays was really cool. My mother was crying. I almost caught one of the balls he threw out to the crowd from his pink Cadillac.

Alaa (right) was sitting in another section. He wore his Dodgers cap. After the game, he said he felt like he was sitting in the Gaza Strip (he is Palestinian). The Giants fans were relentless with him. I ask you, how can you give this harmless guy a hard time?

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but...shouldn’t this be the one game of the year we can all get along? The Giants fans booed Penny, Saito and Martin. It was at that moment, I decided the Giants should get Rickey Henderson to round up their team. Hell, they may as well go after Julio Franco, too, and bulk up their fiber choices on their pre-game menu. Can’t we just all get along? It’s amazing to me that sporting events are the only social gatherings where it’s politically correct to be vocal about hating someone because of color (uni color, of course). The All-Star Game was the only time I have ever cheered for Barry Bonds. I couldn’t boo him. For that night, he was on my team and I was okay with that.

• What was up with A-Rod’s white sneakers and matching wristbands? Every time A-Rod was at bat, my brother would start chanting, “white (clap, clap) sneakers (clap, clap, clap).”

• Why can’t the National League beat the American League? The last time the National League won the All-Star Game, Bill Clinton was our President.

• Why didn’t Tony La Russa put in Albert Pujols to pinch-hit in the bottom of the ninth? What, did he hit the showers already?

Although Ichiro’s inside-the-park home run was beautiful to watch, for me the highlight of the whole game was Dmitri Young’s five-pitch at-bat in the bottom of the ninth. It’s these fleeting moments that make me a baseball fanatic. (“Fan” just doesn’t suffice. I prefer the whole word.) With two outs and a long journey to redefine his career, he singled, paving the way for Alfonso Soriano’s two-run homer. When Dmitri got back to the dugout, he looked up in the stands, we made eye contact and he pumped both fists in the air. He then started dancing to the music.

And I danced, too.

Thank you, MLB Properties (Steve, Howard and Greg). Thank you, MLB.com (Noah, Melissa and Mark). Thank you, Bobby Evans. Thank you, Russ Stanley. Thank you, for making a little girl from Brooklyn, along with her family and friends...very happy.

Peace,
Love,
AND BASEBALL,
Alyssa

July 22, 2007 - Living In The Moment

I wrote this article for the All-Star Game Program and wanted to share it with you...

Baseball and I had our first date in the mid 1980s. I was a gawky pre-teen (or "tween" as we now call them) with big hair. I wore jeans, a jersey that hung to my knees and a wide-eyed expression. Clutching my dad’s hand, I felt my chest tighten with the anticipation of the first pitch. I don’t think I blinked –- or exhaled -- during that first inning.

There was an instant connection; it was love at first sight. The smell of the stadium -– hot dogs, cotton candy and fresh cut grass -- was intoxicating (and to this day is something I would dab behind my ears if someone would bottle it). The sounds -– the crack of the bat, the umpire’s calls and the fans screaming at the top of their lungs -– were equally exhilarating. Sharing it all with 40,000 exuberant devotees brought together in support of their hometown boys was absolutely delicious. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the sportsmanship. I loved Baseball.

As I grew up, our love affair continued. Like any good relationship, Baseball taught me about myself and the world at large. As a teenager, I’d go to games whenever my scheduled allowed. If I couldn’t physically be there, I listened on the radio. Vin Scully’s voice is as soothing to me as my own father’s. Baseball had nothing to do with my day job (a fact that I loved) and it kept me from pursuing some of the other, less wholesome, interests of some of my peers. I learned about competition, fair play, the disappointment of loss and the exaltation of victory sitting in the stands of Dodger Stadium. I learned that practice makes perfect, except when it doesn’t -- that sometimes, no matter how much you’ve studied, prepared or anticipated, there will come a day when you just su*k and there’s nothing you can do about it. Except of course, realize that tomorrow is another day. I learned that great achievements don’t come easily. Not without hard work, sweat and sacrifice. I learned to live in the moment. I learned to never leave early because you never know what will happen. And I learned that if the impossible does happen, if the worst-case scenario presents itself, or worse, if a championship game is lost, one can go on.

As a grown woman, I’ve learned to love the game even more. I can fully appreciate its nuances, the strategy behind it, the games within the game, and the other, deeper issues that surround the psychology of winning. And the lessons continue: If you love something, stick with it, for it will almost certainly bring you joy one day. The Dodgers broke my heart last season, but I was back in the stands this year, ready to watch the season unfold.

When the world is not OK (and that seems to be more often than not, lately), I take comfort in Baseball. The history and spirit of the sport remind me that life is complicated and so are our heroes. But that through a good, fair game, we can match wits and skill, and most importantly, put aside differences and play on an even field. Each opening anthem is a fresh beginning. Anything can happen and the possibilities are endless. Your past doesn’t haunt you. Your future is not yet determined. It is bliss.

Ask Alyssa!

I thought it might be fun to open up your comments to specific questions this entry. I will pick my favorite questions and answer them to the best of my ability in the next entry. How does that sound?

Peace,
Love,
AND BASEBALL,
Alyssa

P.S. I have an appearance for TOUCH at Shea Stadium on Saturday, July 28. I will be at the Shea Stadium Team Store signing autographs from 11:30-12:30 p.m. ET and then again from 6-7 p.m. (doubleheader that day). Ten percent of all TOUCH sales at the store will go to the New York Mets Foundation. Come by and visit!

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