I’ve been to Seattle before. In my first year on the beat, several writers talked about this city as one of the very best in baseball. A nice hotel near the stadium. A friendly area for walking around in the afternoon. Great places to eat dinner if we were lucky enough to catch a day game.
Seattle was high on the list, and I was excited to come out here last year.
Then I got here and hardly saw the place.
The Yankees came to Seattle once last year. You probably remember it. That was the trip when I woke up to an early morning phone call telling me the Yankees were on the verge of trading for Cliff Lee. It was being discussed. Then it was going to happen. Then it was a matter of dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s (or maybe crossing those f’s at the end of Cliff’s name).
Then it was over, not happening.
A day of frantic phone calls and text messages from my hotel room — a morning when I was literally afraid to take a shower because, what if the whole thing broke in those 10 minutes? — came down to nothing at all. Every Yankees writer walked into the press box that afternoon with same expressionless face, and the same sad joke of a question.
You do anything fun today?