Rejected meets Country Music

Well Brandon Phillips, you did not respond to my last blog. I even tagged you in a tweet about the blog and got nothing.

It's ok. Part of the reason I'm doing this blog is because I can take rejection. I mean, it was probably my timing. When I tweeted Brandon, he was in the middle of a game against the Brewers. It probably got mixed in with other tweets...from other girls...
                          Maybe he did read it....I knew I shouldn't have mentioned the roller skating dream. That was weird...
                                           Or the head in the oven joke--He's probably heard that one a million times.
No, but really it was just bad timing....

Two weeks ago the MLB Home Run Derby and All Star Game came to Phoenix. I wasn't able to go to either because of work obligations, but I went out with a group of friends after each to see who we could see (and, of course, by that I mean baseball players).

We didn't run into any baseball players that night, unfortunately. But our efforts were not made in vain because I learned the best way to get the attention of a famous country music singer:

You ask him if he's part of his own band.

That's right, we ran into Jason Aldean and crew that night. (Don't know who he is? Don't worry, I didn't either.) My good friend caught wind that the guys next to us were part of Jason Aldean's band. She, not afraid to ask, turns to the first person she sees and asks him, "Are you in Jason Aldean's band?" Only she didn't know at that moment she was talking to Jason Aldean.

After giving her hell for a few minutes, he introduced himself to the rest of us and we hung out with him and his crew for a good part of the night.  He got his fair share of humility that night, even after the initial conversation. Only two of our group of seven knew who he was before the night began. One of my other friends asked him to watch his language. He bought her two shots.

A few lessons I learned that night:
1) Baseball players still go out in Scottsdale even if the game is downtown. (A tidbit we learned from another friend we met that night).
2) Pretend you don't know a famous person even if you really do.
3) The crew can be just as cool if not cooler than the lead guy.

I'm still on the hunt to meet some baseball players, but at least I've met some cool people along the way.

Dear Brandon Phillips

Dear Brandon Phillips,

I don't know if you remember me, but I asked for your autograph and got my picture taken with you during Spring Training '11. Just think back to the coolest person you got your picture taken with, and that's me. I posted that picture of you on my Facebook profile, when in reality, you should have posted that picture of me on your profile.

I'm writing this letter to you to help me on my quest. I chose you for 2 reasons:

1) You are the Fan's Best Friend. Really--As a Cincinnati Red's fan myself, I've seen how you acknowledge your fans at spring training, your home turf, or Twitter. So, if anybody's going to respond, it would be you.

2) I recently had a dream that you and I went roller skating many days in a row and became great friends so that you could help me with this ambition. (I know, roller skating, really? Sorry--probably not the way you have hoped to be in a girl's dream...)

As a disclaimer, let me say that I am not trying to do some kind of reverse psychology trick to get you to ask me on a date. No offense, but you're not exactly my type. Plus, you barely meet my height requirement.

Here's the main point of this letter:

What would you say that I need to do for an MLB player to ask me out on a date?

Any advice or words of wisdom would be greatly appreciated.

Yours truly,

Marie Colette

P.S. Congrats on getting voted into the All Star Game. To prepare yourself for the Phoenix heat I suggest you practice by sticking your head in the oven a few times before you come.

P.P.S. Go Reds!

Baseball and Players

My enjoyment of baseball began when I was about 8 years old. The summers after 3rd and 4th grade I played with the boys on the Little League baseball team. My proudest moment was the last game of that second year when I hit a double after frankly being afraid to hit the ball all season. I was awarded Most Improved Player.

In the past two years I have had the fortunate experience of living in Phoenix, Arizona. The even more fortunate experience comes every March when half the MLB teams come to Phoenix for spring training. It is by far the best month in Phoenix.
                     85 degree weather...
                                            sunshine...
                                                      green grass...
                                                                     autographs...
Because of the spring training facilities, Phoenix has become a baseball hub. You see, not everybody makes it to the big leagues. From my understanding, some of the players in the minors stick around for some additional training after the month of March.

I had the opportunity to meet one such player at my birthday party at the SandBar in May.  A few of my friends and I were out on the dance floor. I make eye contact with him and he comes over. He's tall. He's attractive. I soon learn that he's a minor league baseball player. He's got a few dance moves. This could work, I think.

I quickly learned few things from this first experience with a professional baseball player:

1) If he has no pride in the franchise for which he plays, he probably doesn't have much pride in anything else,
2) If he tells you he's an atheist on the dance floor....just why would anybody say that on the dance floor?
3) If he can't remember your name after 4 attempts (or even 1 for that matter), he has no intention of ever remembering your name,
4) If the only contact he leaves you with is a screenname for a social networking site, he might need to work on a few social skills, and
5) If he tells you he just wants to take you home with him, run the other way.

Which is what I did.

I'm not looking for a one night stand fellas. I don't care if you're a minor league player, the MVP of the National League, or that cute guy at the bar, that's not the way it works in my book. I'm convinced that baseball players are as different as any other group of people, and that this one baseball player doesn't represent them all. I hope I'm right.