Real Life

Real Life – May 2010

“Do you have a team?” Mike, a new co-worker asked, one early summer day.
“A team,” I asked back.
“A baseball team,” he said.
“Like the Yankees?” I asked.
“No. A fantasy team. In a fantasy league,” he said, emphasizing his words probably in hopes of ending this game of verbal catch we were playing.
“No. But I like the Yankees!”
This seemed like a hopeless exercise and the conversation stopped, as if we created a non-verbal agreement to just stop.
So, while I spent the better part of the summer appreciating the real games:
Two teams…
Nine innings (usually)…
Set rosters on each team…
The crack of the bat…
Players trying to stretch singles to doubles…
Mike would spend his summer combing the morning box scores and piece together how his fantasy team was doing. He would complain about how various players were used in the line-up, like he was plotting strategy with Lou Pinella and Joe Girardi each night.
I didn’t get it.
And once the season started winding down, I was sitting on the edge of my seat hoping the Yankees would storm the playoffs with the same domination that they showed all season.
There is a hope people grasp at all through the baseball season – that their team can string together enough wins to play a series or two in October.
Everyone else would just “wait ‘till next year!” Another eternal call of the hopeful! Either way, everyone looks forward to pitchers and catchers reporting to spring training – a sure sign that it will soon be time for baseball again!
But Mike (remember Mike?…)
But Mike must have realized that his fantasy team was not going to finish on top – apparently the victim of injuries, bad trades and questionable calls on the field.
So he would spend the last part of the season complaining about his wife… as well as life in general, all while obsessing about Jennifer Aniston, whose photos adorned his work space.
“So marry her,” I said.
“Marry who?” Mike asked.
“Jennifer Aniston,” I said.
“What? Are you fucken nuts?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“So how am I going to marry Jenn?” he asked.
He always called her Jenn!
“The same way you had Ryan Howard batting clean-up for you all year,” I said.
“How?” he asked, his voice rising slightly.
“In you fantasy league,” I said, although I was joking, especially Jennifer Aniston was clearly out of his league.
“So, now Mike started spending his mornings combing the entertainment sites and receiving Google alerts on Jennifer Aniston. He would introduce her into a conversation like he really did know her – like they were actually married.
“Jenn’s going to be in San Francisco this weekend promoting her new film…”
“Did you see Jenn’s new movie? I told her it was probably her best work yet…”
And he would actually get irritated – no, downright pissed – if he saw any stories about her love life and how she was cheating on him.
After awhile he started an affair… with Lindsey Lohan.
And even tried to keep up with her partying lifestyle: “It was a rough one last night,” he said on a few occasions.
And then he was gone. Mike got another job. He hated the structure of a large corporation and decided he would be better working for a small marketing firm instead.
“I can’t work in this big box environment. No creativity! This place just has no grasp of reality,” he said as he packed up his desk – and photos of both the real and virtual families – and walked out the door.