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2001-03-12 - 12:07 a.m.

"Don't disrespect the pizza parlor!"

SUNDAY, MARCH 11
CLEARWATER, FLA.

Woke at 8:30 in the Florida morning, took advantage of the free hotel breakfast before before getting lost on the way to the Carpenter Complex. Well, I guess I didn�t really get lost since I didn�t know where I was going in the first place. I found my way to the Phillies major league complex, Jack Russell Stadium, and asked the parking lot attendant how to get to the minor league camp � which, it turns out, is basically around the corner from my hotel.

The thing with the maps in and the layout of communities in places like the Tampa Bay area and the Phoenix suburbs is that they are deceivingly large, complex. On a map, it looks as if Clearwater and Dunedin are minutes away, with few cross streets as you head north on Belcher Dr. But as you actually drive it, it is miles and minutes between major crossroads � that is, the ones actually marked on the map. What might appear as a five-minute drive can take 15, and it multiplies the further you travel. Part of it is driving for the first time in an unfamiliar area because when you don�t know where you�re going, a block can seem like miles. The rest is that living in a small state (geographically) like New Jersey, I�m used to the scale on that map; when I visit somewhere larger like Florida � well, basically any place out of the northeast � the map is printed on the same size paper, but the scale is necessarily larger. Or is it smaller? Whatever � it�s different.

At the Carpenter Complex � four fields named for Phillie greats Richie Ashburn, Steve Carlton, Robin Roberts, Mike Schmidt � I�m immersed in a sea of red. Phillies cover all fields, a camp of minor leaguers working out in the morning sunshine. A dozen or two fans mingle around the facility. The four fields surround the building at the center holding the offices and locker rooms. At about noon, the squads pair off for intrasquad games, and I plant myself on the bleachers to watch the Clearwater and Lakewood teams square off in a five-inning scrimmage. Two young women are there to watch their boyfriends � one having driven all the way from Fresno, California, with hers. Two others sit on another set of bleachers, stretched out across the metal in the hot sun balanced by the cool spring breezes.

After the game, I hang around for a little while to be sure of the plan for tomorrow, when the minor leaguers first get to face players from other organizations. The lower � Class A � Phillies will head up to Dunedin to take on their Blue Jays counterparts. I head back to the hotel and change into shorts before grabbing lunch at Steak-n-Shake, primarily for the vanilla Coke. You can�t get vanilla Cokes at too many places anymore � at least not in New Jersey. When I find a place, it will get me coming back often, or at least when I�m in an area where I can find one. There are no Steak-n-Shakes in New Jersey. Chalk up another plus for attending college in Indiana.

And speaking of my college � after lunch I came back to the hotel and napped � during which I dreamt that someone was trying to slide their keycard into my door, like they thought this was their room, when they�re really staying next door. Maybe that actually happened. In a related dream, I heard a car alarm going off (I think that actually happened too) and then dreamt that I went to the door and saw two girls sneaking around in the car. Not doing anything or stealing anything, just kind of trying to duck out of sight. Weird. So I set the alarm for 5 p.m., when the women�s selection show was to be aired on ESPN. I saw Connecticut unveiled as the No. 1 seed in the East, but in a hideous bracket including Georgia, Louisiana Tech and another difficult team as the No. 4 seed. Then I saw Notre Dame come up in a relatively �easy� Midwest region � a clear sign, I think, of who the selection committee really thinks is the top team in the country, the one that has earned a slightly easier road to St. Louis based on its performance throughout the season. God knows UConn�s been given a few damn breaks over the years.

Then the men�s tournament. Despite a rough end to the season, the Irish made their first return to the Big Dance in 12 years, earning a No. 6 seed in the West, where they�ll open up against Xavier, a team they beat in last year�s NIT. They�re not as high as they could�ve been had they not faltered at the end, but they weren�t dropped as low as they could�ve been, either. It was a pretty decent day for ND.

David, a freelance photographer who shoots for many minor league teams in New Jersey and elsewhere, called me after he returned from Ft. Myers. We went to Hops, a microbrew-restaurant, for dinner and gawked at the waitresses before stopping by a friend of Dave�s, a guy who played in the Phillies system in the 90s. After watching a spectacular episode of �The Sopranos,� I settled in for a quiet evening before tomorrow�s exhibition game. �The Sopranos� rebounded from a medicore season premiere, if you ask me. The first episode � the FBI bugging Tony�s house � last week was better than the second � Livia�s death � and I think all the hype and expectation raised hopes to dangerous heights, and the two-hour premiere was a bit of a letdown. But they rebounded nicely this week. I�ve never laughed so much at the show, which is meant to be funny. The best lines from tonight:

Christopher: �Don�t disrespect the pizza parlor!�

Tony: �What, your father never cut of a pinky in front of you?�

Tony: �So I had a heart-to-heart with Buckwheat.� (Disclaimer: I do not condone the racism the statement implies, but an informed, intelligent viewer will realize the context and aim of the phrasing and understand it does not promote or tolerate such viewpoints in everyday usage.)

Damn � there was one more that stuck out at the time, but I can�t for the life of me remember it now. It was toward the end of the show, which is part of the reason. The beers at dinner and the one I just had in my room are others.

And now I watch the SAG Awards on TNT � a repeat of the show I already saw the end of � comfortably in my king size bed in my warm Florida hotel room, wearing fewer clothes than I likely would were I at home, because it�s Florida and it�s spring break, though I�m miles from the beach � how many I have no idea, because distances are deceiving down here.

Sarah Jessica Parker really needs to work on her acceptance speeches, because she stutters and stumbles through the whole thing. What is wrong with her � she�s been winning awards a lot more recently, so you�d think she�d get better at it, or at least start working on it.

Brian Denehy rocks, and I�m more pissed now that I didn�t see him in �Death of A Salesman� in New York when I had the chance. He just won for outstanding male actor in a television movie or miniseries because they put a performance of the play on TV. Before, the SAG president gave his addess, and the current union prez is William Daniels � KITT! He was the teacher on �Boy Meets World� apparently, but before that he was the voice of the talking black t-top that Michael Knight used on his �crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the powerless� or whatever it was he did. I just liked the cool car, of course.

I need sleep.

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