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Monday, Sept. 29, 2003 - 4:08 p.m.

Weekend roundup

My cousin Scott's son Alex -- who turns 1 today or tomorrow and whose birthday party was Saturday -- has got to be one of the most well-behaved babies ever. I've generally been a little apprehensive when people are like, "Here! You want to hold him!?" because they inevitably get put in my arms, turn around and notice the unfamiliar person entrusted with their safety, and immediately contort their faces into a shrill wail.

Not Alex. In the half-dozen times I've seen him, he's been an active, fidgety, happy kid who doesn't cry or fuss much. On Saturday, as my uncle -- that would be Alex's grandfather -- and I sat on the couch, Alex made his way over to us (or someone placed him there) and was put on the couch between us. Alex alternated between sitting down and standing up, turning to look behind me at the shiny balloons and point at them. To get from a sitting position to a standing one, he'd push against me, arching his back and planting his head in my chest to get himself up. My cousin Donna, of course, was there to take 18 pictures of all this.

From Alex's party, Casey and I drove to Philadelphia to visit Jaime. Later that night, after dinner and a walk through the old part of the city past all the historical sites (including a series of plaques embedded in the sidewalk to recognize the signers of the Declaration of Independence, including Reese Witherspoon's great great great grand-something, John Witherspoon of New Jersey), we ended up at one of the more popular bars in the area. While standing at the bar upstairs, a group of people came in and one of them looked very familiar to me. She was; I'd met her the second weekend at Notre Dame when we both went on a bus trip to Chicago for the opening football game against Northwestern. We'd run into one another during our four years there and ended up with some other friends in common, but we haven't kept in touch.

But the reason I mention this is what happened when she introduced me to two of her Philly friends. "This is Dan," she said, "we went to college together."

Both of them, unsolicited, then said, "Oh, I'm sorry about today." Notre Dame lost to Purdue 23-10 on Saturday.

What bothers me is that they didn't say it because they are truly sorry. They said it because they're happy for Notre Dame's misfortunes and they want to rub it in. Why? There's no need for that. It's just spiteful and mean. Upon meeting Michigan grads last year after Notre Dame pulled off a big upset, I didn't respond with a sneer and say, "Oh, I'm sorry about last week's game." And when I am introduced to someone and I find out that their alma mater may have recently lost unexpectedly, I don't bring it up to kick them when they're down. I'll mention it if I happened to see the game, and then I'll be prepared for a more involved conversation about the finer details of the contest. But if I only saw the score on the ticker or through word-of-mouth, I'm not going to go shooting mine off simply to take pleasure in someone else's frustration.

Yesterday, Casey went off to explore the shops of Walnut St. and the paintings at the art museum while Jaime, her boyfriend Dan and her brother Brett and I climbed up to the 700 level for the final game at Veterans Stadium. The Phillies blew it again, just as they did last week when they were still in the playoff hunt, but the fans gave them a hearty cheer during the postgame closing ceremonies. Jim Thome, the first baseman who hit 47 home runs this season, may be the most popular Phillie ever by the time his career is complete. He received nearly as loud an ovation as the Hall of Fame third baseman Mike Schmidt, whose 48 home runs in 1980 may not be the team record for much longer.

With the ceremonies lasting longer than we expected, we didn't return to Jaime's apartment until 6:15, an hour after Casey had finished her sightseeing. She and I quickly brought our things down to the car and got on the road, intent on making it home in no longer than two hours (our time in transit on Saturday) so that we wouldn't miss the 9 p.m. Alias premiere. And, woah. As I did last season, I will give J.J. some time here to see where it all goes, but I had a distinct feeling toward the end of the episode that I figure was one of two things:

1. I don't like it. I don't really like the changes. I don't like Sloan being a good guy, I don't like Vaughn being a wimp, I don't like that bald guy from Wayne's World (and a host of other things) being the bad guy in the CIA in place of the other bald guy. I don't like the apparent end of the Rimbaldi quest. And I don't like the lack of Lena Olin.

2. I love it. J.J. did such a good job of throwing the whole thing out of whack that what I was feeling was supposed to be akin to what Sydney was feeling by having her world torn apart. There is certainly some promise, because we obviously haven't seen the last of Irina, and that video footage at the end has opened up a whole new mystery. The coming attractions set up a thrilling few weeks to come. I also suspect we'll soon find out that Sloan has set up one hell of a cover operation if he's able to be lauded as a man of the year and give millions to feed hungry children while also scheming to take over the world, not to mention have the CIA trust him. Finally, after watching the first season again on DVD, Syd and her father have come a long way in their relationship. It's quite a contrast, if you watch those first episodes so closely to watching this third season premiere.

Oh, so much going on today. Boston can't keep its gorillas caged and the White House continues to lie, cheat and steal to fit its agenda.

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