Wrapping things up…

 

It finally hit me last night that I only have a few days left here. For the past few weeks I’ve been telling myself that I’m ready to be back in comfortable old Mystic with my friends, my family and (most importantly) my dog, but now that it’s so close to the end I’m feeling pretty depressed. It’s hard to be in a situation where you know that a lot of the people who have become some of your closest friends—your family, really—are only a week away from walking out of your life.

Some live close to me, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, New York; others live further away, Minnesota, Ohio and Colorado. Some live on a different continent altogether, and some I think live on a different planet. The one thing they all have in common? They have all changed me. I have taken a piece of each of them and made it my own.

I have learned to be more open, more caring, more independent, more sensitive, more of a man? I don’t know about that last one, but I definitely know much more about myself today than I did on January 5–the day I arrived here–and these people are a huge part of that.

I guess this experience should help prepare me to leave Bonas after graduation next year, but this seems different. Not only am I losing these people, I’m losing Perugia. I’m losing the place that has inexplicably become home in a little less than four months. I’m losing sunny days on the steps of the duomo, late nights at the secret bakeries, and early mornings wake up calls from the construction workers jack-hammering and sawing outside my window.

I would like to think that someday I’ll return to Italy to relive some of my finest days in the land of pizza and wine, but nothing’s guaranteed. I know that even if I do come back it will never be the same; a few weeks of nomadic travelling through a country simply cannot compare with calling it “home” for four months.

It’s different because we’ve seen Italy warts and all, and we still love it. We have loved Italia on the sunniest days just as we have on the snowiest days an Italian could remember. We have loved it on happy days and sad days; at our highest points and our lowest. And, to paraphrase a friend, we’d like to think that Italy loved us back.

It’s funny to think about how the weather has mirrored my emotions throughout the semester. In January the weather was gorgeous. It was cold, but not New England cold. The sun was out every day and it seemed warm enough to get by without wearing a winter coat. These first few weeks of nice weather came at a time when everyone was happy just to be here and excited about all of the new experiences that awaited us. The honeymoon period ended when February began. Homesickness started to creep into my life just as the snow started to pummel the cobblestone streets of Perugia. The ridiculous amount of snow made it hard to walk anywhere (you know those old people who say that they used to have to walk a mile in the snow to get to and from school, uphill both ways…yeah it turns out that’s not too far from the truth here in Perugia.) Work was piling up as fast as the snow and I was none too pleased about either. Spring break was really the turning point.

You see, it was during spring break that I realized that Perugia was home and I was shocked at how much I missed it after only a week away. We got back from spring break and the weather Gods shined upon us. It was so nice for three weeks that I almost forgot that we weren’t yet in summer. Departure was a distant thought and we were just enjoying each other and living in the moment. We left for Easter break wearing shorts and came back wearing winter jackets and rain gear. The weather shifted one last time and since then the sunny days have been few and far between. The rain has made this period of mourning all the more depressing, but I’m still holding out hope for just one last sunny day. One last day to sit on the steps and enjoy a gelato or a cold beer, one last day to leave my apartment wearing shorts and a tee shirt…one last day of paradise.

I know that nothing can take this semester away from me, but it’s hard to accept that in less than a week I’ll be speaking of it strictly in the past tense. I’m not ready for that and I’m not ready to lose the people and places that have become so important to me, but such is life.

It’s a comedy at times and a tragedy at others. What’s really important is that we keep learning and growing through it all. The great moments inspire us and give us confidence and—just as importantly—the not-so-great keep us grounded, but both provide us important lessons to draw from as life moves forward.

I certainly know that I have learned and grown immensely during my time in Italy. This semester has been amazing, hilarious, breath-taking, embarrassing, happy, sad and every emotion in between and I wouldn’t trade even a minute of it for anything in the world…

Love and thanks for reading about my adventures throughout the semester, and I hope to speak to you on the other side,

AT

All About Amsterdam

Howdy Y’all,

It has been a LONG time since I’ve written a proper blog and I have good reason…well kind of. Starting with the last week of March I’ve had at least one major assignment or exam per week and obviously school work takes precedent over blog writing.

Since you last heard from me I’ve visited Amsterdam, Rome (again) and had a few more tastings for my food class. Also, I’ve finished up my classes for the semester and experienced Easter in Italy.

Let’s start from the top: Amsterdam…Amster-DAMN it was a good time! Sorry, I couldn’t resist. The Netherlands’ capitol city was very cool, very unique and very mellow. My friend Chris put it best when he said, “every city has a pulse and this one is extremely slow.” This is a result of a few things: the lack of automobiles in favor of bicycles, the legalization (strike that, “high tolerance”) of marijuana, and the general attitude of the city’s residents all play into it.

Although I was meeting up with my roommate from St. Bonaventure I happened to be on the same flight as two other friends from my Italian school. A strange coincidence, but it definitely made the trip better.

The trip was made even better because we had a free place to crash with a friend of a friend that I was travelling with. She’s studying abroad at the Amsterdam Business School (a surprisingly cutting edge school with one of the coolest academic buildings I’ve ever seen) this semester and gave us great advice on where to go, what to eat and how to save money in an expensive city. She also found us three museum passes that gave us free access to the Van Gogh, Nemo (Science) and Amsterdam Art museums.

The highlight of the weekend, however, was our trip to the Artis—also known as the Amsterdam Zoo. I can’t remember the last time I went to a zoo, so this was a very cool experience. It’s hard to really compare it to a US zoo because I’m so unfamiliar with them, but this zoo seemed very relaxed. The monkeys and birds in the zoo had free roam of the place, there was a full aquarium, two botanical gardens and a ton of the animals had babies with them (elephants, gorillas, giraffes, zebras, etc.)

After spending an entire day at the zoo we went back to our place and relaxed for a few hours before going out to see the red light district at night. That was an interesting experience to say the least. It was even crazier than I had imagined with hookers trying to lure us into their windows and sketchy dudes offering us all kinds of drugs at every corner. Seeing the red light district is definitely something I’ll never forget.

We left Amsterdam early on Sunday morning and Chris and I headed to Rome for a few days in the ancient city before a midweek retreat to Perugia.

Our first day in Rome was relatively calm; we didn’t get into the centro historico (historical center) until after 4 due to some confusion with the shuttle schedule and by then everything was closed, so we just meandered around. We kind of underestimated the Easter crowds and I must say I was surprised at how packed the streets were. The main road that leads past the coliseum was literally shut down and people were walking around with bottles of wine and beer, singing songs and just being gleeful. After a few hours of walking around we headed back to our hostel, drank some vino in the little rooftop garden area and got to bed early.

The next day we woke up early so that Chris could get a full day in the city before we left for Perugia. Since I had already seen all of the most famous Roman sites I was happy to walk around in the more unknown areas of town while Chris explored the ancient ruins and the Coliseum. We met up at the Vatican in the early afternoon and as I was walking up towards St Peter’s Basilica I actually got to see the Pope speaking for a few minutes. Although I could only see him on the massive screens in the piazza it was a pretty cool experience.

We got back to Perugia on Monday night and Chris stayed with me until Thursday. It was cool to get an outsider’s perspective on the city I now call home, and I was happy to hear him call it the most beautiful place he’s visited.

In the two weeks surrounding this wonderful weekend I had to make three presentations, write two massive research papers and finely edit three stories to be submitted in my creative writing class’s anthology. Having a little retreat was just what I needed and now I’m in the home stretch. I finished up regular classes last Thursday and now all that separates me from summer is a review session tomorrow, one last research paper and four final exams.

It’s insane how fast my time here has flown by, but I guess that’s just the way life goes. Today is April 17^th, 2012 and in 10 days I’ll be back in America. The journey is ending, but I’d like to think that my adventures in traveling are only just beginning.

 

Until next time, keep it real my friends…

 

AT

P.S. I’ll post some pictures of this trip soon, stay on the lookout

Apologies

Loyal readership,
I’m sorry that it’s been such a long time since I’ve posted anything new. It’s been a hectic few weeks to say the least and I’m just now finding some time to write even a short post. Hopefully by the end of the weekend I’ll write something a bit longer to update you all on how my past few weeks have been. In the mean time enjoy this story that I wrote for my creative writing class!

The Poopy Lady
Well, it finally happened. After 21 years of avoiding it, my luck finally ran out on a rainy night in Venice and I stepped in a freshly planted pile of puppy poop.
As I crisscrossed the confusing grid of Venician streets and canals doggy doo was the furthest thing from my mind, but as I look back on the incident I can’t say that I didn’t have it coming.
It all started when I was only seven years old. I got home from second grade and after months of going from shelter to shelter my parents had finally chosen a dog. My mom, a “cat person” growing up, had put this day off for as long as possible, but my younger sister, Amy, had finally worn her down.
Amy and I had barely made it through the door when my dad told us to wait where we stood and close our eyes. I opened them and found myself staring directly at the ugliest dog I had ever seen. Amy immediately started bawling, saying that she wanted a cute little puppy, not some ugly old mutt, but I was happy. I finally had my very own dog; and a unique one at that.
Max was at the tail end of his life, with one blue eye and one brown, a shaggy black and white coat and a nose so dry it looked like it could crumble into dust at any moment. There was no doubt that my mom had picked him because she felt bad that nobody else likely would, and I couldn’t fault her for it.
Although Amy wouldn’t give Max the time of day I took to him immediately. I’d take him for walks, bring him to pick up football and baseball games and even let him sleep in my room sometimes. But when I think of Max today the first thing that comes to mind is how he and I forever ruined my family’s relationship with our next door neighbor.
It was at the very end of a walk and Max ran a little bit ahead of me as I stopped to talk to a friend who lived a few houses down. When I turned around he was kicking grass backwards onto my neighbor’s lawn. This could only mean one thing: Max had taken care of business, so to speak, right in the middle of her yard. As I said goodbye to my buddy and started towards my house I saw the neighbor—whose name I can’t even remember—fling open her door and brutishly stomp towards Max (who was basking in the glory of his newly claimed territory.)
We reached Max at the same time and she grabbed my ear, yelling big words at me as I started to cry. Max, the always helpful companion, laid down on the ground and rolled onto his back.
As I continued to cry and she continued to yell I looked down and realized that her left foot was almost fully engulfed in Max’s excrement. This cheered me up and I began to laugh, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I wriggled out of her grip.
I made a dash for freedom, Max closely in toe, and when I made it home I told my parents what had happened. They seemed mad at both me and my neighbor, but insisted that I go back over and apologize.
Later that night my dad took me next door to make amends. After getting another earful, cleaning up Max’s mess and going home with my tail between my legs I drew a picture of my neighbor standing in doo-doo; titling my magnum opus “Poopy Lady.”
After that day I witnessed a few friends make the same mistake as the poopy lady, and I always laughed just as hard as I had the first time. I’d always brag that it had never happened to me, so when it happened to me I couldn’t help but to chuckle.
It was 11:30 p.m., only a half an hour before the check in time at my hostel was over, and I stood at a fork in the road. I could forge ahead and hope to come out at the piazza I was searching for, or go back to the Grand Canal and try to see where I had gone wrong.
I decided it was wise to just keep moving forward, and with my head focused on my map I took a short step with my right foot and slipped forward into a split. I quickly regained my balance and stood up straight, but I had immediately realized what had happened. I stood still for a brief moment to regain my bearings. Finally, I took a begrudging glance down to see what I already knew to be waiting below.
It was dog poop, alright, and not just any dog poop. This was some of the most vile dog poop I’ve seen in all my days, and I’m no stranger to the subject. I’ve had three dogs since Max and if any of them had ever produced something as orange, stinky, wet and horrifying as what I saw that night I would’ve rushed them to the vet. If this poop were an Italian pizza it would be Pizza Diavola; because only the devil could create something so heinous.
As I looked around I saw a woman staring at me from about 15 feet away, chuckling softly to herself as she lit a cigarette. Behind me a young couple had momentarily stopped their make out session to laugh almost hysterically at my less than acrobatic performance.
A wave of embarrassment crashed over me, but then I realized that these people don’t know me and they’ll probably never see me again. Then I thought about how hard I would be laughing if I could see an instant replay of the last two minutes. Why not make this a story that they could tell friends for years?
“Screw it,” I muttered quietly as I took a bow for my audience and continued on my way. Well, poopy lady, I thought, it looks like you’ve finally gotten your revenge.

Milan and More

Helllllooooo everybody and let me apologize for my extended disappearance. It has been a busy few weeks and I just really haven’t had the time to write anything that isn’t class related. As I’ve discussed many times before, time disappears faster than I can really make sense of here in Italy. The weather has been in the 70’s and we haven’t seen a drop of rain in what seems like weeks. I have only a month left in Italy and I plan to make the most of my remaining time here, but I do have one last school field trip to write about.

Two weekends ago I had my last field trip of the semester with my Leonardo da Vinci class. The trip began at 6 a.m. Friday when we were herded onto a bus headed for Florence to see Leonardo’s surviving works in the city where he really got his start as an artist. We went to the Uffizi museum to see Leonardo’s Anunciation, Madonna of the Rocks and Adoration of Kings and Raphael’s Birth of Venus. Afterwards we had some time to just walk around Florence, and taking the advice of a friend who knows the city better than most I bought a pineapple popsicle. I don’t know how they did it, but there were actual pieces of pineapple in every bite; it was amazing.

After a five hour drive up to Milan a group of us went to a pizzeria for dinner—a dinner I left early to watch the depressing final minutes of St. Bonaventure’s first round loss to Florida State—and had a few glasses of wine before calling it a night. The next morning we were up early and on the road at 9 for our 9:30 appointment at The Last Supper, one of Leonardo’s most famous works. So many people want to see this painting that our teacher had to book our viewing four months in advance. The giant fresco is held in a large hall in the church of Santa Marie delle Grazie formerly used as a dining hall for the Sforza family and the monks who lived in the church. Unfortunately, the kitchen was right behind the wall that the painting is on, so the intense heat caused it to deteriorate faster than it would have otherwise. There have been two major restorations, but it still looks good. I honestly can’t describe just how awesome it was to see in person. It’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen in person and it really is a masterpiece. The depth of the painting is incredible and all of the figures, although slightly deteriorated, are very detailed and still look good. Although cameras were forbidden, I was able to sneak my small video camera in and got a good shot of the painting with my camera in my sleeve. Here are some of the frames from that video.

My secret agent shot of The Last Supper

We spent the rest of the day around, seeing another Leonardo work (the Sala del’Asse) and Michelangelo’s last sculpture among other cool things in the Sforza Castle and one of the biggest cathedrals in the world before lunch and another Leonardo-centric museum—which housed Portrait of a Musician, Portrait of a Lady, and the largest collection of his notebook pages in the world—before heading back to Perugia.

Giant Milanese church

I had almost forgotten that it was St. Patrick’s Day when I got to the city center and saw thousands of people milling about in the main piazza. I am not exaggerating at all when I present that number. There were people as far as the eye could see, some dressed in green, some with painted faces or shamrocks on their fingernails and all undoubtedly wasted off Guinness and Jameson.

After a quick trip home to shower and eat a quick dinner I went out to see the madness first hand. I met up with a few friends and we got our drinks and decided to just go sit on the steps and people watch for a little bit. With everyone being so intoxicated and the weather being so warm this was one of the funniest things we could have done. There were big circles forming where people were essentially doing an Irish jig, fights breaking out every few minutes and an overpowering concoction of alcohol, tobacco and marijuana aromas floating through the night air. We ended up staying on the steps until the wee hours of the morning, I worked on my Italian with some newfound friends and by the time I went to bed at 4 a.m. I was completely exhausted. Being sober (save for one Guinness to celebrate the holiday­) on St. Patrick’s Day is funnier than anything because all the drunk people just assume you’re as gone as they are. They all want to put their arms around you, tell you some important story from their life or how much of a great friend/guy/person/human you are.

Anyways, that was how my last field trip and first St. Patrick’s Day in Italy were. This weekend I went to a nearby lake with a bunch of friends. It was a good time and I loved getting some time on a beach. It made me realize how much I love spending my summers in Mystic. I’ve been spoiled to live so close to the ocean for my entire life and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stray too far from the water. Whether that is the Atlantic or the Pacific Ocean, or maybe even a big lake I need the water in my life. But as I sit here on the steps in the center of Perugia, watching people float in and out of the piazza like waves in the ocean, hearing muffled laughter from the newly planted outdoor tables at the café to my left and the soft trickling water from the fountain to my right and feeling the sun slowly brown my pale skin, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

 

Until next time…

 

AT

Grand Canal

The Grand Canal in Venice

Real Belgian Waffles

Our first experience with the Belgian treat

Spring Break (Part II) and BEYOND!

Hello friends, family, animals, athletes, bartenders, carpenters, and anyone else who may be reading this blog post.

When I last wrote I had just gotten back from spring break and was recapping the epic saga.

I was on my way to Brussels, the capitol city of the European Union, to spend the middle of my break amongst the Belgians. I was staying with two friends from Italy and, unlike my place of residence in Dublin, our hostel was fantastic. Describing it as a hostel is kind of misleading because it was really more of an apartment. We rented it for two nights through a travel agency in town and it was really nice. We had our own kitchen and dining room and each of us got our own room.

After living in Italy for the past two months it was no surprise that one of the first things we all thought about was the food in Belgium. The main delicacies in Brussels were French fries, Belgian waffles, chocolate and Belgian beer. Although all of them were tasty, none are even remotely healthy, so it was surprising to see so many skinny people walking around. Chocolate was the most popular of the four, however, and we must have seen about 50 chocolate shops in the relatively small city center. Pretty much everywhere I turned there was a new shop with different chocolates to sample.

The waffles were my personal favorite. I got three while I was there, and I enjoyed each one more than the last. The first was from a waffle stand near the train station where I paid 3 euro for a waffle with strawberries, white chocolate and whipped cream. The next waffle, which I ate for dinner that night, had even more strawberries, delicately sprinkled with powdered sugar, drizzled with white and milk chocolate, then topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream…like I said, not the healthiest of cities.

On our second day we saw the famous Atomium building (pictured below) and then went to a planetarium to see a show called “Violent Universe.” The show talked about how many things could potentially wipe out humanity without warning, so I was understandably freaked out afterwards, but overall I thought it was a really good time. That night we enjoyed a few Belgian beers and went to a local bar to see a live band play some American hits from the 80’s and 90’s. I was a mellow night, but a really good time.

On Thursday I left Brussels and made the trip back to Italy. I flew into Venice and spent a night in the famous canaled city before going back to Perugia for a quiet weekend of relaxation and recovery.

I didn’t get into Venice until midnight, so by the time I found my hostel I was ready to sleep and resolved to wake up early the next morning to explore the ancient city. My alarm went off at 9 a.m. and by 9:30 I was out on the town. Although Venice is a really beautiful city, it is very difficult to navigate because every street looks almost identical and you find yourself trapped by the canals in a lot of directions. After a week of rain in Belgium and Ireland, Venice finally gave me the sunshine I had been craving, and I spent my last day of spring break wearing a tee shirt and jeans.

Unfortunately I wasted so much time between blog posts that my memory of the trips is already slightly faded. However, here’s one more recent happening that I remember quite clearly. Later on I’ll post my favorite pictures from Brussels and Venice for your viewing pleasure.

This Sunday my school, St. Bonaventure, won the Atlantic 10 Championship to clinch a spot in this year’s NCAA Tournament. Going into this weekend they were thought to be “on the bubble” for the NIT (a lesser tournament played in March,) but their impressive 67-56 victory over the Xavier Musketeers gave them an automatic berth in the big dance. Going into this season I had high expectations, but even at my most positive—and arguably disillusioned—moment I didn’t think we’d be dancin’ come March. Obviously I was ecstatic and I will be penciling my Bonnies into the sweet 16 despite their low seeding.

As if it couldn’t get any sweeter yesterday our Women’s team received a 5 seed in the Women’s NCAA Tournament and are receiving high praise from analysts across the major sports websites. For the first time in a few years I actually have a vested interest in this year’s March Madness.

Until next time my faithful readers….

 

AT

Spring Breakin’ (Part 1)

Today, March 5, is the two month anniversary of the day I said goodbye to my parents and boarded a plane destined for Rome to start my semester abroad. It seems like just days ago that I was moving into my apartment, meeting my roommates for the first time and unpacking all of my belongings, neatly organizing them in the small space at my disposal. I remember when I graduated high school people warned me to cherish the next four years, because “before you know it, college will be over and you’ll be headed for the ‘real world.”’ As cliché as their advice was it was absolutely true.

These past few months have served as evidence to that statement and last week, spring break, was no different.

For me, the recess started early on Friday, February 24 when, at 3:30am, I set off for the Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome with a group of other Umbra Institute students. We arrived at 9am for an 11:35 flight and had time to get some breakfast before going through security and finding our gate. The time that we were supposed to begin boarding came and went and it wasn’t until about noon that we finally got word that our flight had been delayed due to an airline strike, and we would be boarding around 1 p.m. if everything went right.

It was 1:30 by the time we all got on board and by 1:35, before we even touched off, I was asleep. By then I was completely exhausted from being awake for more than 30 consecutive hours and, although I wish I could’ve gotten my complimentary drink, I desperately needed a few hours of rest. When I woke up we were beginning our descent into the Cork, Ireland airport. When I turned to look out my window, all I could was a seemingly endless wall of menacingly grey storm clouds. To say that Ireland is always cloudy would be an understatement; I was there for parts of five days and saw the sun exactly one time.

Muah!

Once we landed and went through customs it was time to start seeing what Ireland had to offer. First up was Blarney Castle, where I met my roommate from the States who’s spending the semester in Ireland. The Castle grounds were beautiful. We spent a good part of the day exploring the vast fields, caves and dungeons before climbing the medieval castle to kiss the famous Blarney stone. Kissing the stone is allegedly good luck, but what no one seems to mention is that in order to kiss it you need to lean over the edge of the castle—which is about 130 feet tall—and hold on for dear life as you smooch the ancient stone.

The park closed a few hours after we got there and we were headed to Galway, my friend’s home for the spring, when we ran into our first problem. After spending 20 euro each on a bus ticket we were advised that there were, in fact, no more busses headed for Galway until the following morning. We took a bus to Limerick, about half way between Cork and Galway, and spent an hour or so looking for a hostel before we learned that there are none in town. We eventually broke down and begrudgingly spent 30 euro a piece on a taxi to take us back to Galway.

From that point on it was smooth sailing in Ireland. Galway was a good time, highlighted by narrowly avoiding a fist fight with some inebriated Irishmen who were convinced we had called them “pikeys,” (basically the Irish equivalent of white-trash) and a few enjoyable trips to the beach. After all, my love for the coast could only be suppressed for so long.

On Monday morning I traversed the entirety of the small island and arrived in Dublin around lunch time. My hostel seemed nice enough—although sharing a room with 11 other people is never going to be that fun of an experience—so I left my bag there and went off to explore the city.

My first stop was the Guinness storehouse, a museum of sorts focused around the patron drink of Ireland, which was really cool. They had an extensive section on advertising that I found really interesting and at the end of the tour we got to enjoy a Guinness in their “gravity bar.” In order to make the tour especially memorable they converted the top floor into a massive bar with a 360 degree view of Dublin and the Wickham mountains in the background. After looking at pictures of Guinness for a few hours it was pretty gratifying to be served a cold one fresh from the factory once I made it to the top.

A view of Dublin from the gravity bar, including part of the Guinness factory itself at the bottom

Afterwards I meandered around Dublin for a few hours more, checking out St. Patrick’s Square and a few of the other spots I had read about online before heading back to my hostel and going to bed early. I did this for two reasons: first of all, I had a flight at 6:30 a.m. the following morning and in order to be there on time I had arranged for a shuttle to pick me up at 5 a.m. Secondly, I had heard many a horror story of group hostels and how non-conducive to sleep they can sometimes be, so I figured that by knocking out early I could avoid this…oh how wrong I would be. I was awakened around 1 a.m. by a group of fellow travelers drunkenly stumbling into the room, singing some kind of drinking songs in an unfamiliar language and clinking bottles as they finished off the last of what I imagined to be quite a few Bulmers hard ciders over the span of the evening. Shortly after a melody of snores began and didn’t stop until I finally surrendered and went downstairs to use the computers at around 3:30.

My shuttle arrived on schedule and by 5:30 I was at the Dublin airport ready to take off for the next stop on my adventure. Brussels…

To be continued.

 

AT

The Saga of Bill Hall

My favorite baseball player is Robinson Cano, the second basemen for my beloved New York Yankees. I’ve been a huge Cano supporter ever since he was in the minor leagues. I read an article about him in the days leading up to the MLB Futures game (a game in which the highest touted prospects in the minor leagues compete for either the USA or World team) and fell in love with his sweet swing and easy going personality. I got on the Cano bandwagon so early that I actually own a Cano jersey from his rookie year when he wore the number 24 instead of his current 22. But as much as I love Robbie Cano I do have a short list of my favorite non-Yankees.

This is the kind of list that every big sports fan has tucked away in the back of their mind, but today mine is coming out for some fresh air. This hasn’t exactly been a secret—if you asked my little brother I’m sure he could identify all of these players as some of my favorites—but I’ve never really had a reason to discuss it publicly until today.

First player – D’Mitri Young (nickname: D’Meat Hook) during one of the countless days that I got “sick” during a big sports day (march madness, etc.) I stayed home to watch MLB’s opening day. This particular year featured the Tigers and the White Sox, if I remember correctly, and Young hit three home runs in the notoriously spacious Comerica Park. What an epic performance by the lovably plump first basemen. He has since retired due to complications from diabetes, which is unfortunate, but I still have a special place in my heart for him.

Second player – Ryan Doumit: catcher/1B/OF for the Twins. Doumit started his career with the Pirates before signing with Minnesota this offseason. The guy calls a great game from behind the plate and is a at the very least serviceable and at his best pretty damn good offensively. Plus, he’s a switch hitter. I can’t really explain exactly why I like Doumit so much, but I do.

Last player – Bill Hall: utility player for the NEW YORK YANKEES!!! The guy can play anywhere on the field, is solid defensively and above average offensively. Hall started his career with the Brewers then got traded to the Mariners; then he went to the Red Sox for a year before splitting last season between San Francisco and Houston. I had Bill Hall on my fantasy baseball team in 2005 and he lit it up for me, batting close to .300 with almost 20 home runs. Definitely a good season from a guy who not many people outside Milwaukee knew about. Then, in 2006 he hit a memorable walk off homerun using a pink bat on Mother’s Day. After that day I began trading for Bill Hall in baseball video games, giving him a spot on my fantasy team year in and year out and keeping tabs on how he was doing.

Unlike the other players on my list, Bill Hall has a special place in my heart. Let me explain…

June 3, 2010 – My dad, my brother and myself made pilgrimage to Fenway Park, my first trip to the “friendly confines” and one of my most memorable sports experiences to date. We arrived with a bus full of my dad’s coworkers and after exploring the outside of the park for a little while we decided it was time to go inside. When we saw a group of fans walking from underneath the centerfield bleachers onto the warning track we were confused, but decided to follow them and ask questions later.

What are the odds that three Yankees fans would go to a Red Sox game on fan appreciation day and get to go on the field and meet some of the players? Not good, but that’s exactly what the universe had in store for us. After walking around the warning track for a while and getting a unique look at the Green Monster we saw a bunch of fans gathered near the visitor’s dugout, so we went to see what all the fuss was about. We ended up getting to meet Marco Scutaro, Dustin Pedroia, Terry Francona, Adrian Beltre, Clay Buccholz, Jon Lester and even Dallas Braden of the visiting A’s, who had just pitched a perfect game about a month ago. But, as a Yankees fan, I was still kind of bummed. Why couldn’t this have happened to me at Yankee Stadium or on a day that the Yanks were the visiting team?

And then it happened.

My brother Luke, being well versed on my list of favorite players, hit my arm and incredulously muttered, “check out who’s coming our way.”

It was Bill Hall.

Naturally I jumped past all of the small children and old folks in my way and got right up against the rope that separated us from the infield. My hero approached. I got that nervous excitement in the pit of my stomach and clumsily told him that I was a Yankees fan, but I’m also a big Bill Hall fan. He was pretty humble, said thanks, posed for a quick picture and started to move down the line. But before he left my dad called out, “Hey Bill! Go get ‘em today man.”

He took a second, slowly turned and yelled back, “I will.” And get ‘em he did.

Batting eighth in the lineup, behind talentless ass-clown Darnell McDonald and the rotting corpse of Mike Lowell, Hall went 4-5 with 2 rbi, 4 runs scored, a double and a home run. On top of that the Red Sox STILL lost 9-8! Talk about the perfect day. I’m quite sure that Bill Hall doesn’t remember our exchange before the game and maybe he doesn’t even remember that game, but it was a day the three of us will never forget.

So why do I bring this up now? When I found out that the Yankees had invited him to spring training this year I was extremely excited and being the 21st century journalist that I am, I tweeted about my excitement. Here’s what I said:
 This morning when I woke up and checked my twitter page I learned that Bill Hall himself had re-tweeted my comment! (That means that he read it and appreciated it so much that he put it on his own twitter page for all of his followers to see.)

I have no doubt that Bill Hall will make the Yankees roster and play somewhere between 50-80 games this year batting around .265 with 16 home runs. Maybe he’ll have a signature Yankees moment, like Luis Sojo or Clay Bellinger before him, win a ring and live forever in Yankees lore. Whatever his fate, I know one thing: Bill Hall has made one devout sports fan from Connecticut a fan for life.

AT

VLOG #1 – Weekend Trip to Parma

Video blog of my recent trip to Parma and Modena. The commentary lags a little behind the video, but not so much that you should be confused. Enjoy!