2004-08-03 - 3:34 a.m.

Nomar.

The logical side of me--the part of me that was getting myself ready for the eventuality of his being traded somewhere, and it was going to happen, understands that the Sox did the best they could do with the situation they found themselves in.

But the emotional side of me--the part of me that calls the logical side of me into existence, that (admit it or not) employs the logical side of me, pays its debt, takes it to a company outing once a year, this part is pretty bummed right now.

I guess that�s it. Baseball is a taxing sport to follow, especially now when you get attached to players--no matter which team you follow--just to see them leave.

But I got fooled on Nomar. I honestly thought he�d be cradle-to-grave, and I think that�s what bothers me the most. I mean, how do you let a guy go when he�s become one of the best SNL skit punch-lines of the past ten years? When the city of Boston has all but renamed the new Kenmore Station in his honor?

I mean, Nomar is a small but significant part of my identity. Yeah? But we got Nomar. Watching a Sox/Yanks game played at Fenway and 40,000 people screaming No-mar�s bett-er! No-mar�s bett-er!

I mean, come on. Right before I graduated college, and with a bunch of college folks, I saw him hit two grand slams and a home run to destroy Seattle. Thats Nomar's Woodstock, and I was at that game. And of course there�s the time I met him at Dick�s Last resort, and asked him to sign my autograph. (To which his reply was I dunno--it�s be pretty hard for me to sign YOUR AUTOGRAPH. Maybe the best person who can sign YOUR AUTOGRAPH is YOU. To which my reply, as I extended a napkin and towards him was Can you sign this? He did not).

But they had to let him go. The Roommate was very upset about this, so here�s as close a parallel as I can make for girls:

You�ve kinda known about a way-off-the-radar guy for awhile, and become friends in 1994. You�re dating an older fellow that looks a little like Papa Gino. In 1996, you start flirting with this new long-shot guy that nobody knows about, let�s call him Nomar, and this results in some scandal over pillowfights and ice cream, as Papa Gino and you have been a popular item for awhile. The taking-a-chance flirting becomes full blown that year, and all of a sudden you�re spending more time with the new boy, and you're realizing that he's very, very special, enough so that he's worth a breakup with Papa Gino. And suddenly it�s official--it had to be done. That new boy is your new starting shortstop, and you see Papa Gino maybe ten or so more times and never hear from him again.

And for the next four years, it�s bliss. He keeps getting better and better. You go out to shows and everyone�s looking at him, but he can also make you breakfast in bed on some special mornings, and he can clean. Most importantly, he�s into your relationship, and he really does make you a better person. He�s always on. He gets along with your friends, your old ones as well as the ones that come and go, and has a good time with all of them, and everyone has a good time, but in the end, it�s him.

It�s the year 2000, and you�re convinced that after all those years you�ve gone without taking home the big prize, you�re convinced he�s the one to get you there.

But then one night in 2001 he gets into a fight with a jerk and hurts his wrist. He takes his time to nurture his wound, and all of a sudden he�s not there as much. You don�t question this, at all, but you remember this as the beginning of the end.

In 2002, things get back to normal, and he�s there for you again. But at this point in his absence you�ve met some new friends, and it�s not about him all the time. 2003, again, is great. It�s great that you�ve been with this guy for so many years, that he�s still making the breakfasts in bed--not as often as before, but that�s okay. He�s still him--he�s still special, and one day it�s gonna happen.

But the end of that year--well, it�s gonna be your wedding. It�s finally time. It�s destiny. Everyone�s contributing, friends are coming out of the woodwork to help out, and you�ve never been happier--I mean, it�s really gonna happen. But then, he�s all of a sudden not really into it. He gets into a funk. He shows up for rehearsal but it�s like he�s not really there.

And then, the night before, the wedding is called off because the floral manager left the flowers in their pitchers too long, ruining everything.

The wedding gets rescheduled for the same time, next year. And, over the summer, you start to have doubts. He�s been saying that he wants more from you, when you�ve already been giving all you can, especially given the new comittments you made that were spurred on to fill his void during the wrist injury. You start to wonder if, as great as he is, if there�s something a little bit better out there for you. You start IM-ing a dude from Texas, but it doesn�t work out. But your fiancee finds out, despite your discretion, and he loses it. You tell him that it�s over between you and the Texas guy, but he knows it�s because the Texas guy has been taken--that�s the reason (and he's right).

And your fiancee mopes about, is never there for you, and when he is he�s sullen and no fun to be with. He clearly does not want to be with you anymore, but can�t leave you either. And he's clearly, probably, clearly going to leave, and soon. It's hard to read his heart now, when before you knew that every beat was for you. But at the same time this is supposed to be the year of your life--your friends are still there, and you start doing things without him. You�re concerned about him, you want to be there for him, you think back on all of the good years and honestly hope you can work it out, but it becomes increasingly more apparent that it�s not going to work out--that there�s no joy left in the relationship for either one of you. And it�s so fucking sad, but that�s the way it is.

You fight all the time. You both threaten to leave. And then one day he does--you let him go so he can be happy--it sucks, and the next thing you see is him dating a really cute girl, just like you from Chicago, and you�re kinda dating an okay guy from Minnesota and another one from Montreal, both pretty good in the doing the right things department, but not him, with another guy you�re going to see soon of whom you have equally low expectations.

And the thing that hurts the most, the dagger through your heart, is that he�s happy with the new girl--that he�s laughing and smiling, acting positive like you haven't seen for forever and know you would never see again, approaching his new relationship with the same kind of ease that was once the fixture of your old one.

And there�s no replacing him. It's not like getting a new and better TV--it's not like it's a matter of money to replace exactly what you had and also to upgrade to what you hadn't been getting. It's starting over from scratch, after all those years. It's not for a long time. He might amount to the best best guy that you�ll ever have dated. Ever. Period.

But, blame whoever you want. Blame yourself if you want to, for not giving more. Blame him, if you want to, for the same reason. The whole thing is, it wasn�t working out anymore. There was no way it was ever going to work out again. It had gotten to the point where it was demeaning you both, and your friends were sick of hearing about your problems.

You had to let him go--you�re a great person with a great history of greatness--it�ll work out. Maybe marriage is three years away now. Maybe it�ll never happen. But it�d never, ever happen with the wrong guy. It just wouldn�t work, and you were smart enough to get out while you still could.

If he winds up ending up with that girl from Chicago, you�ll be happy for him, of course.

And you know that around the corner is that guy who�se gonna make you forget all about everything, and take you right to the altar and say yes.

And this time, and remember this, you'll do it right.