I was at the gym last night, in the middle of an “easy run” (no faster than a 10:00 pace), on the treadmill.. and I saw this woman get on the StairMaster or whatever, very cute… and she’s wearing a Boston Red Sox shirt to work out in.

And my first thought was, “I’ll bet she bought that after Boston won the Series this year. I should go over to her and ask her if she’s a fair-weather fan.” It sounded good in my head, it sounded cocky, and I could make it funny. It was a starting point, at any rate. The few times I’ve tried to talk to women working out I get a lukewarm response — Like the time I hissed at a woman on the next elliptical trainer over, “Stop staring at me!” She said, “Oh” and then got off the machine and left. I must have embarrassed her.

Back to last night, Boston Red Sox. By the time I finished running, though, I couldn’t find her. She must have finished and left. Bummer.

And, you know, I like baseball but I’m not a complete nut about it. I remembered the name of the player on the woman’s shirt, and decided to Google him. Funny… it was Nomar Garciaparra, shortstop, who was traded from Boston to the Cubs this year… the year the Sox broke their curse.

From one cursed team to another… now that’s irony.

So, if I had talked to that woman last night, and asked her that question, it would have turned out to be a really funny conversation. Because I’d be all cocky and knowing, but (assuming from the fact that she owned a Boston shirt from before the Sox broke their curse, that she was, in fact, a true fan) she could have lectured me about Boston and loyalty and schooled me in baseball knowledge and gotten all indignant… and I could have, oh I don’t know, offerred dinner to make up for the insult or something.

Dammit, things always turn out better in my head.