"It was a pop fly, second out."
"Yeah, Matt Tebow has a concussion, but I hear he'll be able to play in next week's game."
"Now why would Girardi take Rivera out NOW??"
"What's the line for the Purdue, Notre Dame game?"
That's me talking.
Don't worry if you have no idea what any of that means. You are still in GirlLand, like I used to be.
Now I can spot Johnny Damon's at bat dance in an instant and tell you the over for a Miami game is probably a safe bet.
Conversations on Jessica Simpson's love life are a thing of the past. Instead, I hear all about the filly running in the third race at Belmont on Saturday. Of course, this is a one-sided conversation as I 1) tune out all things horse racing after Labor Day and 2) hate Belmont.
I will miss talking about books, nail polish and recipes. I now ask random strangers what they thought of last night's game fully prepared to break down and discuss each moment, play by play.
But I exaggerate. I do manage to shanghai the remote every now and then to enjoy a sitcom or two.
The deep down transformation, however, from pink dresses with bows to skipping shopping trips for Giants games is well underway.
This is an important message for Corey:
Do you really want to be married to a Scotty O'Dwyer with mascara? Wake up to a Tom O'Donnell with long hair?
No? Maybe we should spend less time on sports and more time on whether or not I should get highlights.