12-5/Omi the Magnificent

Today is the two year anniversary of Omi's passing. Here's a story of her greatness.

In high school, I decided to concentrate on "my studies," so I never played Prep baseball. Because I could have, you know. They wanted me. Really. Seriously.

Anyway, while concentrating on my studies, and driving around Bayside looking for the perfect slice of pizza, I decided to satiate my baseball needs by playing summer ball. Of course it was a team made up of anyone from Bayside Little League who wanted to play, but I would tell everyone,

"It's a travel team." sniff, serious face.

It was also my living proof of why I didn't play baseball in High School. It has nothing to do with me being scared of not finishing the running portion of the tryouts, or Brother Michael with the red hair. Either way, if I didn't spend all that extra time studying and not playing High School ball, I'd never be where I am today.

(Highlights - I make fresh pizza dough and cook for my mommy. Reminds me of when Robbie Hart tells Julia in the Wedding Singer,

"No, you're the best." julia

"At what? People eat prime rib and I sing." Robbie )

When people ask me if I played High School, I always say no, but I played on an elite [voluntary] travel team.

When they ask me where we played, I'd say - all over queens. [behind waldbaum's in college point]

Where Omi came in.

Omi and Opi would come to alot of games. And Omi was there when I had a little wardrobe malfunction. Every year we would get these cotton 2 button jerseys that fit, eh, ok. This summer, particularly, the jersey was real crap. They were a combination of silk and rubber, almost. The worst part about it was that it was very, um, "body conforming..."

Omi came to the rescue. I gave her the jersey one day, and with material from past jerseys, she actually built in extensions to the sides of the jersey. It was alot like a hockey goalie's jersey which had this to accommodate the extra room needed for equipment. By cutting up the seams on the sides, she inserted these extra pieces of old jerseys, giving me some nice breathing room in the front.

The jersey itself looked like a car that had been in an accident, and the doors only repainted, but hot damn, was I comfy.

Now when the hot dog/soda truck would show up, I would have no trouble doing what I do best.

I hope you can still watch me play baseball in Heaven. But turn it off when I get home, or when I get near a buffet. Ill be sure to start using that ab roller from Christmas '03 real soon.

With love.

ck