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players do.
    The Red Sux are so familiar to me at this point that it feels like incest. Thanks to the relentless close-ups you get on Fox, I can count Kevin Youkilis’s nose hairs.
    We actually beat them in Monday’s opener on the 21st. Wang pitches really well, and A-Rod homers for the third straight game.
    On the 22nd it is back to losing hell. Mussina is just—well, he is hopeless. He is supposed to give us a quality start, and instead he gives them seven runs. The good news is that I get an e-mail from Harvey Araton! He says he enjoyed my “tale of betrayal” and passed it on to Tom Jolly, the editor of the Times ’ sports section. I am about to rush into the living room to tell Michael when I notice another e-mail in my in-box. It is from Tom Jolly! He says he will definitely find a place for my essay in Sunday’s paper, provided the Yankees don’t go on a winning streak.
    â€œWe have to root against the Yankees until Sunday!” I tell Michael.
    â€œSo you’d sell them out for a chance to be in the Times ?”
    â€œYes,” I say, “I would.”
    We beat Boston in the finale on Wednesday, and I am nervous that my article will not run on Sunday after all. We hammer Schilling, and Pettitte pitches a beauty. Rotten luck.

    But then the Angels arrive for a weekend series, and I know my essay is as good as published. The Yankees are allergic to the rationalizes our dismal record against them with sound bites like “They always play us tough.” But the truth is the Yankees always spaz out against them. “Figgy.” “Vladie.” “K-Rod.” Give me a break.
    The three games this weekend go exactly the way I expected.
    We lose game one on Friday night. A-Rod hits his 19th homer, but the bullpen is horrendous, giving up seven runs in two innings.
    We lose game two on Saturday afternoon. Wang throws eight solid innings, but our bats need Viagra. I get an e-mail from a copy editor at the Times saying that since the Yankees have cooperated and lost two in a row, my divorce story will run the next day. I also get an e-mail from Richard Sandomir, who covers the media and business scene for the Times ’ sports section.
    â€œI sneaked an early peek at your essay, and I think it’s terrific,” he writes. “I’m hoping the Boss reads it and offers you some alimony.”
    Game three on Sunday completes the Angels’ sweep. Mussina does his job, but Proctor can’t record an out in the seventh. My divorce piece runs in today’s New York Times , so I am much too excited to care. The Times places the essay on the section’s back page and adorns it with a clever illustration showing a woman sawing herself free of a ball and chain—a ball with the Yankees’ logo on it.
    The huge response to the piece stuns me. I have a Web site that promotes my novels, but I didn’t expect the Times ’ readers to seek it out.
    There are supportive e-mails from other Yankee She-Fans. Like the one from Evalyn, who writes, “Only another female can understand the emotional attachment we have to the team.”
    There are funny e-mails from people I grew up with but have not seen in years. Like the one from Ken, who writes, “As I read your article, I recalled our trip to Yankee Stadium when the Mick had 499 home runs and we were hopingwe’d see number 500. I certainly remember that you are as nuts as I am about the Boys in Blue.”
    There are interesting e-mails from people I have never met. Like the one from Sandy McCartney, who writes that she, too, lives in Santa Barbara and that her husband is not only a lifelong Yankee fan but also the best friend of Yankees radio broadcaster John Sterling. And the one from Matt Silverman, the president of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, who wants to send me a Devil Rays care package and asks for my home address.
    There are smirking e-mails from Red Sox fans. Like the one from John,