I knew there had to be a reason that I've always liked
Julia Stiles' films.
Her piece in today's Wall Street Journal confirms a belief I've held for four decades -- women who like baseball are cool, and those that understand it are sexy.

(Julia writes: "Liván Hernandez is a solid fifth, because he can throw a lot of innings with predictable efficiency." Mesmerizing. Or how about, "It was kind of cute to have a sushi roll named after Ichiro Suzuki at Safeco Field . . . and you might expect Maryland crab cakes at Camden Yards, but honestly — fish at a baseball game?")
I met Debbie on a road trip, on a bus, from Cleveland to Milwaukee to watch an Indians-Brewers game, September 6, 1986. (I found a wife the day Greg Swindell got his first MLB victory.) We've been to 30-plus stadiums together. We've watched countless games on TV, many with me distracted by the paper or a magazine while she's screaming at the umpires.
Wedded bliss!