I HATE the West Coast

Full disclosure: I am an old lady. Always have been. Always will be. My mom referred to me as her "little old lady" as a child and she still does.

I am happiest when I have a routine. I don't really like surprises. I have a hard time dresssing youthfully. I tend to notice trends as they're ending. And most importantly, I go to bed and wake up early.

So this series against the Diamondbacks is killing me. With games that don't start until 9:30 or 10, I barely make it through the first inning. It's embarrassing. I'm writing this during the first inning on Wednesday and I can barely keep my eyes open.

I barely noticed that Vasquez almost just pelted someone. At least I think that's what happened. I'm not entirely sure.

As an aside, I have an excuse for being so tired. I have to be at work at 7, so by 10 I'm normally pretty wiped.

What I'm trying to say is: I hate west coast series. And it doesn't end with the Diamondbacks. We're off to LA soon. I'm never going to see a full game again. Or at least it feels that way.

I don't really hate the west coast (in spite of what the title says). We went to California once. It was lovely, but I had a really hard time with the time change. So I slept most of the time. We went to Dodger stadium while we were out there. It's true what they say say: it does have a HUGE parking lot.

I guess my real issue is with time changes. Not so much the west coast. (Fun fact: China is all on one time zone.)

In other news, Mike and I are mounting a campaign to get Swisher on the All-Star team. He may not be the best, but you have to smile when you see him. He's always smiling.

I'm going to end this before I fall asleep.

Risky Business

First, lets celebrate the 2-1 series against the Mets. Teixeira's grand slam was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

But I really want to discuss this article in the New York Times a month ago, about a study conducted about siblings and risk. It describes a study by Frank J. Sulloway and Richard L. Zweigenhaft for the current issue of Personality and Social Psychology Review.

The two wanted to see if siblings acted differently with regard to risk given their birth order. They used MLB siblings as they're data group. The article reads, "Given how younger siblings have been shown to take more risks than their older counterparts — perhaps originally to fight for food, now for parental attention — Drs. Sulloway and Zweigenhaft examined whether the phenomenon might persist to the point that baseball-playing brothers would try to steal bases at significantly different rates."

Their findings supported their hypothesis. In over 90 percent of baseball siblings, the younger brother tried to steal more bases than his brother. They also controlled for overall skill.

Anecdotally, it's totally true that younger siblings take bigger risks. I'm a complete perfectionist, who spends hours antagonizing over simple decisions. Seriously, it will take me a minimum of twenty minutes to decide whether or not I want whip cream on my waffles if we go out for breakfast. Mike can attest to this. We went out for Indian last night and it was a huge deal that I ordered something I'd never gotten before. This is a risk for me.

Mike, on the other hand, dives head first in situations. I don't want to say he does things blindly, but he's much more likely take a risk than I am.

If you put both of us on first base, there's no doubt in my mind that he'd steal and I'd wait. It's just the way we are.

The researchers offer up possible explanations for this behavior in younger siblings, such as "originally fighting for food, [and] now for parental attention."

In my case, my risk-averse nature has nothing to do with fear of losing food or parental attention. And everything to do with a fear of failure. I don't want to screw up, so I take the safe track.

Mike, I'm interested to know what you think about this article.

Liz is having an affair

The first of the World Series re-match just ended and Mike and I have turned on Psych. As an aside, Psych is on of the funniest shows on TV. It's about a private investigator who pretends to be psychic. I'm not selling it well, but it's hilarious. Here's the promo for the winter season.

Anyway, I've been looking forward to this series for about a week now. It's not just the World Series re-match thing. The Phillies are my National League team. I always had a soft spot for the Phills. The Phanatic is just so loveable.

And sense starting school in Philly, they've grown on me even more. Citizens Bank is a great ball field. And say what you will about Philadelphia fans, they're fun people to watch a ball game with. Unless the Phillies are losing. Or you run out onto the field.

But more than that, they're such a motley crew. Shane Victorino is one of less than ten Hawaiian players in the Majors. Cole Hamels married a reality TV star ( I hate using the word star for people who have been on Survivor.) Jayson Werth is the grandson and nephew of major leaguers. And Ryan Howard may just be the slowest runner in the Major Leagues.

I just adore them.

But there's never any question as to who I love more.

During the World Series, one of my friends asked me who I would be rooting for.

I responded, "Blood's thicker than water."

She gave me the strangest look. But to me it made total sense. The Yankees were/are an extension of the family. My allegiances are clear.

That being said I was not overjoyed when my dad and Mike spent the evening mercilessly mocking the Phillies. They're a fun team. Made of fun people. And they deserve our respect.

Why I Love Andy Pettitte

Well, Jorgie juiced not one, but two.

Two grand slams in two days. I have nothing but respect for the man.

In my brother's first post, he said he was a "Posada guy." You'll notice he didn't refer to Posada as his "favorite." I point this out because of a conversation Mike and I had the other day.

Me: Mike, who is your favorite Yankee?

Mike: I don't have one.

Me: What?

Mike: I know who I don't like. (He grimaces). Scott Proctor (with detectable venom in his voice).

Yes, that's right. My brother insists he doesn't have a favorite player. This is a completely foreign concept to me. I'm a Pettite girl. And by that I mean Andy Pettitte is my favorite player.

Mike probably finds this a little odd mainly because Pettitte seems to go against what I stand for. If you asked my best friend to describe me she would say "Intensely loyal." Seriously, I've been known to blacklist people just for looking at my friends the wrong way.

And Pettitte left us for the Astros.

And anyone who knows me would describe me as a rule follower. My dad called me "the sheriff" when I was three.

And Pettitte admitted to steroid usage.

So why would he possibly be my favorite?

The honest answer is I have no idea. I think it has something to do with the crazy eyes he gets when he's pitching well. He pitched all three clinchers in the post-season. And the clincher in the '98 series.

But I've always just felt he was a good guy. He seems to genuinely love his kids and his team.

Let's go on a badenture through the Blogosphere

As I just said to my Yankee copanaera Liz, let's take a badenture through the world of Sports Blogging. As Ron Burgandy said, "I'm kind of a big deal". Well, not really. I just survived my Junior Year in high school. I'm still convinced that the only way I actually survived Spanish was because my teacher loves the Yankees. On November 5th, he and I had a "fiesta"in class.

I love the Yankees. I'm a man, so I try not to cry. But when we won in November, I cried. Broke down in tears while on the phone with my sister. I was 7 when we won in 2000. Not really a fan, I remember only this from the series. I never thought we would win again, but we did.

The Yankees are my first, my only and my true love. Sure, I like other sports. I'm a Knicks, Giants and Rangers fan. But there's always been something about the Yankees. Maybe it was the first major league home run I saw (John Van Der Wall, by the way) or maybe it was just the first view of the grass at the Stadium. Maybe it was the kid in the net against Chicago. Or maybe it's just hearing John and Suzyn or Michael, Kenny, Al and Flash calling the game. I love the game and I love this team.

I'm a Posada guy. He's a natural, among the best catchers ever. I like Jeter too. He's never said a mean thing about anyone, a real class act. I like Andy. Man, he can pitch. Robbie, Gardy, Swish, Tex, Mo; All great players, love 'em all.

Two players are clearly missing from that list. A-Rod and Joba. They're both completely overrated. I was at the Cleveland game a couple of weeks ago. We had a lead and Joba comes in. I look to my dad and say "10 bucks we're losing after he's done". Guess who walked out of the Stadium with 10 dollars more than he started with? A-Rod is completely annoying. He thinks he's hot stuff. But really, no. He's nothing more than a pretty boy with some decent strength and a weak groin.

I hate the Sox. Pedroia is terrible. He's a niche player who can only play in Fenway. Papelbon is a Mariano wannabe. He'd be lucky to be half the man that Mo is. Beckett requires a shave NOW. He looks like a complete scumbag. Playing for the Evil Empire doesn't help his image either. But the worst player on the Red Sux? David "Big Papi" Ortiz. He's a horrible, horrible player. He's fat, can't field, can't run and can't hit (ever since he quit the 'roids)

So, I look forward to writing sports for all of you. It's a hobby of mine. I hope all y'all enjoy this. I know I will!

Going for 28

Last fall, I was in the midst of a miserable semester. It was my sophomore year of college. I was 250 miles from home and nothing was going my way. I was exhausted, run-down and hadn't gotten a full nights sleep in weeks.

After three weeks of tossing and turning, I'd tried just about every solution in the book. I drank chamomile tea and no caffeine, I took herbal supplements, I tried running before bed, I started meditating. Nothing worked.

Finally, one night in a fit of desperation, I signed up for an mlb.com account. I gave them my credit card number and could now listen to any baseball game in the country.

I immediately turned on the game John Sterling was calling that night on WCBS and I felt a sense of calm I hadn't felt in weeks wash over me. It took me back to the summer nights of my childhood, driving home in the backseat of the car, listening to a Yankees game.

I fell asleep in twenty minutes.

I use this as a story of what baseball and the Yankees mean to me. It's not that I find baseball boring, and listening to Sterling puts me to sleep. I wouldn't be writing this if Idid. But baseball, and the Yankees, have always been a piece of my home. It's not an exxageration to say the sound of my childhood was the Yankees Soundtrack. I feel like the team is an extended part of the family.

So it's fitting that I'm writing this blog with my brother, Mike. He's much stat-focused than I am. So look for me more for my feelings about the team, growing up a Yankees fan, being a transplanted Yankees fan, team gossip (Will Jeter ever actually marry Minka Kelly? What's up with ARod and Cameron Diaz) and book/magazine/blog reviews.

We're going for 28 this year. Leave a comment if you are too.