I unabashedly adore Nick Hornby.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," comes the cry from the regulars. And they'd be right - this is nothing new - I've long regaled Hornby's works, ever since I first discovered the film version of "High Fidelity" because there was a Belle & Sebastian reference.

So yes, I've often said I enjoy Hornby's work. It's nothing particularly new. But when you love something (in this case, an author's work), it's important to restate that from time to time. Particularly when you have something new to further support your statement.

I'm reading "Fever Pitch." I'd wanted to read it for awhile now, but was finally prompted to seek the book out upon seeing a trailer for the American-ized, Red Sox-ized film version (xoxoJimmyFallonxoxo). I found the book buried in the "Sports - Soccer" section of the bookstore on Saturday and have been devouring it since, although I've forced myself to not read it in a single sitting like I often wind up doing.

I loved "High Fidelity" (how could I not?). "About a Boy" made my 2002 flight from Albany to Salt Lake City race by far more pleasantly than any inflight movie could have. "Songbook" had Bruce Springstein, Rufus Wainwright, Ani, Ben Folds Five, Badly Drawn Boy, and Van Morrison included, to my utter glee.

But it's been "Fever Pitch" that's made me realize just why I enjoy Hornby's work so much. Of course there's the fact that he demonstrates a plain-spoken, witty sort of conversational tone to his writing - which is what I enjoy best and aspire to with my own writing. But more so? He gets me - he thinks the same screwy way that I do.

I don't have the book here with me (I forced myself to leave it at home so I actually get something accomplished today), but there's a passage in which he talks about associating important moments in his life with the corresponding football games (football of course being soccer in its proper form). He remembers details about the games that few others would remember - date, score, opponent, et al. The memories take on a split-screen perspective in his mind.

I'll have to find the quote and include it here. It's really brilliant.

I have a list of calendar dates that remain firmly planted in my mind, a list that prompts chuckles and playful eyerolls from my friends. 1.7, 2.2, 4.30, 6.18, 11.12, etc. I always associate those dates with a particular musical experience. For the past two January 7ths, I've had at least some moment when I flash back to the lightheaded, faint feeling that forced me out of Iota during a soundcheck and onto the 10-show "Mraz Miss Tour" that finally ended when I saw Jason perform in Northampton (10.9, for the record). I recently wrote about my February 2 streak, one that started with the first time I saw Howie Day perform. On June 18, I think of standing in the front row at Paradise, looking up at Howie and John Mayer as they performed in front of me. There are many others.

I'm the person who will emphatically attach significance to shows without even really realizing it until my friends laugh. "Well, this is going to be great. First time seeing Guster perform in the band's homestate!" "First time seeing Howie solo since the Dual Day Day of 2002!" Yes, I admit it. I actually said both of those.

Sure, it's a little dumb of me, but it's the way my mind works. But I often keep those thoughts to myself, by which I mean myself and maybe my two closest friends who know me well enough to guess what I'm thinking. But reading "Fever Pitch," I've burst into laughter on numerous occasions. I read several passages to Beth over the course of the weekend, prefaced with, "Sound familiar?"

She laughed and nodded each time. It was clear to her, too, that Hornby has unknowingly found in me an extraordinarily captive audience.