This is how it is supposed to be.

Adrenaline. I take steps two at a time in order to get back to the phone, the notepad, the computer more quickly. The words are coming fast and furious, the phone keeps ringing, the voices on the other end are helpful.

I talk about last night's game and fall into a conversation with "the boys," mentioning players and plays and being treated to insight as well-informed as my own. Groans over Clement's knockdown, speculation about Nixon's season prospects. I'm asked my opinion on trade rumors and how it will affect the team.

Small clusters of people shooting off new ideas, new angles; we feed off each other and feel a collective sense of excitement about what's being crafted. I'm the center, rattling off facts and figures, mentioning names and backstories.

I'm told I'm doing well. "Keep it up." "Way to go." "This will be a good one." "It deserves plenty of space."

I realize that when I have this finished, I've another project ahead that promises to be just as promising.

This is why I struggle through the other days. So I can get to today.
--------
And, in other news. I accidentally deleted the masterpiece IM conversation conducted between one Michelle and myself last night, as the Red Sox attempted to rally back from the (stupid) defecit (they should never have fallen into in the first place) against Tampa Bay. I didn't think much could top some of the post-season IM commentary we provided (an example of which was archived for the ages here), but last night's conversation may have topped those.

It was ended with Boston's 10-inning victory.

V: Never doubted them.
M: Isn't it funny how every member of Red Sox Nation says that ALL THE TIME??!?
V: Love it. OK, gotta go to bed. G'night.
M: Sweet dreams. Night!

Remy, much as I look to him on a regular basis, ain't got nothin on us.