The woman appeared to be early middle-age and looked vaguely familiar. She approached me on Whale Beach, where I was seated in the media sunning section, pre-bee invasion, taking in the stunning performance of No. 5 starter Chan Ho Park. Let's drop the pretense, OK? President Obama preaches "Change." Jamie Moyer teaches "Changeup" and he has taught Chan Ho a dandy. "It comes out looking just like his fastball," said pitching connoisseur Scott Palmer, Dr. Feelgood. "Same arm slot, speed and rotation." Seconds later, Albert Pujols, the best pure hitter in baseball, struck out on one, the first of the veteran Korean righthander's six punchouts in 4 2/3 scoreless innings of pristine, two-hit work. J.A. Happ is a lefthander. You don't want three lefty starters in a league heavy with righthanded hitters.
But back to the woman. She smiled at me from beneath a crown of teased and attractively frosted hair. "Remember me, Bill?" she said. I gave her the frozen blank stare reserved for blackout moments.
"You're?" I offered. "[Inaudible] Amaro," she replied. A gust of wind had carried the name "Judy" toward centerfield. I never heard her first name. "Oh," I replied brightly, "Ruben Jr.'s wife . . . Great to see you again."
Well, I was partly right, if many decades late. Judy Amaro was the wife of Phillies shortstop Ruben Amaro when we first met in the late 1960s. She is no longer Ruben Sr.'s wife. But Judy is still Ruben Jr.'s mother. The last time I saw her was at the All-Star Game party in Cleveland, when Ruben was with the Indians. Judy was a buxom brunette then, not the foxy woman I had misidentified by about 25 years.
But that wasn't all . . .
