My final day in Florida dawned bright and sunny and I headed to Clearwater's Jack Russell Stadium by myself. The parents and corwin would be along later, but I wanted to be sure to pick up my credentials and get the lay of the land before the team arrived.

As it was, I got slightly lost trying to find the park, even though I've been there before. I somehow approached from the wrong side, and ended up paying four dollars to park my car just beyond the outfield wall. "Park over on that side," the attendant told me as she took my money, "and your windows will be safe." I drove on the grass over to where another attendant was standing. "Oughta be okay here," he said. "Car right over there had its back window smashed yesterday." I decided I wouldn't tell my father about where I parked his car.

If I'd been more persistent, I might have found my way over to the other side of the park, where the offices were, and where they had a media parking pass for me. But hey, live dangerously. And the parking lot money at Clearwater goes to a good cause, a local low income housing development. Instead I walked all the way around the park, picked up my tags, and went inside.

On my way to the field, I passed the press dining room and a sign that read "Whale Beach: Members of the Media Only" on a section of seats behind the dugout. The sun was hot on the field and a sign in the outfield read 81. It was going to be the hottest day yet on my trip. The Phillies were still taking BP. I don't know the Phillies well enough for their BP to be interesting to me. Instead, I went up to the press box to get a cold drink and see what was going on up there.

None of the New York writers were there yet but a bunch of the Philly media were. One guy wearing a UPN shirt was writing the line ups onto a white board with a marker. I pointed out that he spelled Pettitte wrong: "Four T's," I told him. "I only know because I keep getting it wrong myself."

"You're right, you're right," he said, inserting another T. Then he asked me how to pronounce Marcus Thames' name. "Everyone's been saying it 'Tims,'" I told him. He thanked me and I wandered down to the ground level to check out the clubhouse. The bus had just pulled in.

The visitors clubhouse and bullpen is beyond the left field wall, separated from a barbecue area by a tall chain link fence, masked with green sheeting. There was a gate in that fence and I opened the latch and went through. A Phillies booster named Bob was standing there. His name tag said he was from Pennsylvania and I struck up a conversation with him. Like many of the volunteers and boosters who work the spring training parks, he lives half the year up north, and half the year down here. He used to take an RV back and forth but now finds it less taxing to fly. "Did you see if Don Zimmer's here today?" he asked me. I told him I hadn't seen who got off the bus, which was true, and that sometimes Zim and Torre would come separately in a car. He told me an old player from Zim's era was around and wanted to see him, so to keep and eye out. Then he asked me if Alfonso Soriano was there.

What was funny about this, of course, is that I had started talking to this sweet old man in case I needed his help later getting through the gate. And here he was asking ME for help with the Yankees. "Why are you interested in Soriano?"

Turns out his wife's maiden name is Soriano, but she's Italian! "I want to get his autograph," Bob said. "Her brother in law will crap when he sees it!" He had a ball all ready for Sori's signature.

If only I had talked to him for a few more minutes, I could have gotten a photograph with him and his wife's "long-lost relative." But I got distracted and when I looked back at Bob next, he had snared Adrian Hernandez and told him the story of his wife's name. El Duquecito then corralled Soriano on his way to the field and introduced him to Bob. I wasn't quick enough to get out my camera in time to get a shot for Bob, though. "Oh I wish you had," he said. "Then my brother in law would really crap!" I told him I'd try to catch him later, when Soriano came out of the game.

A steady stream of Yankees was now making the walk from the clubhouse across the bullpen grass to the padded gate in the fence that lead to left field. I walked with them and some of the writers, who were also emerging from the clubhouse, through the gate and down the left field line to the dugout.

"Hey, would you sign my ball?" a guy in the stands yelled jokingly to me.

"Sure, which one?" I yelled back. It took him a minute to get the joke. Next time I'll have to yell: what, you've got only one?

I also saw David, the man with all the baseball cards, along the wall. "Hey, don't forget us!" he called.

In the dugout Lee Mazilli sat with a fungo bat while a bunch of other coaches got BP started. The writers circled around him instinctively. "Joe's coming later," he told us, "but what do you guys want to know?"

He then went on to tell an anecdote about Bernie Williams. "Last time I managed a spring training game here. Bernie was running for a ball and felt something in his leg." Just a twinge or something, and he was running from right to left, and what did he do? "He just kept right on running, straight to the clubhouse. I looked up and I'm like, hey, where's my centerfielder? But that's Bernie for you."

Even in the shade of the dugout it felt hot, the sun intense. I chatted with some of the other writers and was highly amused by their stories about their Oscar Night pool. I got talking with one of them about the New England Women's Baseball League and my intent to try out this year. Then Jason Zillo, the Yankees' assistant director of media relations, told us that Joe was on his way.

Somewhat better prepared for the Torre Talk than I had been in Baseball City, I filled five pages in my pretty large notebook. I won't transcribe everything Joe said here, but it was quite fascinating to hear much of it coming from his mouth, and also to realize how the quotes he gave that morning were used in stories I read in the newspaper the following day, and even days afterward.

First he informed us that Andy Pettitte would be on a pitch count of 50-60 pitches, but that he would be able to throw all his pitches. He would get one more spring start of 75 or so pitches, and then be ready for the season (barring any setbacks in the elbow). "He's going to have to PITCH today. We want to see him come out of this start feeling good."

Would you trade where you are this spring for where you were this time last spring? "They're no easy decisions," Torre said of the cuts still to be made: fifth outfielder, backup catcher, utility infielder, last two spots in the bullpen. "It's similar, leaving Mendoza here [on the DL] for example. We'll leave here with a better pitching staff than last year at this time. The only thing different is catching is tougher to choose among the four guys.They've all been big league players. In the infield, Sojo, Coomer, big leaguers. The outfield is a little bit different. We've got a little bit of a scarcity so we're looking at kids later in spring training than usual."

Much of that sounded word for word like some of what he had said a few days before, in Baseball City. I checked my notes from that game--in fact, he was asked a similar question and gave a similar answer. But Torre never seemed annoyed that writers would ask him the same thing again and again, not even the still-persistent questions about Game Seven, like the following:

Is there any hangover from the loss last year?

Joe: "Not for me. It's nothing like it was in 1997. You were chomping at the bit to get that taste out of your mouth. But last year, to go to the ninth inning of the final game of the World Series? My job is to get Rivera in the game. If we had never got to that point, I probably would have been torturing myself all winter. it was a great series, but there's no hangover. We feel very proud about getting there to begin with. Oakland, Seattle, all those things made our season. If we didn't have "Yankees" on our uniforms it would have bee a feather in our cap. But we know expectations here are high."

"We had enough offense to win. We've had the mindset that a one run lead being enough. I get nervous once we reach that point (Mo in the game with a one run lead) because then I become a spectator. There are no more decisions to make."

"You have to give them (the Diamondbacks) a lot of credit. They were a veteran club and they had a plan. They did a lot of little things."

How's Giambi? "He's fine, he's ready to start the season. We talked a little bit about New York. He knows how to get in shape. You put them (veterans) on their own program. Ventura, too, they've had experience doing that and they've been successful."

But, Giambi and the pressure of NY? "Tino was over there (first base) for six successful years. But Jason's not going to have to take a back seat. Players get anxious this time of year. Reggie's talked to him, Mel too. It isn't as much (pressure) as they expect, but it is different. What I let Jason know as recent as this morning was he'll handle it. Knowing his personality from All-Star games, playing against him, and this spring, he won't have any problem. Kenny Rogers? It was tough for him."

Is there a difference in the mindset of the Yankees? "I don't thin there's any difference. Understanding that the WS ring is at the end of this thing and we have many players that know what it entails. Ventura knows, Wells knows."

"It's not fear of the unknown, it's just maybe players realize that we'll have fun when it's allowed and do our business as expected. There's pressure involved in this game no matter where you are playing: Minnesota, Philadelphia. It's part of my job to relieve that pressure."

Are you sad about the guys who are gone? "I'm not sad--I have great memories. Every year you lose guys: Wetteland, Cone, Chili, Girardi. I just say to them 'Let's enjoy the time we're together.' I learned that the last few years. We really haven't had a lot of distractions (in the form of free agent angst and losing guys to free agency). Bernie was one of those guys but we really haven't had it affect what we do."

"Paul O'Neill takes a lot of passion [with him]. Tino did a great job for six years. Brosius was here four years and in four World Series. Knobby was there, too. But Paul O'Neill was a leader, even though he shunned the attention."

"Time goes on. The Dodgers had to do without Koufax. I don't think we'll be lacking for character in our clubhouse."

Jeter? "He's doing real well, moving real well. You just trust him so much to come through in big situations and tell you how he's feeling. Last year he was trying to catch up [the whole year] since we left him behind [when the season started]."

Bernie? "Bernie has never been a fast starter. But everybody wants to be a fast starter. Maybe this year."

Karsay? (who got hit in the ninth the day before, and barely held onto lead giving up three runs...) "Karsay's location hasn't been good. It's been erratic. His stuff looks like it's quality stuff. That's all I concern myself with now."

Then, as if by some unspoken consensus, the writers all looked up from their notepads and said "Thanks, Joe."

"Thank you gentlemen," Joe replied, "and ladies."

Hey, was that directed at me?

It didn't really sink in to me that it was, until a few minutes later. I am quite aware, as were all the other writers, and Joe, and the rest of the Yankees staff, that a woman baseball writer is still something rare. Of the people in and around Major League Baseball who interact with players and managers, very few of them are female. There are many women who work in front offices, in ticket departments, in merchandising, and so on. But of those who actually work with players or who represent the game to the public (like PA announcers and play-by-play announcers) the population is overwhelmingly male Of media relations officials in the American league, 29 are male, two are female. I can think of three women in the New York sports media who cover the Yankees: Suzyn Waldman (WFAN, YES play by play), Johnette Howard (L.I. Newsday), and Tara Sullivan (Bergen Record). I can't think of any who cover the Red Sox.

So, yes, I was aware that try as I might, I would not be able to fade into the background completely in that crowd. Women sports writers are nothing new, and women covering sports with the same rights as male sports writers is also nothing new. No one batted an eye about me being there, but I knew I would not be as invisible as a male writer might have been. It helps that I've been hanging around with men all my life--I've always gotten along better with men than with women, whether they were fellow athletes running cross country track (one of the only reasons I ran track, in fact, is that it wasn't a "women's" sport), or my fellow ski instructors when I worked at a ski mountain. Compared to a lot of women, I fit in pretty good in a bunch of guys.

After the Torre Talk, we went to eat lunch. The Phillies hospitality folks had cooked up macaroni and cheese, barbecue, and beef stew but I thought it way too hot to eat such filling and hot food, so I had a salad and made myself a tunafish sandwich. And drank another bottle of water. It was fun to sit and eat with the writers, and joke about the Oscars and Shaquille O'Neal's temper and other germaine topics. As I told corwin, I suppose it shouldn't be a shock that I get along with other writers.

After lunch, the pack moved to the press box and some writers asked if I was going to sit next to them. I said actually I was going to go and sit at field level to see the pitches better. "Be sure you come up later," one of the writers told me, "in case anything's going on." I assured him I'd be back to get water and check in a few times.

As it was, I was in my seat until the fourth inning or so, when Jeter and Soriano came out of the game and I remembered my friend Bob. My plan was, run over to the clubhouse and see if I could catch a photo of Bob and Sori, and then go up to the press box to find out if there was any news on Robin Ventura, who had collided at first base while trying to beat out a double play and crumpled to the ground. He had walked off the field under his own power, but I'm sure I wasn't the only person there wondering if there was enough of an injury to keep him from starting the season with the team.

By the time I made it to Bob's gate, Jeter and Soriano were done doing their running and were in the clubhouse, so we'd have to wait until Sori came out--if he came out. I got chatting with Bob and the two cops guarding the area by the buses. Then I saw the pack of writers coming through the gate and heading for the clubhouse. So I got in line with them, and into the Yankees clubhouse we went.

The first thing I noticed about the place was the smell of liniment, Ben Gay, athletic rub, whatever you want to call it. Some of the guys had already told me that this was a pretty small clubhouse, each locker just a chickenwire box maybe three feet wide, two feet deep and five feet tall. Each locker held an assortment of street clothes, shoes, and miscellaneous athletic stuff.

Apparently we were here to get the word directly from Robin Ventura about how his ankle felt. Robin was still in the trainer's room, on the other side of a cinderblock divider, so the writers just stood around in a clump. "Hurry up and wait," one of them said to me. I replied; "Isn't that just like baseball?"

Eventually Robin emerged from the trainer's room, took one look at us all standing there, notebooks at the ready, and proclaimed he needed a shower before he could talk to us. The clump of writers parted to let him through. he went behind another cinderblock partition, we heard the water begin to run, and then he tossed his shorts and t-shirt out of the stall and into a pile of laundry.

I wondered if anyone was going to make a big deal out of the fact that there was a woman present, but no one did. Good, since I wasn't about to make a big deal out of it myself. Some of the other writers helped themselves to the stash of bubblegum on a shelf in the locker room--I took a piece as well, (Bazooka, if you are curious.) After a bit, Robin emerged swathed in white towels and talked about his sprained ankle for about five minutes. He called it a "mild sprain," and thought he'd only miss "a few days. We'll see what happens tomorrow." When asked how he did it exactly he admitted he wasn't sure. "I just caught it. i tried to get over his leg and just turned it. When I first hit the ground i was just checking all my parts. We'll see how tomorrow is and we'll go from there." One of the writers asked him if he thought about the bad ankle injury he had a few years back that sidelined him for quite a while. "It went through my mind. It makes me feel better that I can walk around on it." Turns out it was the other ankle.

And that was it for Robin Ventura, who was then taken away for precautionary X-rays.

I thought at that point the pack would head back for the press box, but no one seemed inclined to go anywhere. Did I mention the clubhouse, cramped and spartan though it may be in Clearwater, was air conditioned? Who cares if the air smells like menthol?

Joe Torre came in to use the men's room. Moms everywhere will be happy to note that Mr. Torre washes his hands afterward--or at least he does when twenty writers are within earshot.

At one point I went back out to see how things were going in the game. There was a window cut out of the left field wall, about eighteen inches on a side and barred, that gave line of sight to the batter's box. The cops, Bob, and a few writers were taking turns watching through the window and relaying to the others there what was going on in the game. Pitching Coach Mel Stottlemyre came out of the clubhouse then, looked up at the scoreboard and asked "How'd we get that run?"

While we'd been in the clubhouse, Pettitte had pitched well, going four innings and allowing only one run, striking out three and walking one. He himself had worked a walk when he came to bat--national league park, national league rules. Nick Johnson had hit a home run in the third. The Yankees got another run in the fifth when Jeter singled, stole second, then went for third on the bad throw from the catcher. He scored on a ground out. We got another one in the seventh when Gerald Williams, pinch hitting in the pitcher's slot, singled, then moved to second on an E4 off Jeter's bat, and scored on an RBI single by Shane Spencer.

Then came a to-do that we all had to hear about second hand. Ron Coomer had taken over for Ventura, and with Spencer at first, had grounded to third. Spencer slid in at second trying to break up the double play. The DP was completed, but Phillies 2B Tomas Perez got banged up in the collision and had to be taken from the field on a stretcher. See what kind of excitement you can miss standing around the locker room? On the other hand, in the locker room we got to see the long red line on Spencer's leg where he was spiked, as well as the scar that still stands out from his skin where his knee surgery was last year.

Spencer did not address the writers as a group, but did chat with a few of us here and there. "It was a clean slide," was all he could really tell us. "His foot got caught or something." Already, though, people were expecting the Larry Bowa Phillies to retaliate. Spencer told David Wells he expected to get drilled when they played Philly again later in the week. Wells, who was pitching that day, saw Spencer hit on the elbow in the first inning. Wells made sure the first pitch he threw that day hit the first Philly he saw in the leg. It would appear the matter ended there. (Perez will be out 2-3 weeks with the strained knee.)

All this time, Andy Pettitte was in the trainer's room getting his elbow packed in ice. After his day on the mound was done, Pettitte grabbed a trainer and put himself through a very intense abs workout, with several flavors of sit ups, and also did some running. From the trainer's room you could hear the sound of ice clinking like it does when you fill a hotel ice bucket, and then the ripping sound of athletic tape being strapped around something. Pettitte emerged, shirtless but still in his uniform pants, with an ice pack the size of a large pumpkin around his elbow.

As he made his way to his locker, the writers gathered around. Andy seemed happy to talk. he was happy with his start and how he threw, and so was happy to go on about his pitches and his arm for pretty much as long as we wanted. "I felt good, it was a good day. I had a few bad pitches. All in all it was a great day. I threw everything. i wasn't real happy with my cutter, the command of it. the cutter's usually there. It was a little too big, almost like a slider today." Was that a changeup we saw you throwing? "I always wanted to have one. I always work on it in the spring. To be able to throw that and see what it does to major league hitters... I threw some good ones later in the game. I threw some good changeups today."

"I'm still under control, I'm not letting everything go quite like in a regular season game. I want to make everyone confident that I'm okay, and for my own peace of mind. I think it's good to go. I get a little frisky sometimes [and overthrow] -- this is probably when I'm at my best, when I'm not overthrowing. I can put some balls by some guys now, but that's how I hurt myself. I've aggravated it before so easily."

"My legs were great, my shoulder was great, my elbow was great. I fatigued it (shoulder) out last time on 55 pitches. This time, no fatigue."

"I'd still love to get back in the slot I was in. In my world, I can see it happening. In the Yankees' world [though]... I just let Mel and Joe make the decisions."

As I was writing all this down, I kept looking up at Pettitte's face, and listening to his voice, and thinking, gee, he really looks and sounds exactly like he does on television. One thing you just can't tell about Andy Pettitte on tv, though. He's got gray hair. In among that short sandy stuff on his head are quite a few silver ones. Or maybe the Diamondbacks plus a winter of fretting about tipping his pitches did that to him.

Outside the clubhouse, Mariano Rivera began to warm up in the bullpen. We were standing a few feet away, and some people flinched when the first fastball popped in Alberto Castillo's glove like a gunshot. Pop, pop, pop. The ball moved so fast it was hard to track at that distance. I was standing next to the writer I had told about NEWBL and said "I'm trying to imagine standing in the batter's box for this." I couldn't actually imagine getting any closer at all.

John Vanderwal hit a home run around this time, making it 4-2 Yankees after the top 8. Was Mariano going to go in and pitch two innings? He jogged out and the writers clustered around the tiny window in the wall. Someone in a yankee uniform was coming from the direction of the dugout.

It was Steve Karsay, who had pitched the ninth yesterday and barely escaped with his skin and a Yankee win. The writers all stared at him as he went to the bullpen. Karsay cracked a smile. "Man, I quit," he said joking about being handed the ninth inning duty again today.

Anthony McCarron of the Daily News then rattled off the lead to a story: "Signed in the offseason to be the Yankees' main right handed set up man, Steve Karsay expected his job would be to get the ball to Mariano Rivera in the ninth. Little did Karsay ever dream that one day the great Rivera would be setting up for HIM." Laughs all around.

Rivera pitched a perfect eighth. Then Karsay came on. Even through the tiny window we could see he was somewhat victimized by a second baseman's error that allowed the leadoff man to reach, even if we couldn't see who was playing second at the time. (F. P. Santangelo, it turned out.) Karsay reversed his luck somewhat by getting a ball back to the mound and turning a very smooth 1-6-3 double play. But the next guy up doubled, and the one after that singled him home, cutting the Yankee lead to one. Karsay induced the final batter to fly to center and his job, and the game, were done.

Now the writers went onto the field in search of Joe. We met him about halfway between the dugout and the gate, and he stopped right where he was, let the pack circle him, and began to answer questions. On Karsay "He did seem to be strong." On who would take Ventura's roster slot if needed? "Coomer would be better for short term than Henson." Spencer? "He's fine." Nick Johnson's home run? "he did this one day in Sarasota, too. He's real, he's the real deal. The plus is he can hit the ball that way (opposite field). After the struggles he had last year, he has proven to us he's ready to play. the quality of his at bats is good." Mariano? "Mo will pitch tomorrow night, too." and Pettitte? "Pettitte was fine. He got a little tired. He had his trouble with pitch selection. He probably could have done without those two at bats."

And that was that. I met up with my family, we stopped at Pete and Shorty's for some dinner before going to the airport, and a few hours later I was back in Boston, in the freezing cold and drizzle. Let me tell you, I would have much rather been staring at Andy Pettitte's dimple than standing in the chill in the cab line. But with Opening Day so close, I didn't feel as sad to leave Florida as I have been in some years past. So I came north a bit early. In a few days I'll rendezvous with the Yankees again, for the home opener at the Stadium. My mom will be there, too, and the next day is Heather's bridal shower. And the week after that, the Yankees will follow me to Boston. See you soon, guys. See you soon.