I’m off to Montreal. What with the indefinite delay in spring training, I have a chance to do a little something. And I love spending time with Pierre. We e-mailed back and forth and I decided to go up and see him. And even though Montreal is cold, it’s a nice place to be.

This year, we’ll be around for the Montreal High Lights festival. It’s the last week of February and in normal years, pitchers and catchers report to spring training in the middle of February so we missed it last year. I’m really looking forward to it.

The only thing I don’t like about Montreal is that I don’t speak French. Or even understand it. I’d like to remedy that. If I could get as good at French as i am at Spanish (I can understand it if it’s spoken slowly and I can speak a little with a bad accent) then I wouldn’t feel so out of place. Of course Pierre speaks French. And I spend a great deal of time with him. Maybe he can teach me.

Anyway, this is going to be so exciting. There will be concerts and exhibits and various dining experiences. The one I’m most excited about is the Old Montreal Progressive Meal, where you go to different restaurants for each course of the meal. That seems like a lot of work, but you get to go to a lot of places on one night. Kinda like the idea of going somewhere for dinner and then somewhere else for dessert. Only on a macro scale. And the lights! I don’t know what to expect but it sounds exciting.

We’re also doing things Pierre is interested in. We’re going to see Les Cowboys Fringants. They are one of Pierre’s favorites and they provide the music for his MySpace.

We’re cruising. There are a whole bunch of us, too many to name. But I have to mention a couple. The Doctor is here. So is Ali Hussain. And there’s a few young guys, too. Like Sean Mack in Boston. Mack is a little on the brash side, but he’s a good kid. He’ll be a good ballplayer someday, too. But he took the opportunity to drink a little once we were out of US waters. I think all the kids did.

While vacationing in the Bahamas (that’s fun to type), I’ve discovered Texas Hold ‘em. You’re wondering how someone could play professional baseball so long and not be familiar with poker. It’s not that. What I mean is, I’ve discovered it can be fun and not just a way to hand money over to Bear. Maybe that has to do with Bear not being along on the cruise. But it can actually be relaxing to play. And I’m half-decent at it so I’m not losing all my money but overall coming out about even.

The food here is wonderful. You always have your choice between three or four things. And that’s for each course. Salad, main dish and dessert. And they’ll let you get more than one if you ask. Yesterday I had chocolate cake and a cheese tray (chocolate goes great with cheese, especially dark chocolate).

Overall, I’m having fun. I’m past the depression I went through after we lost the Patriot Cup. Ryan said he was proud of us and we exceeded his expectations. I don’t think he meant me. I fell vastly short of what I expected. But Nolan told me that sometimes you have a down year. That it’s not that you’re bad, but that your luck isn’t there. And it’s especially hard when you’re a pitcher because you don’t participate in the offense. He also pointed out that I earned incentives. So I did some things quite well. Got strikeouts, for example. Things will be different this season. I’m sure of it. And I can smile again. It’s a great feeling.

When I came to Allentown, I wanted to make a difference. Well, I did. Last year I was 29-4. This year I was 7-15. I lost eleven more games this year than last. We missed winning the conference by nine games. There you are. I made a difference. A negative difference.

There is no excuse for game three. I gave up five runs without getting anybody out. When the bullpen came to rescue me, I had two runners on and they both scored, too. That’s seven runs. The boys only scored four runs in nine innings. It doesn’t matter how many runs the bullpen let up. I lost it for us all by myself.

After game four I went home. By myself. I’m by myself a lot these days. I’m not sure I like it but I’ll get used to it. I miss Jay. He’s fun to get drunk with and I think that might’ve been a good thing to do. But i don’t like going out alone. There are a couple of my old teammates I could probably have picked up but I just couldn’t. Not then.

I feel awful. That pretty much sums it up. Sure, I write a blog and sure I’m fairly good with words. But I’m out of words. I can’t describe it. It’s like nothing else.

Maybe next year will be better.

When he was setting up his rotation for the playoffs, Ryan talked to me. He said that he was going to put me first. That he knew I could get it done and that he was counting on me.

Well, it’s no secret that I haven’t been pitching like an ace. 17 wins? Forget it. I got nearly that many losses. My 3.74 ERA is respectable but not something I take pride in. I did strike out 240 in 226 innings so there’s some brightness there. But overall it’s been a dismal season for me.

But here was my manager telling me he was counting on me. I told him I’d do my best. That’s what I always say because that’s always true. I can’t say, “I’ll win it for you,” and then not come through. My dad writes software for a living and what he always says is under promise and over deliver. So I promise what I can do and try to deliver better than that.

And I did. Four runs in seven innings is not outstanding. But it was enough and that’s what you need to win ballgames. So I was there when it counts and I got it done.

Now we’re on to the Patriot Cup. And that amazing Hartford rotation. I think I can get it done again. But I’m not going to promise it. I’d rather y’all be pleasantly surprised when it happens.

So I’m cursed. Well, maybe not. Maybe I’m half-cursed. It turns out that Doc saved my AW game ball and put in some other ball. So they may have paid for a curse but they didn’t get it. And Thursday after I beat Hartford, Doc and I went out to Max’s and had steak and he gave me my ball back. Along with some good chocolate and flowers (purple hyacinths and white zinnias). That was totally sweet of him. We talked for a long time, about the curse and about the team. He invited me back to his place for a few drinks. Then he sent me back to my hotel in a cab. Neither of us was very tipsy but it’s better to make sure.

Then, we beat Hartford again. Weiss (who is awesome, make no mistake) beat Ali Hussain, Hartford’s prodigal son. And I went to Mill on the River with Hottie. He brought me something, too. Apparently purple hyacinths mean “I’m Sorry” because that’s two nights in a row. I have made my peace with Hottie. We went to his place for a couple ‘ritas and I ended up staying later than I expected. He really is sorry. He explained how it happened. It’s just that he and Doc are macho guys and they each had to top each other in what they’d do. So it starts out small with “My aunt’s a Voodoo lady” and escalates slowly into “Let’s hire her” and then into “Lets steal one of Shannon’s balls”. And he says he’s responsible for his part but that he can’t apologize for Doc’s part. Never fear, Doc apologized. He said he’s glad I got my ball back.

So, it wasn’t my ball that the voodoo lady had, so there was no curse. Or maybe there was, but it wasn’t the problem. My ERA is under 4. That’s respectable for a starting pitcher. Dirtball says he doesn’t believe in curses, maybe I should listen to him.

Dirtball. When we came here together, he was there for me. But I wore him out. He was treating me like his pet project and it wasn’t working so he threw up his hands and walked away. He’s still the best catcher on the field but off the field he’s got more important things to deal with than my problems. I can respect that, even if I’m not happy about it.