When did it get so cold?  Seems like just yesterday, I was drinking Gatorade on the sidelines of Bills camp—“staying hydrated” to use coach-speak, “monitoring my fluid intake.”  My biggest worry was that I forgot to use sunblock on my feet, exposed through the straps of my flip flops. 

Now camp has broken and so has the weather.  I’m wearing socks again, and the sun, which only just the other day seemed like it never set, must have been one of the Bills’ cuts. 

Instead of wondering if it will be too hot to open the windows at the Frontier Field press box, I’ll be covering Axl Rose after parking at the Ralph on a gray Sunday in the not too distant future. “I’ll just end up walking in the cold November rain.” 

So, in honor of all the kids that have just received their first homework assignment of the new school year, here’s “What I did on my summer vacation.” 

I watched the Red Sox watch the Yankees in a crowded Fenway clubhouse.  The players crowded around the ESPN broadcast as a ball flew over the left centerfield wall at Yankee Stadium.  Rookie Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon pointed at the screen, saying “You know where we sit when we’re there?”  

“You mean the bullpen?”  asked a surprised teammate.

“Yeah,” replied Papelbon, “the bullpen.”

I nearly ended the Yankees season.  Sitting in the visitors’ dugout at Toronto’s Rogers Centre during BP, I saw closer extraordinaire Mariano Rivera came out of the clubhouse.  He was clearly looking for a spot to sit down, and I slid down to make room—just as he decided to step past me.  His feet got tangled up in my moving legs and down he went.  Seeing visions of myself standing in front of Steinbrenner’s desk, trying to find words to explain why Kyle Farnsworth would be closing for the rest of the year, I lunged and made a save of my own.  Careful to avoid the rotator cuff or any important elbow ligaments, I grabbed Rivera by the arm, feeling the coiled steel that has sawed off AL batters for the better part of a decade.  Rivera turned to me and gave me the quote of the summer.  “Are you all right?” he asked the clown who nearly ended his career.

With some help from a friendly sportswriter, I built a computer network out of two laptops, several feet of coaxial cable and a pair of press box telephones in order to file a game story in Syracuse when the wireless died five minutes before deadline.

I saw all 144 golfers in less than four hours at the LPGA’s Wegmans International.

I asked LPGA pioneer Betsy Rawls about the first year of the tour’s existence.

I talked with Red Sox legend Johnny Pesky about Ted Williams’ eyesight while sitting in the Fenway box seats during BP; with boxing Hall of Famer Burt Sugar about Interleague Play in the basement of Pittsburgh’s PNC Park while waiting for them to let us on the field for All Star Batting Practice; with former Orioles outfielder Ken Singleton in the Red Wings owner’s box while he watched his son strike out in the game below. 

I got an e-mail from the Toronto Raptors at 11:45 PM, telling me that a conference call with the GM started in 20 minutes. 

I went out early on a Sunday morning to buy basketball shoes for $15.  Even though I rarely play and almost never play well, Stephon Marbury’s Starbury’s were a must-have just on principle.  It’s only the second time I’ve bought signature basketball shoes—the first time, I paid $40 for a black and red monstrosity back in 1985. 

I got heckled by Bills fans for wearing sunglasses in the rain.  They then asked me to steal them a towel that had fallen off of a stack the equipment manager was carrying.  I got yelled at by Peerless Price and insulted by James Toney, but who hasn’t?

I had breakfast with Cal Ripken and Lou Piniella (and thirty other reporters), lunch at the table next to Blue Jays GM JP Ricciardi and ice cream with Takeo Spikes (and thirty other reporters). 

I stood nose-to-nose with a former heavyweight champion at center ring. 

I heard Joe Torre talk about Tiger Woods, Tommy Lasorda complain about the “quality start” statistic, and Boston reliever Manny Delcarmen talk about the status of the tomato plants they’re growing in the home bullpen (note to Jonathan Papelbon:  That’s where you sit).  Jose Lima made me laugh.  I stood at a distance fighting back tears as Curt Schilling met with an ALS patient when he thought no one was watching.

I also skipped boxing for my sister’s college graduation, cheered like mad when my daughter fouled off the coach’s pitch in a tee ball game and took my wife to meet Hillary Clinton (while hiding a baseball for her to sign).  I taped the local news so my daughters could “find Daddy” in the crowd or reporters surrounding Coach Jauron at Bills camp. 

I tried to remember not to tell my wife I was “leaving for work” and to always remember that fans win contests and bid high in charity auctions to get to do what I do.  I tried to always appreciate what I was seeing instead of worrying about what I would write. 

So, in a nutshell, I worked all summer.  And it was the best summer vacation ever.