There is something going on between Chicago and me. It seems, whatever it is, has been going on for a while, too.

I guess it is no secret that my SO, Diane lives there, and, between us we trek back and forth doing the Jet Blue Long Oakland Long Beach Ohare run every few weeks. That is, unless one of us has business in some interesting third party venue, like Manhattan or Sedona, and, then we both travel and meet at the designated spot.

I have probably spent a month there over the past year, while in my previous 54 I was there twice for a total of four days.

But, there seem to be all these other connections. For example, I have written for STATS for years, and then I became friends with Dean Peterson, from that company. And, STATS is based in Northbrook, a suburb of Chicago.

That same Dean Peterson invited Cathy into his RRR League, years ago, and though she dropped out, Dean, and Al Koman, from that league formed our Midwest Strat Leagues, and three quarters of the guys in the league are from the Chicago vicinity.

So, now when I ride around the towns around Algonquin, where Diane lives, names like Palatine, or Naperville, or Lake Villa all have a frame of reference. I saw those town names heading a bunch of the teams in our league, but they meant nothing till I suddenly found myself driving through Naperville, and suddenly the Naperville Hounds made as much sense as my El Cerrito Mountaineers. Although, I am not sure all my league mates think in terms of El Cerrito is to San Francisco what Wicker Park is to Chicago.

But, that example is just a cursory connection. Somehow, when I wind up sitting next to the same guy from Long Beach, my now friend Lee Leonard, who randomly was seated beside me on Jet Blue flights from Long Beach on June 23, then again on July 25, I have to think something is going on.

Or that the week in June I was there just happened to be the week the White Sox and the Cubs played their interleague games, so that people were around wanting to watch baseball during the whole week. In fact I caught myself checking WGN to see what time the games would start, making the whole thing feel kind of homey.

When I was scoring the White Sox and Giants earlier in the season, I know Di told her mother and Delores watched. I am not sure if she thought she would see me back in the third row of the press box, had the cameramen chosen to focus on me for some reason. (On the other hand, it has happened.)

So, I figured her mom and nephew Christian, who is apparently an inveterate Sox fan, were likely watching the Athletics Pale Hose game of last night, where I was scoring from the even more remote box at McAfee.

I figured they were pretty comfy during the game, for the most part, whether I was on the tube or not because through seven innings, Chicago had their way with the Athletics.

And then Brian Anderson tried to make himself a hero by scoring from first on an errant pick off throw from Jerry Blevins. Blevins actually did pick Anderson off, but his throw went wild and ricocheted into right field. Anderson should have stopped at third, but he got greedy and was way out at the plate on a good throw from Daric Barton.

Had Anderson held at third, he would have been there with one out, ahead 4-2. But, not to be as any potential rally was squelched by the baserunning blunder.

Chicago put Ocatvio Dotel out for the eighth, and the former Athletic proved he has not changed a lick, as he threw nice straight 95-MPH fastballs, one of which Mark Ellis deposited over the wall, and another that Jack Cust kissed goodbye for his second tater of the night.

Some more silliness ensued, but ultimately it was DJ Carrasco giving up a pinch hit walk off to Kurt Suzuki that decided it in the bottom of the ninth in the Athletics favor, 6-4.

I am sure Christian was crushed. Me, I was just kind of amazed, though not surprised. Because there is something going on between Chicago and me.