They found my Achilles' heel!

I made a dumb mistake at work. I was supposed to pass all the client's input on to the art director (who had to leave at noon to take one of his kids to the doctor). I didn't see that the document was multiple pages and only gave him one page. My lame-ass screw up wasn't discovered until he'd left. With this laptop, so he had all the files. We couldn't pass the job along to another art director.

We had to call him on his cell, interrupt his afternoon off, and make him crank out the revisions.

My mistake. My sloppiness. My fault.

Guess how the art director responded to my apology? He said, literally, "No problem-o."

Guess how the account supe responded to my apology? He said, "It was simple human error. Forget about it."

We almost missed our due date because of me. My art director and account supervisor were stressed out and inconvenienced because of me. And no one has the decency to be angry at me.

See, by being nice about this, they have deprived me of my righteous indignation. Now I am left with nothing but my horrible guilt.

And I do feel awful about this.

I still love Greg Maddux. How could I not?

You can have George Clooney. I'll take Greg Maddux. There's something unutterably sexy about a man who is described by the Dallas Morning News as "a middle-aged guy in boxers and an assortment of ice packs, eating a sandwich and watching TV. Bird legs protruding from a barrel gut, heavy bags under bloodshot eyes, he looks as if he just rolled out after a long night of Texas Hold 'em … Greg Maddux won't appear in any underwear ads anytime soon," and yet is still able to shut down the opposing team with 5 strikeouts.

He still plays because he loves it. He still plays because he can still earn and hold a spot as an mlb starter, even though at (almost) 41 he's competing with men almost literally half his age. He's still that good.

I had the privilege of watching Michael Jordan play. He was beautiful, graceful, self-possessed and gifted. Whether in his #23 jersey or a Hanes commercial, you know you were looking at "the best there ever was, the best there ever will be."

With 4 Cy Youngs, 333 wins and more than 3000 strikeouts, my beloved Greg Maddux is a cinch for the Hall of Fame. But when you look at him, he doesn't look special. I don't believe he was blessed with exceptional physical gifts, as MJ undoubtedly was. But he has guts and tenacity and concentration and smarts and a love of the game. He's one of the best there ever was, the best there ever will be because he wants to be. And that is just so sexy.

P.S. If you know George Clooney, tell him I really didn't mean the first sentence. I do indeed want him, too. I was just trying to make a point.