The Naked Baseball Player in My Kitchen

Wilton Manors, August 2003

I hate sports!  Especially playing them:  I could never understand the allure of waiting for a hard round projectile to come zooming out of the sky and hit you in the head.

But also watching them: why watch a bunch of guys who don't even have their shirts off chase a little projectile around?

I had seen only one half of a baseball game in my life, until I was living in Florida, and Yuri started dating one of the Florida Marlins.


They were pro-gay.  They bought ads in gay magazines, and the Fort Lauderdale Gay Men's Chorus sang before the game on AIDS Awareness Day.


But that didn't stop Jim the Baseball Player (not his real name) from being closeted.

Yuri met him online sometime in May 2003.  He always went down to Miami for their dates, so even after three months, I had never met Jim.

But I saw pictures.  Extraordinarily cute, and, according to Yuri, surprisingly gifted beneath the belt.

"You've got to bring Jim up to Wilton Manors," I told Yuri.  It was customary to introduce the boyfriend to the roommates and invite them to 'share.'

 "He doesn't want to come," Yuri said.  "It's a gay neighborhood, and he's afraid that someone will see him and find out that he is gay."

Typical closet case -- worried that armies of heterosexuals are scrutinizing your every move for tell-tale signs of gayness.

I had already given up hope when, one night early in August 2003, I woke up late and had to go to the bathroom.  I had to walk through the kitchen to get there.


There was a naked man peering into the open refrigerator.

I was so awestruck by his physique that it took me a moment to look up at his face: it was Yuri's boyfriend, Jim the Baseball Player!

"Mind if I make myself a sandwich?" he asked.

"Um...um...go ahead.  You must be Jim.  My name's Boomer."

"Oh, sure, Nice to meet you.  Yuri talks about you all the time."

"You, too.  I didn't think he'd ever manage to drag you up to Wilton Manors."

"It's a gay neighborhood -- you can't be too careful.  But we drove up to Boca Raton, and it was so late...I'll be out early tomorrow, before anyone sees me."

He wasn't looking at my face, either.  I looked down...my bathrobe was hanging open.

"So..um...go ahead and make a sandwich.  I have to ask Yuri about something..."

"He's asleep..." I heard as I rushed through the living room and down the hallway to Yuri's room.  It was dark.  I heard Yuri breathing softly.

I leapt onto the bed and shook him.  "Yuri, are you awake?"

"Mmmm...kochu spat."  (I want to sleep.)

"Yuri, you've got to invite me to share your boyfriend!"

His eyes fluttered open.  "Oh, hi, Boomer.  What's going on?"

"Jim is spending the night!  Invite me to share!" I repeated.

"Oh, yeah.  I wanted to invite you, but you were asleep when we came home."

"Well, what about now?"

"Now?"  He glanced over at his clock radio.  "Boomer, it's 3:00 in the morning.  I'm not even into it now.  The next time he comes to Wilton Manors, for sure.  Now let me sleep, ok?"

"Ok, ok, sorry."  I stumbled out into the hallway, used the bathroom, and then returned to the kitchen.  Jim the Naked Baseball Player was sitting at the table, eating his sandwich and drinking a can of soda.

"G'night," I murmured, trying not to stare at his magnificent physique and obvious gifts beneath the belt.

Jim was gone by the time I woke up.

But apparently I made an impression.  A few days later, Yuri brought home tickets to the August 12th game.  "Jim said be sure to bring you, and after the game we will go back to his apartment."  He grinned.  "To spend the night."

By the way, the Marlins beat the Los Angeles Dodgers 5-4.

I'm told -- I fell asleep.

See also: Yuri and the Bodybuilder; Yuri Steals My Boyfriend, Sort Of; and Third Wheel to a Muscle God