When I meet new people and tell them what I do for a living, most times I am asked this question within the first few minutes: "Have you always been into sports?" It's usually women who ask the question, and most often it is women who are not big sports fans themselves. I think they find it unusual that a girl (me) who seems so much like them has a passion for something totally off their radar. When I reply that yes, I have always been into sports, both as an athlete and as a fan, I'm usually hit with this follow-up: So, your dad was a big sports fan?

That's when I tell them about my mom. Joy is who taught me to hook slide, the importance of throwing 100 pitches every day (even though I was a catcher and a shortstop) and to love the PIttsburgh Steelers (except for when they hold on to the wrong player for too long!--a la Kordell Stewart--or drop a good one too soon!--a la Antwaan Randle el--or stick to the run even when it's not working!--a la most of the post-Super Bowl season). My dad played high school football, and from what I've heard, was darn good. He taught me the fundamentals of football (and just about every sport under the sun). But it was my mom who inadvertently taught me to love the game of football, and to have a passion for sports. Because of her, I never knew that wasn't a "girlie" thing to do.

This past week, my mom flew out to Los Angeles to help me finish up a cross-country move (10 weeks after starting it) and a few of my west coast friends finally had the opportunity to, as they put it, "See where she gets it from." Besides moving furniture, hanging shelving, unpacking boxes, shopping for a new car, a new refrigerator, new rugs ... my mom and I watched a lot of (really fun) football. And there is no more animated football fan than my mother (There was also no more animated--or better/tougher/bullish--Little League softball coach in Southwest Florida). Sometimes I wish NFL and college coaches (or more specifically, whomever is coaching the Steelers or the Gators) could hear the criticism she's throwing their way, because most of the time, she is spot on. Sometimes I believe the analysts can hear her, because they often echo her sentiments, word for word.

Monday night, we walked to Barney's Beanery on the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica to watch the Steelers-Jags game. We settled into a great booth, ordered a couple of beers and a plate of nachos and I entertained myself watching people, mainly young guys, watch my mom watch football. Woman knows her stuff. Thankfully, the Steelers pulled off another close one. It was a good night. And now that I'm on the west coast, it was only 9 p.m.

Last night, I made my first trip to Dodger stadium to watch game 3 of the NLCS. I immediately fell in love with the 46-year-old ballpark (now the third-oldest in MLB). It is intimate, friendly ... and has palm trees. (My favorite form of foliage.)

The fans were another story. I know playoff baseball can get ugly, but I quickly tired of witnessing the mistreatment of the few dedicated Phillies fans who showed up sporting their red and white. Two drunk men in Dodgers gear picked out Jamie Moyer's sons and harassed them all the way back to their seats. A Phils fan in the right field seats had his hat stolen and thrown into left field ... twice. The ump had to stop play to walk over, pick it up and return it to the stands. (The LA fans thought Manny might want it as a souvenir.)

I know this behavior is not isolated to Los Angeles, or to baseball, but I wish folks would let a game be a game. Enjoy the rivalry and the baseball. Leave the rest of the BS at home. The times when I sit in the stands at games, I've had the most fun when I'm trading friendly jabs with folks from the visiting team. Sports rivalries should be fun. But I guess, until the athletes begin to set a better example (see: bench-and-bullpen clearing melee from the same game), the crowds will simply continue to follow their unsportsmanlike lead.

Tomorrow, I'm flying to Maui on a reporting trip, so I should have some great updates over the next few days. Stay tuned ...

They say when you spend too much time in Hawaii, you start to suffer from the effects of "Hawaiian time". Meaning, nothing seems too pressing or important when there are more important things, like surfing or barbecuing, on the agenda. I will use this as my excuse for not writing a blog since returning from Maui.

I was in Maui to spend time with Clay Marzo, a fascinating 19-year-old surfer we will be featuring in the magazine soon. This is, without a doubt, one of the most interesting stories I've worked on, and I feel privileged to get to tell his story. Hopefully this will be the first of many pieces I write on Clay. Stay tuned.

Also, while I was in Maui, I hooked up with four of the most amazing, badass chicks I know and went paddle surfing with them. Maria Souza, Andrea Moller and Dustin Tester--who runs the Maui Surfer Girls camps--are the only all-female team towing into Jaws. That's right. They tow-surf Jaws, one of the nastiest big-wave spots in the world. Nicole is a photographer who has documented their journey over the past four years. I can't believe more people aren't aware of these women, but I'm hoping to change that. Nicole took some fun photos of our surf session, and I'll post them as soon as she sends them to me. (Hint, hint.)

While we're on the subject of surfing, one of my favorite writers (and in yet another example of the Weird Wide Web, my Facebook friend), Allan Weisbecker, is doing some really neat things with the publishing of his most recent book, Can't You Get Along With Anybody?. If you click here, you can download a free e-Book. He decided, since "writing the book nearly killed me, three times," it was more important to him for folks to read the book than for him to make money. I think that is pretty damn cool.

Also, if you want to read about his most recent brush with death, click here. Pretty trippy stuff.

Nicole Sanchez, Maui photographer extraordinaire, e-mailed me some shots from my day of stand-up paddling with the Fabulous Maui Surfer Girls. She's clearly a fantastic lenswoman, because she made me look like a pro ...

First, I had the honor of taking a lesson from Maria Souza, who runs her own paddle surfing school in Maui and is one of the badass chicks surfing Jaws I mentioned in my last post. (And who considers a 40-mile paddle "fun.") We start by warming up our shoulders (and our balance!) on the beach ...

Then she talks me through the correct paddling motion and body position ...

After about 15 minutes of instruction, we head to the water, to practice our (well, my) paddling skills ...

And then, we grab our boards and away we go. I can't think of a more perfect way to spend an afternoon. Thanks, girls!