So, bringing my transformation into a New York media douchebag full circle, I bought an iPhone the other day. I'm kind of obsessed with it; I sometimes find myself clicking on the little GPS feature, just to remind myself where I am. "Look! The iPhone knows I'm at Trout! It went all the way to outer space to find that out for me." People love when I do this, particularly because it involves me paying zero attention to whatever they're saying.
I'm not a heavy phone talker — when I was editor of this site, I bet Rick and I talked on the phone maybe four times in the three years we worked together — and I'll always feel a little dorky text messaging, even if it's generally accepted as commonplace now. No, the main reason I wanted an iPhone was to check baseball scores when I'm out. During the ill-fated ESPN Mobile fiasco, analysts openly wondered: Who is this mythical creature who needs constant sports scores when they're away from home? I'm sad to say, during baseball season, I am that creature. My old phone had an antennae, for crissakes, and I'd still spend 15 minutes trying to get a half-hour-late Cardinals update from CBS Sportsline's outdated "mobile" program. An iPhone was a necessary upgrade.