from YESNetwork.com

A one out single into left-center in the eighth inning on Sunday at Skydome off left-hander Trever Miller by Bernie Williams was his second and final hit of the afternoon. The All-Star break was only minutes away. In a matter of hours, and back home in the mother country, Bernie would be cranking out many more hits.

This is the story of Bernie's most excellent adventure. And Rudy's. And mine. I don't know about you, but I rarely spend an entire day and night with two guys, who can go through life without the need of a second name, especially in this town. And on this day, Bernie was the headliner. After leaving Toronto, Bernie (with private jet waiting, courtesy of his record company... doesn’t everyone fly this way?) would be flown to Chicago, for his first headlining performance in concert. For the uninitiated, Bernie is a major league guitarist, not merely a major leaguer who dabbles in music. He can play. On Sunday night, in Chicago, Bernie (rapidly becoming the ultimate two-sport star) would debut his new album, and seven of the 12 tunes he wrote, would be released two days later.

The former Mayor of New York (and ultimate Yankee fan) made the trip up from the city to see the game on Sunday at Skydome, would fly with Bernie to Chicago, where he would be the surprise host of the concert. Me? Talk about being along for the ride. Think of me as a cross between Zelig and Gump. Also making the trip was one of Bernie's agents and a couple of Rudy's very large body guards, either of whom would come off as even money against a Sherman tank. (Doesn't everyone travel with their very own body guards?).

An hour or so after the game, Rudy (and his two guys), Bernie (and his agent) and me (myself and I) meet in the Yankee clubhouse, where we are to be ushered to one of those huge black Chevy Suburbans which would take us to a private airport on the outskirts of Toronto. Next stop: Chicago. Home of the Blues. For a gig at the House of Blues. Packed to the rafters. SRO.

After a 45-minute drive to the airport (conversation inside the SUV was small and largely baseball related) we are advised that our plane was going to be 15 or 20 minutes late. Roger Clemens, on his way home to Texas for his unexpectedly brief All-Star break, and Andy Pettitte were also waiting for their jet.

We, that is to say, Bernie, Rudy, the agent, the large guys (the walking weapons of mass destruction) and I are ushered to a private waiting room to wait for the plane. I can get used to this, especially the plush leather recliners. The agent and his cell phone go outside the door, along with the body guards, so here we are. Rudy and I are talking off in a corner of this enormous waiting room, as Bernie pulls out his guitar and CD player and begins rehearsing the songs he would play in concert a few hours later.

Rudy and I look at one another and come to realize, that as we are waiting for the plane in wonderfully excessive comfort, we are being serenaded by the centerfielder of the New York Yankees. Even this icon of the world stage, Rudy Guiliani admits this is very cool. Bernie, on the other hand forgets we are even in the room. He is into the music. Eyes closed. Groovin'. Smooth. Silky. Remember, Bernie Williams the ballplayer was left behind in the Skydome clubhouse. This was now Bernie Williams the musician.

The plane arrives and we depart. In the hour or so it takes to get to Chicago, we take turns reading Jack Curry's piece in the Times about Bernie and his music. Bernie has a grin on his face that occasionally turns to grimace. He is nervous. Bernie playing in front of 55,000 at the Stadium and millions more on television is small potatoes compared to playing his first concert for his first album. But Bernie has always been able to rise to the occasion, now it would be a new venue. That's all. Yeah right, Bernie's thinking to himself... that's all.

From Midway airport, we are taken directly to the House of Blues, for a walk-thru. Bernie sees his band, which includes Ruben Blades and guys who have played with John Mellencamp, Sting and James Taylor. We are not talking shlubs here. This is all very big time.

Two-and-a-half hours later, the show begins. Rudy Guiliani appears on stage out of the dark. The jaw-dropping crowd goes crazy. Rudy talks a bit about Chicago, New York, 9/11, and then introduces Bernie talking about how he plays the guitar with the same state of grace that he plays centerfield.

And for the next hour-and-a-half or so the crowd comes to realize the former mayor was absolutely right. Bernie was nervous, as if it was the first inning of the seventh game of the World Series. But as the game (gig) moved on, Bernie warms to the occasion... and knocks the crowd out. His band with whom he recorded the album respects him as a musician first and ballplayer second. This was, and is, no novelty act.

Imagine Bernie's day last Sunday. He wakes up. He will start the day playing baseball and finish the day playing guitar. Two different stages. Two different countries. Two solid singles in Toronto. A few hours later, a new album being performed live for the first time.

Imagine just once in your life trying to do one of those things, even marginally well. But both, exceptionally well, on the same day? That was Bernie's Sunday. And so how was yours?