Two weeks later, I still can't believe Mark Buehrle pitched a perfect game.

Coincidentally, on Buehrle's day of perfection, I arrived at U.S. Cellular Field earlier than I had all season.

I got off the El a little before 9:30 a.m. on July 23 because I was meeting our intern, Andrew Gier, so that we could film a feature about how everyone thinks I look like Carlos Quentin. (Personally, I don't see the resemblance that much, but that is a story, and a video, for a different day.)

Andrew and I walked into the Sox clubhouse around 10 a.m., trying to find out if any other players or coaches saw the resemblance. A couple of players talked, a few politely declined and Quentin didn't seem that interested to begin with. He told us to try and catch him at his locker in a little bit, but he was busy stretching and getting treatment in the trainer's room.

I wanted to ask Buehrle if he thought Carlos and I could be brothers, but since he was pitching that day I wasn't going to bother him before the game. He was actually the last player I saw stroll into the clubhouse -- and he couldn't have seemed more at ease.

While Andrew and I discussed how nerve-racking a starting pitcher's job has to be, Buehrle stood near his locker, laughing with catcher A.J. Pierzynski. I couldn't believe how calm he was. Most pitchers go into a tunnel-vision trance on the day they are supposed to start. Buehrle looked like he was just spending another day hanging out with his buddies. As we walked back up to the press box, we were just hoping that Buehrle and company would play well so Quentin might be in a better, chattier mood after the game.

The game itself rolled along without much fanfare through the first five innings. Sure, Josh Fields clubbed a grand slam, but the proceedings didn't feel that much different than any other contest. Buehrle was cruising and the Sox looked good.

In the fifth inning, though, things started getting a little different.

I looked up the scoreboard and noticed all the zeros. I racked my brain to remember if anyone had gotten on base -- and nobody had. One of my good friends, who had taken the day off and was not at the park, sent me this e-mail: "I'm already nervous about a no-hitter. If that happens, can you send me Ozzie/Buehrle/postgame craziness? The only reason I think this will happen is because it's my one day off."

Everyone in the press box seemed to be on alert after the fifth. I kept looking in the dugout to see what Buehrle's reaction would be. Would his teammates ignore him? Would he let them? He appeared to be as laid-back as he had been in the clubhouse earlier. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, he was on the verge on something special. The last thing I wanted to do was jinx anything, though. I had always wanted to see a no-hitter live and I wasn't about to mention that phrase or "perfect game" in any sentence whatsoever.

I leaned over to Andrew around the seventh inning and said, "We could be on the verge of something cool here." He looked back over at me and said "I'm too superstitious • I don't even want to say anything."

Lots of other people in the press box did, though. After Buehrle finished the seventh inning I heard several people speak the words "perfect game." One reporter was on his cell phone in the back of the box discussing coverage plans with his staff. "If he pitches a perfect game •" Jinxes were popping up everywhere, but obviously, Buehrle didn't care.

By the top of the ninth, it seemed like everybody was on their feet, even the media members. Aside from the people who had to type, most people were standing and kind of pacing around with nervous energy. One of the ushers came over and stood by us and just kept looking around in disbelief. He wasn't sure what to say or do. At that point, neither was I.

I told Andrew to be ready to turn on the camera and run down to get some footage. When Gabe Kapler put a jolt into a Buehrle pitch during the top of the ninth inning, though, I figured everybody's planning had just flown out of the window. As Dewayne Wise would say later, it definitely looked as if time stood still for a second and everything was going in slow motion.

I'm sure a large majority of people thought the perfect game was going to end as soon as Kapler hit the ball, but I refused to believe that. Buehrle had been unstoppable throughout most of the day, and I figured there was some way Wise would catch that ball. Sure enough • he did. Wise's catch, with everything that was on the line, was the best single catch I've ever seen in person. The Cell exploded in excitement when he finally came down with the ball and from that point on I felt like there was no stopping Buehrle. It was his day.

When Jason Bartlett grounded out to end the game everything turned into one big blur. The usher was looking for someone to high-five. Nobody could believe that they had actually seen what had just happened. Andrew and I raced down the stairs because the elevator wasn't getting to us fast enough. By the time we actually made it to the field, Buehrle was walking back into the dugout with his arms extended in the air. Everyone always talks about the buzz you feel at certain sporting events -- well it was palpable at the Cell that day.

The excitement in the press conferences and the clubhouse was just as palpable. Buehrle's wife, Jamie, sat on the right side of the media room holding the couple's baby in her arms. She sounded emotionally drained, but extremely proud of her husband. Buehrle looked kind of dazed during the media session because he literally couldn't believe what he had just accomplished. Of course, just a couple of minutes later, the magnitude of the moment grew because the media session was abruptly ended for Buehrle to take a call from the president. White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf stood off to the side beaming like a proud papa.

The madness of the day reached a crescendo once we made it back to the clubhouse. Usually after a game, most players are hesitant to talk -- after Buehrle's performance, they actually wanted to talk. They couldn't believe what they had just witnessed, either. Paul Konerko admitted that the game kind of felt like a movie, especially after Wise made his catch. Wise, who was predictably swarmed by reporters, admitted that it was "by far" the best catch he's ever made. Ramon Castro, Buehrle's catcher for the day, stood at his locker and admitted that he told Jose Contreras midway through the game that the left-hander was going to toss the perfecto. Buehrle walked back in with a well-deserved drink in his hands as everyone was getting ready to leave. The press wanted to know how the conversation with the president had gone.

There was a genuine sense of joy amongst all the players -- something that you usually don't see every day in a major league clubhouse. Heck, even Quentin, who seems to be so focused on baseball no matter when you talk to him, ended up talking to us for a couple of minutes. He told us, among other things, that Buehrle game was one of the coolest he's ever been a part of, and that he doesn't think I look like him, at all. It didn't matter at that point -- I had seen a perfect game, and no matter who I did or did not look like, nothing was going to change that.

As the days have passed, the overwhelming feeling I've had is one of luck. No matter where I went after that day, people asked me the same question, "Were you there?" The usher at Wrigley, my friends from all over the country, the bartender at my favorite restaurant -- they all asked the same thing. I was just happy that I could say I was.

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