In the midst of the pennant race last fall, my husband found himself caught up in a series between the Phillies and the Braves, battling it out for first place in the National League East. Like tens of thousands of men, he's followed baseball and been a fan of "his" team as long as he can remember.

This tendency among men fascinates me. I have no concept of what that kind of lifelong loyalty is like. I can't say I'm still passionate about anything from my girlhood, with the possible exceptions of chocolate or watching I Love Lucy. But those aside, do I feel passion about an entity - a team - a hobby - an activity - anything that truly captivated me as a girl? Not really. Thirty years ago, I was passionate about roller skating (skate key and all); weaving potholders on that little loom with those multicolored bands; my EasyBake Oven (I now have a DifficultBake oven in my kitchen); talking on the phone to my girlfriends for four solid hours; Donnie Osmond; Jim Croce and Janis Ian albums, and sleepovers.

Men have . . . fantasy baseball camps. These are places where grown men - who have seemingly found their ways in the world and live fairly contentedly in their four-bedroom, 21/2-bath suburban houses - go to pretend they're major league baseball players. It kills me. They know they're not good enough; they gave up on that dream at about age 11. But still - they go.

Maybe they're a little overweight or out of shape, but they go. They haven't pitched more than two innings in a row in about 30 years, but they go. They pay thousands of dollars to pretend for a week that they're in the big leagues. They get to stand side by side with the real guys they watch endlessly for six months every year, guys that in some cases they have idolized since their youths.

Can you stand it? To what extent will men go to live out their dreams? Do they ever really give them up? Most important, what do they really get out of all this? I'm assuming it's escapist fun in warm, sunny surroundings. But how does this experience rank in their whole lifetime continuum? Does it make the Top 20? The Top Two?

So what's the equivalent experience for a woman? It took me about 15 seconds to realize the answer: nothing. We don't have one. And I think we need one.

What could it possibly be? What camp would draw almost exclusively women and represent something so unattainable, so not-real but somehow still inexplicably desirable, that it truly deserves the name of fantasy?

Then it hit me: Supermodel Fantasy Camp.

Where we all go for a week, wear black, hang around emaciated women who stand five feet, 11 inches tall and - pretend we're thin and gorgeous. I know. But it's as real as men pretending to be major leaguers.

Even the wildest fantasies have their limits. I'm much more inclined to sign up for the "You Get to Hold the Remote, Watch Countless Romantic Comedies on the VCR, and Enjoy All the Microwave Popcorn and Diet Coke You Can Stand" Fantasy Camp. Or maybe the "Wear Your Favorite Sweatpants and Lounge Around Your Spotless House" Fantasy Camp.

Is there a theme? A suggestion for the perfect gift for the woman in your life? Try giving her one day a month at one of the camps outlined above. Or develop one that's uniquely hers.

And look at her every night as if she's just come back from Supermodel Fantasy Camp.

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