BOSTON BOUND

I'm now about ten hours from departure for the baseball mecca of Boston, Mass. It would only be fitting that tonight Roger Clemens pitched a beauty in the Bronx against my beloved Bosox. I fell in love with the Red Sox when Clemens was the premier flame-thrower for the league for the Red Sox and Boggs (who also went on to win a championship for the Spanks) was my hero. Of course, there was Kirby, but the Red Sox were my team and still are. We replaced Boggs with Mueller, then with Youkilis, then with Lowell. It's been a long road, geez. I'm listening to Jeru's The Sun Rises in the East and I'm feeling nostalgic. This was long before the days of Rory texting me after every play (Yeah, I'm getting your texts, man. I gotta pay for mine, homie. Sorry I didn't reply.) This was long before Eric Smith would give me hell over every series. This was when I was a little tike who knew as much about baseball as I did love. But I knew one thing: I loved the Red Sox. Well, this weekend, I guess you could say I'm going to the prom with my dream date. That dream date is my lovely wife and prom will be a Sunday afternoon affair against the Horriboles--Angry Tim's team when he gets over his hate for the designated hitter and actually pulls for an American League team. I'll be at Fenway--the last great ballpark in all of the land. I mean, there's Wrigley (which my brother would contend is tops) and Yankee Stadium (which is soon to be obliterated and made into a parking lot...thank God) and then there's Fenway.

(goes to the record player to turn over to the Side B of The Sun Rises in the East)

This is it. Boston. Fenway. September. Best record in the league, but definitely reachable. Yankees are playing good ball. Damn good ball. And I'm going to be in the heat of it in the afternoon shadow of Pesky Pole. Should be a good time. Don't worry, I (b)log everything so there'll be plenty of pictures and commentary, as one would expect. It'll be the only time you'll ever catch me spending $7.00 for beer and, quite possibly, doing it multiple times. My prediction is that Dice-K will give up five runs, but the Sox will end up winning the game in the late innings by the score of 7-5. That'd be Sunday's game for those scoring at home. Lowell will go deep and so will Eric Hinske. Papelbon will close it out. That's my read on it. Kevin Millar will be welcomed with cheers, but will go 0-4. Melvin Mora will go 2-4 with a double and an RBI.

Leaving the hounds in the trusty hands of Angry Tim (good dog-sitter) and Mr. David (equally sturdy). I paid Tim in Fat Tire and David in Tito's Vodka. Jax still thinks that Trot Nixon plays for the Sox and Tucker has tabbed Dustin Pedroia as his favorite player. He identifies with the young-spirited, scrappy ball player.

I'm out, folks. I'll be back in on Labor Day and will hope to throw something up that night, but I imagine my ass is going to be whooped so don't hold me to it. Keep rockin'.