I Don't Want to Talk About It

(photo: The Jacksons and Sepecks in happier hours during the rain delay)

I'd rather talk about anything else than what went down at Fenway. I'd rather rehash Matt Del's discussion of "anal bleaching" that came out of nowhere during our pre-game dinner at Canestaro.

(photo: "Don't tinker with your sphincter")


The "silver bullet," my umbrella and would-be talisman, could not prevent the skies from opening up over Fenway. But I'm pleased to report that the rain delay was a high-spirited one.


I'm happy to talk about seeing Wally run amok on the concourse and how I half-expected to see Bags chasing him with an aluminum baseball bat.





Happy to say I ran into my old friend Bob from high school just outside the ladies loo.



I can talk about but wouldn't do justice to Dayna's pitch-perfect heckle of Jason Giambi: "WASH YOUR HAIR!"

I'd love to tell you all about these 2 guys:


1) The guy sitting behind us wearing an "A-Rod Drinks Winecoolers" shirt

2) Johnny Demon, who would bolt up the aisle -- his red satin cape flying behind him -- and bark at Damon whenever he was on deck.







All told, it was the most exciting game I've seen all season...until the ninth inning. Beyond that, I just don't want talk about it. But I will say this: At Fenway, there are two simple truths: Foul balls and bats will always hurt --- and the Yankees will always suck.