Friday, October 05, 2007


Fenway- game one.

It's playoff time. And though you would expect that out of 37,000 giddy people cheering on the Red Sox you would expect that, perhaps, there is a chance that .02 % in attendance may be alien visitors. But I had no time to investigate who was real or not. Game one, Beckett vs. Lackey. What a well pitched game- the excitement, the mile long lines for the bathrooms, the renovated Park dedicate to the rich and suburban, singing of Neil Diamond during the 7th inning---WHY, I had to ask. How can the Red Sox condone Sweet Caroline every every game. The last game I went to (Buchold's no-hitter, no-less) the same song was played. I was told this is a new tradition. Or at least an event attempting to become a tradition. But during this age of blissful censorship and the rape of evolutionary theories I can't help but find the song a bit odd .....
But now I look at the night

And it don't seem so lonely

We fill it up with only two

And when I hurt

Hurtin' runs off my shoulders

How can I hurt when I'm with you

Warm, touchin' warm

Reachin' out

Touchin' me

Touchin' you

Is that poetry? It stings like a plauge when I sing it. The horrible slang, the rhyms for rhymes sake and the Warm touching warm....reads like a frat boy love poem.... Is it better than Bob Dylan. Is this why it chosen.....? WWDW? (what would Dobyans Write?)

Anyways, despite my standing room tickets I witnessed a well pitched "gem". Two home runs and a slice of pizza hut. GO SOX!!! And good luck Rockies, too!!

Tonight Matsuzaka pitches...GAMBATTE!!!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

man, that's better than's frickin' poetry!