— First and foremost, being Johnny Damon does! not! suck!
— Everytime I see a close-up of Mark Bellhorn during a game telecast, the first thing I think is, “Hey, he looks just like that guy from the ’80s metal band.” But which guy is it? Can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s not Kip Winger. Is it Gary Cherone of Extreme and Van Halen Mach 3? Help me out here.
— The night the ball went through Buckner’s legs, I was sitting in my friend Rich’s house watching the game with a few buddies. I was a freshman in college and we all jumped around like smacked asses, waving towels and yelling “wooooooo” long before it was considered something you could do in public. I distinctly remember saying out loud, when the Sox recorded the Mets’ second out of the ninth, “I can’t believe the Red Sox are going to win the World Series.”
— How is it that “JAG” is still on the air? Does anyone actually watch this?
— The night of game 6 of the 2003 ALCS, the power went out in our neighborhood. I had no battery-operated radio laying around (so much for terrorism preparedness), so we climbed in the car and drove around aimlessly in the dark, listening to the Sox make an improbable comeback. By the time Trot hit that home run off Gabe White, we were stationed under a light in a McDonald’s parking lot, screaming like lunatics. That was a good night.
— During game 7 of the same ALCS, I was on a business trip, to New Jersey of all places. I sat in a hotel bar with my boss, fumbling with a burger and nervously watching the Sox build their lead. After Millar’s homerun, I pumped my fist, drawing the ire of the Yanks fans who had packed the place. I quickly finished my beer and went up to my room, where I paced like a lunatic through the late innings. When Ortizzle greeted Wells with a long home run, I called my Dad in Boston and told him it was over. No way the Sox could lose this one. By the ninth inning’s close, I was watching from the bed, too nervous to move. As soon as Boone’s shot left the bat, I shut off the TV. The next morning, I sat in a meeting room full of Yankees fans and decided I wasn’t saying another word until I got back on home turf.
— Am I the only person in the world who owns a copy of Brian Setzer’s “The Knife Feels Like Justice”? More importantly, am I the only one who admits to loving it?
— Tonight we get Schilling vs. Hudson. At Fenway. On a Tuesday night. Tell me this isn’t the greatest country in the world.
— Being Johnny Damon still does! not! suck!