Hey dudes.

As you know, this afternoon’s game against the Anaheim Angels could well be the first time we’ve celebrated a playoff series clincher on Fenway grass since 1986. Or so they tell me. I was two. Anyway, we’ve got Bronson going today, so we really like our chances. And that’s why they’ve asked me to come here and talk to all of you.

You know, there’s only one thing that scares us more than Curt Leskanic on a wheat beer bender, and that’s, you guessed it, drunk college kids. In fact, the city of Boston is so concerned about how all of you are going to act if the Red Sox do dispatch the Angels this weekend, they’ve essentially laid down the law, and decreed that anyone seen drinking from an open container, wearing a Pokey jersey and shouting “whoop whoop” with their fist in the air like they don’t care will be shot at once.

Guys, we’re all excited about the Red Sox, and even more enticed at the prospect of facing the Yankees in a sequel to last year’s popular and highly profitable ALCS. But the success of our hometown team is not an excuse to indulge in the worst kind of chicanery. Especially when you consider that if anyone does step out of line, we’ll all have to endure a public apology from Mayor Menino to the good people of Anaheim, reminiscent of the 1999 debacle in which His Honor laid down for all of NYC after a couple Fenway fans tossed plastic bottles on the field and at least one disparaging remark about Don Mattingly’s moustache was heard.

If you feel the need to engage in civil disobedience, there are many other, more creative and much safer ways to do so. For example, you could repeatedly crank call the local Pizzeria Uno and launch into a diatribe about a sub-par order of “Chicken Thumbs.” Or jump the T turnstiles without paying the toll. Or, and this is my favorite, strap a couple subwoofers to the hood of your car and drive around the Fens blasting the Huey Lewis and the News CD Fore! If they give you hell, treat ’em to some other classics from the Lewis oeuvre, such as Small World or Sports.

Ladies, of course, are encouraged to remove their shirts as an act of defiance. If they feel uncomfortable doing this in public, they can visit my private suite overlooking the first base line, where I’ll be entertaining the cast of Benson and performing with my band, Trauser. There will be booze and, of course, women for everyone. As many as you want. As you can see, Mr. Millar has already placed his order.

So let’s all just chill out, have a dog and a brew, and enjoy the game without burning the city to the ground. Cool? Remember, jail isn’t funny. Unless it’s someone else who goes there.

Good day, and we’ll see you at 4:10.