Yesterday it was all about waiting. Waiting for the rain to come and transform our lawns from Shredded Wheat to lush, rolling green. Waiting for the Stones to finally take the stage. Waiting for your Uncle Wilhelm to admit that, yeah, he has a bit of a drinking problem and that thing he did at the Cub Scout parade, while humorous on some levels, was totally inappropriate. And waiting for the most formidable offense in all of baseball to finally make itself heard.

And then, like the snap of a finger, it happens. The water falls in sheets. The familiar chords of “Start Me Up” echo through the Fens. Wilhelm picks out curtains for his room at Betty Ford. And, for the Sox, the eighth inning arrives.

Man, was it worth it.

First, we had Edgah slapping a two-out, three-run home run. And when you’re up 3-0 in the eighth with our bullpen… you know you wanna keep scratching for more. So then we have Papi. Tell me he didn’t just bunt. HOLY HARVEY KORMAN, HE DID JUST BUNT! And watching him lumber down to first base was one of the most surreal things my eyes have ever had to accept. Imagine, if you will, Godzilla shuffling over Tokyo, arms flailing through streams of assault copters. It was something like that. And after that sneak attack, Manny launches a two run shot. Exclamation point, baby.

As usual, Schilling made it interesting, giving up three hits and a run. But when the dust cleared, we walked away with a 5-1 victory, a split of the series, and another fine performance by “That’s Jonathan to you” Papelbon, who held Anaheim to five hits over 5 2/3 innings, in our back pockets. It felt good, and it was all good.

Lastly, as much as I despise the obligatory kowtowing to the hometown crowd, I got serious chills hearing the tape of Mick Jagger referencing the Red Sox and Patriots during last night’s show at Fenway Park. If you took in the Stones show at Fenway last night, feel free to tell us about it in the comments section. Set lists, wardrobe malfunctions, signs of consciousness from Keith Richards… all are welcome.

Next up: Kansas City. Home of Billy James Gobble. See you Tuesday.