I know there's something important happening tonight...

The following is a conversation between Luna and myself in which we attempt to distract ourselves from the fact that playoffs start in, um, nine hours.

Me: On a scale of 1 to 10, how hungover is Josh Beckett in this picture?

Luna: 42. Also, he really needs to muss up his hair.

Me: He retains more water than a pregnant woman on a pretzel and salt lick diet. Also? WINNER: Jason Varitek's new designer facial hair.

Luna: No man should be that attractive in white pants. Seriously. What is with the power of the scruff?

Me: The slide-ruled and precise scruff, it's like kryptonite. Maybe it gives him special powers?

Luna: Jason Varitek is my kryptonite under any damn circumstances, I'm afraid.

Me: Do you think Tek refuses to change his at bat music because "Kryptonite" is a shout out to us? I'm going to pretend that's the truth.

Luna: I think he refuses to change it because he is ACTUALLY SUPERMAN.

Me: Hee, I just cracked myself up conjuring a mental image of Tek trying to change into his uniform in a too-small phone booth and getting stuck while trying to get his shin guards on and swearing to himself. And then Mike Lowell stands outside with his arms folded across his chest and rolling his eyes and Tek notices him and gives him that "Help me out, wouldja?" look until Lowell sighs and opens the door so Tek can fall out and finish hooking his chest protector on.

Luna: It all works out in the end, because they totally kick Braniac's ass.

Me: Naturally. There but for the grace of chin-high fastballs...

Luna: Also, you know those pictures of Tek after he scored the 9th-inning winning run in that Tampa Bay game? Everyone hugging and jumping on Coco, and Tek walking away dusting his hands off like he's reunited the lost children and their parents and he's letting them have their moment but feeling satisfied that he did his job--he doesn't need thanks? Goodness is its own reward? And then Youk and Mikey notice and pounce all over him? Yeah. It's a good thing.

Me: Awwww, happy place.

Luna: Topic: if Alex Cora and Dustin Pedroia are going to manage a team one day, which one will it be? They can't have the Sox, I'm saving them for Tek and Kapler.

Me: The Royals. Because they'll be plucky and upstart but goshdangit, they work hard and they believe in themselves!

Luna: Petey really must manage or coach one day so that he can charge the field and get ejected all the time, Lou Piniella's Tantrum Camp-style.

Me: Lou Piniella's Tantrum Camp is the new name of my make believe band. Congratulations.

Luna: Win for me! Terry Francona: Not an alum.

Me: Flunked out in the first semester, the poor guy. Paul Lo Duca, however, has an honorary degree.

Luna: The honor roll is written on a base removed from the field of play.

Me: We must get Cooperstown on this posthaste.

Luna: Alert the proper authorities.

Me: You know what I just realized? Jason Varitek almost never wears a hat. Hmmm. But he also doesn't wear one of those stupid hockey mask thingies. Which is good. Because this is not Canada. And also those are newfangled. And Tek fears change. As evidenced by the fact that he hasn't changed his at-bat music since 1998.

Luna: Yeah, he wears his PROPER gear and probably still kvetches about the knee savers. He does wear a hat in the dugout, and what I find really adorable is how he ALWAYS turns his helmet around, bill forward, whenever he takes the mask off. Because this is not one of your hip-hop concerts, Josh Beckett.

Me: "And I don't care what the Ja Rule says, you do not wear your hat backwards or indoors. And pull up your pants, young man!"

Luna: Tek "young mans" Beckett a lot.

Me: Wouldn't you?