Three to get ready...

I use a picture of the fascinating Hideki Okajima because - and I'm not sure if you know this if you haven't been to a game in which Okajima has pitched in the past few years - but the man has the most ridiculous entrance music in baseball and it's been stuck in my head ever since I heard it Friday from the right field bleacher seats.

It's infectious and hilarious and why it isn't the sound of more Bay State ring tones is beyond me. Don't believe me? Have a listen. (You will need headphones lest you scare coworkers).

Pretty amazing, right?

Anyway, Friday's game - which did not begin all that well thanks to Derek Lowe Redux, er, Brad Penny, ended in splendid fashion with the Sox on top 10-8. (Less splendidly for Greta who, decked out in her Orioles gear finest was my seat companion thanks to some free tickets from Joey D. who is pretty much the greatest Yankees-turned-Red Sox fan I could ever hope to know).

Of course, the bleachers at Fenway are never complete without a beer shower which I received in the second inning while moving seats (Row 11, Row 12, they really should mark those things more clearly). The game was not entirely pleasing for either Greta or myself for the first few innings and surely not for both of us at the same time. I must remember to have another talk with Mr. Markakis about the rules set forth in re: his performance against the Red Sox. A grand slam most certainly does not qualify.

However, when Okajima came in in the eighth, Greta and I both dissolved into fits of giggles because how can you not when faced with that kind of aural Japanese insanity? Would you like to hear it again?

By all means.

You're welcome.

The Sox also took care of business on Saturday and Sunday as they are wont to do it appears. You know what they say about water finding it's own level and such. You'll forgive me if I don't have a terrible lot to add about the games as Saturday's was pre-empted by the Bruins Game 2 (Bruins, the Bruins what?) and I spent much time yelling at the television and monitoring the level of my increasing crush on Milan Lucic. (Threat level: severe). I also woke up with a sizable bump on my head this morning the origins of which I am unclear. It's possible I was head-banging in my sleep again but I suspect that perhaps Chrissy is right when she suggests that I might've been living a vicarious hockey game in my sleep and am suffering from post-concussion syndrome. Seems just as likely an explanation as anything else.