Rain out in Baltimore. And I’m not really complaining, because, sadly, whatever magic Tim Wakefield briefly reclaimed last Thursday was absent last night. The Os tagged him for four runs over two and a half innings before Mother Nature said, “To hell with this,” and let loose. Interestingly, our bats looked poised to come to the rescue before the skies opened up; two runs in the top of the third and a man on first with Ortiz at the plate when the umps made the call.

So we wait for tonight’s game, which features Schilling against Borkowski. And whenever Schill-dog’s on the hill, I like our chances.

But as the rain slowly makes its way up the coast, a few thoughts:

— Is Randy Johnson going to the Yankees? I have to say I really don’t give a flying handshake. I mean, I acknowledge that it won’t be particularly cool for Sox fans, and a NY playoff rotation featuring the Unit, Vazquez, Mussina and Brown is pretty frickin’ formidable. But I think it gives us even more incentive to keep grinding. We can’t stop Steinbrenner from spending money; might as well channel our energies into making him feel like he’s wasted it.

— Meanwhile, as we focus on the Unit sweepstakes, the Empire is also contemplating life after Giambi, who is suffering from some bizarre combination of steroid withdrawal and “John-Hurt-in-‘Alien'” syndrome. Today’s NY Post notes that the team is considering everything from Fred McGriff to Tino Martinez to Carlos Delgado.

— As I’ve said many times before, I love Wakefield. But I worry about him as the days become precious and few. He is a rock and a stand-up guy and a new dad and seems like the kind of person who calls his mom every day and carries a sack lunch with “Timmy” scrawled on it. But I just can’t say I feel comfortable any time he’s on the mound these days. Blink your eyes during a Tim Wakefield start and it can very well be 8-0 before you open them again. And that’s not good.

— Karim Garcia could be the older, pudgier brother of Thomas Lennon of “The State” and “Reno 911!” fame.

— After every Red Sox game, I read the blogs. See the ones listed on the right hand side under “Commiseration”? Go visit each and every one of them, for they are good. Lately, I’m spending way too much time at Rally Cuff, which features more four letter words than an episode of “Deadwood.” Sarah, you continue to rock my lame Irish ass.

— Best Baseball Names Ever, the Finalists. This is my “All Wacked-Up Names Team” and I will be taking them on the road this summer to local ballparks and correctional facilities where they will engage in Globetrotters-like hijinks (only, like, with a baseball not a basketball) to entertain the masses while teaching kids important lessons like “drugs are bad” and “horses will bite if provoked” and “not even Night Ranger enjoyed Night Ranger’s music.” Players will include:

Sixto Lezcano

Lyman Bostock

Shooty Babbitt

Coco Crisp

Skeeter Barnes

Micky Klutts

Rusty Kuntz

Pete LaCock

Chone Figgins

Cookie Rojas

— Watching Tony Clark playing at Fenway over the weekend reminded me of one of my favorite all-time baseball quotes. When Clark was with us, he snared a smoking line drive hit by one of the Devil Rays. To anyone who wasn’t the size of Chewbacca, this ball would have been light years out of reach. But Clark just reached out and snagged it. After the game, Pinella lamented what might have been, saying, “There was nothing we could do. We hit it right at a giant.”

— We cannot, cannot, cannot, CANNOT go .500 on this roadtrip. No. Nope. Nyet. I think 7-4 would be acceptable, but I’d really like to see 8-3. Tampa Bay and Detroit? Gotta sweep them. Have to do it. Actually… as I think about it, with last night’s postponement whittling the number of games on this trip from 12 to 11, it really will be impossible for them to go .500. But you get what I’m saying, right?