Sitting at my desk this afternoon, chewing on a particularly dismal ham sandwich, I had a vision. A vision of the Fenway scoreboard flashing the message halfway through tonight’s game that Roy Halladay would be coming to the Red Sox. On cue, the crowd goes apeshit. Jimmy Rice, already in the house to see his number retired pre-game, tears off his shirt, strikes a Hulkamania pose, and shimmies up Pesky’s Pole (not a horrific euphemism, folks, I’m talking the real thing), pumping his fist and working the crowd into a lather. Josh Beckett, swept up in the mood, punches out the umpire. Mike Timlin parachutes onto the field, then, with expert precision, fires an arrow from a crossbow and sends it right through the heart of an A-rod puppet, before declaring the start of the official Yankees Elimination Party. And AC/DC, already in town to play Gillette, show up inexplicably to burn through “You Shook Me All Night Long,” the best shagging song ever recorded.
Nothing in that daydream–with the possible exception of Timlin and his parachute–will ever actually happen. But it sure made lunchtime a little more bearable.
Sox and Oaks at 7:10pm. Swing it, baby.
