4:18 today

Red Sox meet the Yankees once again.

4:18? What is up with that? Are the executives, the powers-that-be, testing our devotion, our commitment? “Heh heh, they expect the games to be at the hour or the half-hour…Let’s see how they do with 4:18, baby!!”

Anyway, I am going to watch the game at Dempsey’s Pub. My sister Siobhan, another insane Red Sox fan (she borders on autistic – although her autism doesn’t hold a candle to my brother Brendan’s level of Red Sox knowledge) – is the bartender at Dempsey’s. It’s in the East Village. Her Red Sox mania is so well-known, that Red Sox fans from around the boroughs of Manhattan flock to Dempsey’s, in order to be with their own kind.

So it looks to me like it will be a good atmosphere for today’s lunacy.

Clemens vs. Martinez.

I feel a knot in my stomach.

Bring it on.

Come on, baby, let’s DO this thing.