That of which we do not speak

I haven't lived in Boston for over 3 years now. I don't miss it that much on a day-to-day basis (except Anna's Taqueria, of course); in fact, the "all Red Sox, all the time" treatment grows slightly tired after a few days at home. But when Big Papi hits ANOTHER walk-off home run (like he did tonight), well, it's hard not to feel a little far from home. After all, in New York, we get stuff like this:

I mean, is that really necessary? Did A-rod help you pick the scent?

Ah, much, much better. I would also like to go on the record as saying that Wily Mo Pena is an upgrade at this point in right field over Trot Nixon. There, I said it. Trot, good hustle all these years, enjoy your twilight years in Milwaukee, or KC, or Philly.