Do you remember the scene in Purple Rain in which Prince's father tells him to never get married?
Well, I have similar advice for you. Don't ever take the Fenway Park tour unless you've never been to Fenway. It was a 12 dollar rip-off. No Monster, no bullpen, no warning track. The only cool part was sitting in the press area. ( " Look at me! I'm Masserotti! I'm Gordon Edes! Wheeee!")
Also, if you're a member of the Baseball Writers' Association, there's a dress code posted on the door. YOU'D BETTER HAVE A COLLAR ON THAT SHIRT, MCADAM!
In other news, no one really showed up for baseball yesterday, but Phil altered my "swing" a little bit. Yes, with just a little more extension, I was able to hit for slightly more power. And the fucking grass needed to be cut badly. No sproingy ball hops on short, tight grass. Just me in the outfield trying to find the ball or charging a hit that stops like 10 feet in front of me.
Phil is the Papa Jack of our shitty little team!
