Since I used to be in a band called The Pac-Men, it is only fitting that I am now the reigning Pac-Man champion in the arcade over at RedSoxNation.Net.

The ghosts in that Pac-Man game don't have the same personalities (ghostalities?) as they do in the real arcade game. Blinky should be the aggressor; Clyde aka Bashful should be, well, you know, like Manny.

In this version, there's not much rhyme or reason to what the ghosts are trying to accomplish. Sometimes they seem to actually be protecting the power pellet, which is unheard of in the arcade. And you can tell when one is going for the kill. But they definitely get dumber as they get faster. So try to stay alive for as many boards as possible--this is more important than eating ghosts, I think. Plus, if you can get to the "key" boards, those keys are worth 5 grand a pop, and they come up a lot of times per board. In the arcade they only come up twice per board.

While I'm giving away secrets, here's the key to the game Snake (which I also have the high score to, heh heh.) Play the middle speed. At the fast speed, I topped out in the 4 thousands. At the middle speed, I think I got 5600 or so, before it got erased.

What does this have to do with the Red Sox? Uhhhh...the Red Sox, uh, go through season after season, "boards" if you will, and, uh, try to avoid the ghosts. And every time they finish a season, they power up for the next, but the ghosts are there again all powered up as well. And it never f***ing ends.

Yeah, that's it.

I'm going to Fenway on Wednesday. On top of my 10-game plan, I got tix to two other games. One of them being Wednesday. I could've chosen Tuesday (or Thursday), but I figured, break up the week, go for Wednesday. Had I chosen Tuesday, I'd get to see Pedro pitch, I'd get to see fatboy Wells pitch and boo the crap out out of him, and I'd possibly get to see Nomar's return. Oh well. Gimme a win and I'll be happy.

Listened to my boy Kay today, as he decided to show up for his radio show. He was trying to say that certain athletes should be considered "champions" whether or not they actually played on a championship team. His example was, "you can't tell me Don Mattingly's not a champion." I'm telling you, Michael, he's not. Sorry. Since when do yankee fans allow people that never won a championship to be called champions? Oh wait, 2001, when "both teams won" the World Series. Man, I keep forgetting who I'm dealing with here.

He also was saying, "You can't tell me Karl Malone's not a champion, just because Jordan pushed off and made the final shot against the Jazz." Uhhh...

The point is, I would've loved to call in at that moment, and said, "So, Michael, Pedro Martinez is definitely a champion, right? If Aaron Boone doesn't hit a bad knuckleball out, the Sox would've definitely won. You can't tell me he's not a champion!" And the whole '86 team for that matter, "Come on Kay, if Calvin Schiraldi could've just gotten one more strike, it would've been over, therefore, Dave Stapleton and Al Nipper are definitely champions." I think his whole deal was that he was confusing "champion" with "superstar."

Just another one of Kay's mental problems. He's so damn stubborn that if he says something, even if he clearly hasn't thought the whole thing through, he'll stick to that opinion, no matter what. He could never admit to being wrong.

I was just saying the other day that I always wished I could hang out with someone who was in jail for 50 years, so I could tell them everything they missed. And then bring them to the beach and show them Jet-Skis. You know, stuff like that. Except nowadays, they've got TV in jail so they pretty much all know what's going on. But I'm sure there are plenty of people who've been in a coma for a while. I'd like to get on a list of people that get to show newly-awakened coma victims around. But their family members probably have that covered.

So I was in NYC on Friday with two friends, and we met up with my friend's other friend who lives in the city, and who I'd never met before. (I insisted we eat at the Riviera Cafe on West 4th Street, where the Red Sox are always the featured game, and Sox fans rule.) So this guy--the one I'd never met--had been in Europe and Central America for the last year, and missed the whole baseball season, and wanted me to fill him in on the '03 playoffs. So in a way, I got my wish. Only this was even better, because I got to talk about just baseball. (He's aware of the microwave oven, VCRs, etc.)

It was kinda cool to relive the whole thing, except for the end, of course. But still, it was like therapy in a way. It was good to say some things out loud that I'd kept inside since last October. Plus, the guy is a very anti-yankee New Yorker despite not being a huge baseball fan, so he was sympathetic. (Had he been a yankee fan, I'd have been outnumbered 3 to 1 at the table.)

Unfortunately, that night's game was a bummer.

But the next day...my luck changed.

My friend Chan had an extra ticket to Bob Dylan at the Mohegan Sun casino. I can't pretend to be a big Dylan fan, but I figured: A. How often do you get to see a living legend? B. It's free. and C. I'll be at a place where I can bet the Belmont Stakes.

So we headed for Uncasville, CT, about a two hour ride.

We got there and Chan decided he'd throw in an equal amount to what I bet, and we'd split any winnings, since he knows nothing about betting on horses. So I decided that if we were gonna win any kind of serious cash, we'd have to go against Smarty Jones. The big plan I devised? Bet on every other horse. I figured that way, all we'd have to do is root for eight horses out of nine, and if the second choice wins, we'd get break (roughly) even, and if any other horse won, based on the odds, we score pretty big.

So when that 4 horse was gaining down the stretch, knowing he'd gone off at 35-1, me and Chan were going nuts. It was like Times Square on New Years' eve inside the betting area to begin with, and that race made it even crazier. That was definitely my favorite horse race of all time. Me and Chan got like 90 bucks each.

Then we found out Reagan died. Four years ago, my friend Bruce and I made a one dollar bet: Who will die first, the Pope or Ronald Reagan? I chose the Pope. Damn you Reagan, screwing the little guy yet again. So I won a bet and I lost a bet, but the loss was negligible.

So then we headed over to the arena, and literally put our butts in our seats as the PA was saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, Bob Dylan..." No waiting. At a concert. Me and Chan timed it just right.

Dylan was pretty cool. He sounded like Adam Sandler a lot, though. He said nothing to the crowd except for introducing the band. "On guitar, deeb deeeba; dooba deebadoob, druuums." Everything he plays is way different than the way it was originally written. I could barely make out Like A Rolling Stone, It Ain't Me, and Highway 61. Chan said the last song was All Along The Watchtower. I completely missed this, despite being familiar with the tune.

Going home, after my lucky day, I knew the Red Sox had won. Schilling on the mound, after such a bad spell, they had to have won. Fortunately I was right. And with today's win, which I also missed most of, the magic number is down to 110 through D-Day.

My friend Calvin informed me that Michael Kay has signed a five-year contract with the "Hell, No" network. If there is a god, I invite him or her to please help us all.

One final note: RIP Robert Quine

2 1/2 back, but not the end of the world. Although it doesn't help to think about the fact that the New York Mets are also 2 1/2 out of first place.

It's weird about these yankee fans. The usual culprits at work seem to wear yankee shirts about 1/4 as much as they used to. If I judged this season by yankee shirts worn by yankee fans, and didn't watch any games or pay attention to the sports reports, (sound familiar, yankee fans?) I'd say the Sox were 8 games up. I think the Sox beating the yanks 6 out of 7 really affected them. Now we need to start doing that to some other teams.

Tried channel 78 today, the color bars are gone, and a new channel is on the air, and it's... BET. Still no NESN. Oh well, at least I can watch Diff'rent Strokes reruns. I think they have those on there. I'd rather see the Red Sox, though.

Unless Lowe is on the mound; then give me Arnold and Willis. And the Gooch.

Remember how we had Carney Lansford at third base, and he won a batting title, and he got injured, and the rookie sensation Wade Boggs took his place? Kinda like now with Mueller and Youkilis. Weird.

In other news, the yankees continue to be the luckiest, most despicable, disgusting team in the world, and they and the Orioles should take turns executing each other until both rosters are all dead. (Jeter would have to kill himself when everyone else is dead.)

But fear not, tonight I heard the sentence, "And the yankees take out Tanyon Sturtze, and here comes Bret Prinz." It's gonna explode soon.

Between that last paragraph and this one, I just watched the Orioles leave the tying run on third in the ninth against the yankees for the second night in a row. Over the past two nights: Contreras couldn't make it out of the first inning, Gordon stunk, Rivera stunk, Jeter made a key error, Tanyon Sturze and Bret Prinz pitched for the yankees, and the O-birds, who scored like 13 runs against us not three days ago, can't pull out one victory.

Magic number's still 113. F the yanks.

I've been listening to Air America a lot lately. It's the nationwide left-wing radio station--1190 AM in NY, I don't know if Boston has an affiliate. It's hilarious how Al Franken's people listen to Rush Limbaugh until they here a lie, and then report it on their show (which is called "The O'Franken Factor"). I think it's cool that they do this, and it's funny how that's what I do, too, only with Michael Kay's radio show and game broadcasts...

So I put on Michael Kay's radio show today, to hear some lies, but the whole time I was listening, he was talking about how you're not a man if you give someone a fruit basket. He and his stupid producers were talking about this for my whole ten-minute break. Then he finally decided to take some calls. Oh good, I thought, he's moving on. But no. He asked the callers how they felt on the fruit basket issue. It was really pathetic.

That whole ESPN radio station--1050 AM in NY--is ridiculous. They never talk about sports. They're always just joking around. Now I'm all for joking around, but I don't want to put on a radio station to hear three dudes laughing at each other's private jokes, using stupid catch phrases that only they understand.

The Dan Patrick show is like a Simpsons parody of an FM radio station.

Anyway, maybe I'll get you some Kay lies tonight on the yankee game.

Meanwhile, I've actually been able to see four of the last six Red Sox games on TV, between ESPN2 and going to my folks' house, in NESN country. Man, I wish I lived in New England--oh wait, I have, all my life.

But I have noticed that channel 78 has color bars on it, which has gotten my hopes up. I figure it's gotta be "on hold" for NESN, right? Maybe. I'd give it a .001 per cent chance.

The magic number going into June is 113. Too bad we're percentage points behind, but that will change as the Sox go for their first win west of the Mississippi tonight.

"The Mighty Mississip'. The Ole Miss. The Ole Man. Deep Riverrrrr..."-Clark Griswold

My friend Chan was saying to me the other day, "You're really into baseball this year." And I said, "Yeah, just like every year." And he said, "But this year specifically, you're really into it."

So, I've been thinking back on past years, and just to show him what he's missed, or in some cases, forgotten, here's some highlights:

1979, age 3: memorized every player's name on the Red Sox and yankees. (I have this on audio tape.) After my dad went through the list of Red Sox first names, with me filling in the last names, I said, "Dad, you forgot one. Jimmy Wright." And I meant Jim Wright, too, we'd already covered Jim Rice.

1987, age 11: kept track of Sox wins and losses all season. Not that big a deal, except when you consider I wrote out the entire schedule on a piece of paper, and then marked "W" or "L," istead of using a pre-printed schedule.

also 1987: kept a game log in a spiral notebook, pasting in every boxscore and article about the Red Sox.

1989, age 13: Spent at least 100 bucks total (of my parents' money) on baseball stickers, just so I could be the first to fill my Panini sticker book. (As I'd been doing with the Topps Sticker Book since it's innaugural year of 1981.)

1993, age 18: arrived at college in Lincoln, Nebraska, and a week later dragged two friends, one a yankee fan, the other a non-baseball fan, to Kansas City, to see the Sox play the Royals, making the yankee fan drive, since I had no car. (Saw Jose Lind spray Tony Pena with a hose.)

1998, age 22: Went to Detroit and Pittsburgh, just to see baseball games at stadiums I'd never been to--with Chan.

2000, age 24: Went to Blatimore to see the Sox--with Chan again.

2002-2004: Went to see the Sox in Baltimore, Philly, Pittsburgh, New York (just like almost every year), and Toronto.

So c'mon Chan, I've always been into this. I guess now that I'm in cyber---oh god, I can't even say cheesy buzz words like that. The point is, you're just noticing it more, Chan.