While Friday night was split between (a) slumming back to Boston from NYC on the $10 Chinatown bus and (b) watching akward-looking girls dance at some b-list club / chinese food restaurant (The Hong Kong, anyone?) with Mike.D, Rob and the rest of the Harvard kids, Saturday was all about the first time the Sox and Yankees have met at Fenway for playoff baseball since 1999.

Saturday morning I movtivated over to Jay's college roommate Steve's apt on a pre-game adventure. Here, already four beers into the morning, Jay and Steve trip up the Boston Police with their roadies cleverly wrapped in restaurant flyers, poor-man brown bag style.

ps: Mom! Jonathan took my shirt without asking! Moooooooommmmmm!


3:15 and we're in the stadium, two complementary "Cowboy Up" towels in hand. We had just left Jay's friends on Lansdown Street, Steve eyeing a one foot gap under the fence surrounding the player's parking lot as an opportunity to sneak into the game. Jay and I left before anyone got arrested.

Inside the park, we sat in the (relatively new) courtyard enjoying steak and cheesys (fo' sheezy my neezy keep my arms so freezy, huh?) chatting it up with these two old-time Red Sox fans, one of whom called the infamous bench cleaning brawl a good 30 minutes before the first pitch.


3:30 and we motivate to out seats amongst the madness of the Fenway underground. I don't think I've ever seen Fenway as packed as this.


Chalk this one us as another one of the best games I've ever seen...

Pedro beans Garcia in the back.
Garcia takes out Walker with a dirty slide at second.
Garcia heckles Pedro on the way back to the bench.
Posada & Zimmer heckle Pedro from the dugout.
Pedro gestures that he's going to bean Posada upside the head.
Clemens kind-of-but-not-really throws at Manny.
Manny steps to the mound, bat in hand.
Both benches clear. Relievers rush in from the bullpen (which I've never seen before).
Zimmer circumvents the scuffle and charges directly at Pedro.
Pedro throws Zimmer to the ground.
Good times.

Extra Credit: Check out Jonathan's recap of the game.


When it all settled down, the "Cowboy Up" signs came out again (though this one is kind of ghetto). Don't forget the Cowboy Hats... and shirts, and mugs, and hats.

Bonus points: +5 for the banzeezie.


Classic.

Makeshift "Cowboy Up" sign constructed from a discarded Papa Gino's box.


We all know how the game ended up... Yankees win (and lead the series 2-1).

Despite the sausage...


... we both left disappointed.

"Should we even go out? Is anyone going to be in the mood to drink up? Should we just head home?"


For good measure, Jay dials up Steve (roommate from college). Steve's hanging out at Jake Ivory's, some piano bar behind Fenway. He tells us to head on over, forget about the line, he'll be able to get us in, blah blah blah. Now, there's no way we're getting into a bar on Lansdown Street right after a game without waiting 2 hours in line. Especially after a Sox/Yankees game. Especially during the playoffs. No way. Steve assures us there's no problem.. just head on over.

Sure enough, we get there and there's a giant line outside - actually less of a line, more of a mass of people standing around. Meanwhile, the bouncer outside is being all agro, yelling to the crowd "I don't even know why you're standing around! We're not letting anyone in!" People are pleading their cases at the door but nothing is happening. Jay dials up Steve, who tells us to hold up a minute. Two minutes later, Steve appears at the door, exchanges a few words with Johnny Bouncer #2 and we get waved in - just like that - past the mass of people standing around, pass the previously glaring other bouncer...

Johnny Bouncer #1:"Where did you think you're going?"
Johnny Bouncer #2: "Wait, it's cool... they're with The Cable Guy."

So, we get ushered in all VIP (well, as VIP as you can get around Fenway at least), and Steve starts telling us this story about how he (and Meghan and Robin and the rest of Jonathan's cute friends from high school) showed up at Jake Ivory's before the game they found that of all the TVs at the bar only one of them was hooked up with cable, meaning there was only one TV that could show the game. Steve volunteers his services to fix the mess, convincing the bartender to give him $140 cash to run to the nearest Radio Shack and purchase all the magic pieces needed to make ubiquitous cable happen... all in return for the privledge for him (and his friends) to drink free all night long.

So the legend goes, 20 minutes later he returns with 300 feet of coax cable and a handful of splitters, making quick work to wire up the bar. To a crowd to cheering Red Sox fans, the cable is switched on, the game is on every TV, Steve takes a bow and collects a bucket of free drink tickets.

When Jonathan and I show up after the game, these kids are at table littered with the empty remains of all-you-can-drink... I mean, a whole table covered in Bug Light bottles and 22 oz. big-boy Coronas.


"Where can we get some of these tickets," I asked before Meghan emptied one of her pockets.


This was the scene more often than not - Steve returning from a 2 minute hiatus with more drinks than most normal men can carry. All free. All delicious.


Three of the bottles featured in the last photo were promptly knocked off the table, immediately replaced with ever newer, ever free-er beers.


Judging by the history of content on this site, you probably know what the rest of the evening is all about... people licking faces, making out, spilling drinks... Here Jonathan and a random mix of friends from high school, friends from college and me, the older brother in this story.

Note: Tallboy Corona's for everyone! Wait, who took this photo?


As a wise man once said, "The problem with free drinks is that when they're free, you just start wasting them. And by wasting them, I mean spilling them."


Like real quick we went from dance party...


... to JJ being on the wrong end of a McGinley beatdown.

Take note: Meghan kicks, Laura slaps asses.


Here, everyone except me.

(sniffle).


Just the ladies, please.

Clockwise: Christina, Lauren, Laura, Meghan.


If only I had a dollar for every photo that looked exactly like this.


Hello there, sticker on Laura's crotch...


Curious.


Scandalous.


Disgusting.


Delicious.

ps: This is just about as ghetto as white suburban schoolgirls with pigtails get.


JJ, rocking the Mystikal look. Holla!


Things. Getting. Hazy.

I have a video clip of Jonathan leading Steve around on a makeshift leash fashioned out of Jonathan's belt. It is a miracle we didn't get booted from this place... actually, the only reason we didn't get tossed is because (a) we were with The Cable Guy(tm) and (b) The Cable Guy was with 5 girls who were slapping random people's asses. Jake Ivory's clientele love that shit.


Fast forward to the next morning real quick. Meghan keeps asking about the big mystery-bruise she has on her back. "Did I fall somewhere?"

A look at the tape suggests that the blame falls on Steve - guilty of dropping Ms. Meghan somewhere on the way to the T.


Back to the piano bar, I'm not sure if we left because we were asked to, because we had our fill, or because we hit Boston's 2am curfew. Either way, about 20 minutes later we were on the T - Jonathan causing a scene by secretly trying to play DJ on some random (sober) commuters discman all while slapping the (already broken) glasses off poor Laura face.


One can not be certain, but I may have been responsible for encouraging Jonathan's attempted hurdle of a parking meter. Now I want to be honest here and say that I didn't realize it was actually it was one of those two-parking-meters-stuck-together setups. Sorry about that.

I'm not sure if the ripped crotch and exposed man-parts is a result of the botched parking meter hurdle or the result of a Nuedo smackdown. Please advise.


Kids love bicycles.


Late night led us to Harvard Chinese - Steve's default luxury dining experience. We left with no fewer than 50 crab rangoons and one box of (delicious) General Tso's Chicken.

ps: Stale Mike & Ike's make for great Cobra Commander fangs.


Late night crab rangoondizzles. Note JJ's severely ripped crotch.


A rainy ride home foreshadows the Game 4 rain out. Sucks... especially as I'm on a train back to NYC having missed the game.