Got to the Monster line early--you know that guy who always tells the "no BP, they're hungover" joke? Well, he also is in charge of checking bags. Yet he never notices my camera bag. It's at the point where I hold it up, eye level, and watch him ignore it every single time. Not that I care, it's just funny. I looked at his nametag this time. I swear this is true: his name is "TJ". Above, Beckett and Dice. Click to enlarge if you choose.

Got no BP balls, partly since there were these special groups in the stands early. Above, Papelbon throwing in the 'pen.

The Marlins bat boy gets his "name" on his back. Florida's BP was so national league. They don't just do a token bunt like us, they do an entire bunt-only at bat first, then when everyone in the group has bunted, they start swinging. But not for the fences like Kevin Millar. They seem to practice slapping singles to the opposite field, then to center, etc., before ever trying to actually wail the ball. Everybody in BP is supposed to go up the middle/opposite field, but the Marlins do it in a much more regimented way.

Before heading up to the 3rd base pavilion, I stopped at the right field roof boxes and got this odd Pru shot.

The view from my spot--pretty much the perfect spot up there.

Looking left, you can see outside the park on the left and the field on the right.

View of LF from my spot.

I noticed recently on TV that the Sox bench seems to be padded now. Here it is.

Brad Penny wins the Ass Lottery.

You can see the 500 on the field, with Papi out there. I hadn't thought about the fact that this would be the 500th consecutive sellout since the offseason. I was talking to my pal Dori (who, like me, went to the 456th consecutive sellout which broke the all-time record) and saying how I figured out what date the 500th would be, and how I felt like I'd probably have that game in my 10-game plan, since it was an interleague Wednesday. Sure enough, I had that game. And this was it.

Two planes over the Something Building.

Papi points to the press box in a pre-game ceremony.

Rocco and Cantu.

Hanley and, again, Cantu.

Three generations of Sox fans threw out the first ball(s). The 100-year old man was about the size of the little boy.

Youk at first--game underway.

The 500 in the outfield again. They had giveaways to entire sections of the crowd all night long.

Including the weirdest one: free tape measures!

Careful, you'll put an eye out! Don't believe me? Check out the bottom right....

See!?

Pedroia with a hit to make it 4-1 Sox.

Night has fallen on Boston.

More 500 stuff.

The moment of Citgo's cycle when it flashes and only the name is lit up.

Have you noticed that many of the numbers in the 60s on the board are very brown with dirt? No? Oh.

I felt like Ellsbury was gonna hit a dong on one at bat. He didn't. But he did the next time up. Here he's congratulated and whatnot.

The Yanks were down 3-1, going bottom 9. There was a nervous moment when the 1 came out, but it was replaced by a 2. But the 9 stayed, so we knew the game wasn't over yet. After a long wait I decided I'd will the 9 to leave, signifying the end of the game, by training my lens on it, and seeing if I could get a shot of it coming out. Before I could raise the camera, the 9 came out! So I took this pic seconds after. Yanks lose.

Papi on third base.

Dustin singles again to add an insurance run....

...but Varitek is thrown out at the plate. Check out Papi and the bat boy telling him to slide. He didn't listen.

Pap got the last three outs, after three others in our pen pitched scoreless frames. It was a really comfy night with no wind and high 60s. And the people around me were totally great, even the group from Milwaukee right next to me, despite that their leader was misleading his friend and their wives with incorrect facts. See bonus section below.

But first, some other random shots I've taken lately:

Fireworks outside our window, as Kim looks out.

Amazing Larry goes after some string.

And for my friend at the Bookworm in West Hartford, who says she's never seen Tim Wakefield without a hat.

Bonus section: The Milwaukee know-it-none. This dude spoke deliberately, and with an upper midwest accent--think of Max Cherry in Jackie Brown. Listen to some of these quotes. After the first one, I just thought to myself, "Okay, if they ask me for info, I'll gladly give it to them. If not, I'm gonna enjoy this, because this guy is on fire. Meaning, on ice."

See that "420" there? They call that the "short porch" and Carl Yastrzemski used to hit balls there.

Ball hit to the 379 mark (420 mark clearly visible to the right of it): Oh, to the deepest part of the park!

I can't see the foot marker in the left field corner but I see the '379' and it can't be too much farther than that.

Well it's 380 out there, but right down the line is very short! Has to be about 240.

Retired numbers, let's see...42 is Jackie Robinson and 9 is Carl Yastrzemski. (He had no guess on the others.)

I don't expect people to know everything. But it always makes me laugh when someone comes out acting like he knows everything, but proceeds to get every single thing wrong. Again, they were nice people, and I was very happy to have them over drunk college kids. At least this guy was only trying to impress people in his own group.