Reasons it's taken me nearly a week to post pictures from last Monday:

• I procrastinate.
• I had better- er, I mean other- things to do.
• Blogger Images is a bitch. She likes to tease me. There is no rhyme or reason to making her work.
• I took so many terrible shots that it took me this long to sort through and find some that are worth posting.

That last reason is the kicker. If you want some real may-as-well-be-professional pics from the Sox-Yankees series, see Samara. She has a real camera and real skills (not to mention real good seats); all I got is heart.

"Hey, it's those bloggers, Reb & Jere!"

Keith laughs it up as he schemes his Billy Wagner impersonation

The Evil Empire requires flexibility of head, in addition to heart & soul.

Johnny's still trying to figure out their bizarre rituals.

In the foreground, you can see what Johnny's supposed to be doing here.

It seems like everyone's staring at Damon's butterfly.

Sorry if this is too much JD for you people; mostly it's for my readers Novy & Jtt.

Mike Myers begs his former teammate for mercy in their next match-up.

(Head left intentionally in foreground for added creepiness)

Manny comforts Johnny as they remember the good ol' days.

Arod fondles himself as he admires some real clutch hitters.

Manny gives Cano some "advice".

No one wanted to be with Bernie. Dude was alone wherever he went.

The Jerky Boys

Kapstein and Torre shake hands, agreeing that Damon should play as much as possible this next month. Jere has his photo taken with them to remember this auspicious moment.

Hazel turned and held this pose until just after I lowered my camera, indicating a successful shot. I'm pretty sure this was intentional, and quite considerate of her.

Torre literally dragged Arod over here for this picture.

Which arachnid-clad being pictured here is most obviously a Fenway Park employee?

At this point I parted ways with Jere, figuring my friend would arrive soon and I should grab myself a sausage and beer while I waited. Sure enough, the moment I stepped onto Yawkey way, I heard from her... But she was not nearly at the park. I tried to find Jere again, but no such luck. After waiting around for awhile near his seats with WCSG, I decided to check out a certain season ticket holder we know. I had never been to Andrew's seats before, but I managed to find him. I sat and chatted with him and his dad through the middle of the first, when I got bumped by people who had rights to the seat.

This time I found Jere and WCSG, who happened to have two empty seats next to them in section 23. I sat with them while awaiting my friend. She had gotten caught in traffic, arrived at fens so late that she couldn't find parking, drove home and took the T in from Brookline Hills. An otherwise sharp Schill labored through the top of the third while I was gone to pass Christin's ticket over at Gate A.

We ended up sitting in section 23 the whole time, as no one ever showed up for those seats. (Our seats were in section 43, right next to the red fence- Jere's seats, actually, which he gave me the crack at when he got the chance at these better seats.)

These guys sat in front of us during the game. Pictured on the right is Steve, one of the most gracious Yankee fans I have ever met. I am sad to say, for a fanbase seemingly obsessed with "class", that is not saying much. So maybe I should just say he was a nice guy and seemed to enjoy his visit to Fenway, despite the ugly hat.

I arrived back from my seventh-inning bathroom & beer run to find a bigger lead and a wet seat. I ran back to get napkins. "Who spilled beer all over my seat?" I asked as I wiped it off. A girl turned to me from the seat just to my right. She wore a satin navy jacket. "That guy," pointing to an enthusiastic but generally harmless fan who had been letting us climb over his seat throughout the game. "He threw beer at me," she pouted. I just stared at her. "That's nothing," I told her, "compared to what I saw at Yankee Stadium two weeks ago." She quickly turned away, so I did not bother going into it further. Seeing as a couple in their sixties had been sitting there most of the game, they were obviously crossing some lines by sitting in seats they were not entitled to, and who knows what they said to create trouble. Sorry, but I have no sympathy. I went to Yankee Stadium, I kept my mouth shut, I sat in my own seats, and I came away with dry clothes, just like many MFYF's at Fenway that night, including the ones in front of us.

My friend Christin, aka "Clarissa" of FNX Radio, celebrates victory with me once Keith Foulke finally decides to let us do so.

And of course, this post is dedicated to the lovely and joyful WCSG, whose score of these sweet seats enabled my entrance to the ballpark.

# posted by Rebecca @ 1:51 PM