Some strikes. Some balls.
Players will spit, scratch, and spit some more.
Fans will cheer, will boo, will make wacky signs.
Remy and D-O will giggle.
Johnny Damon will laugh while standing in the batter's box.
Tito will rock back and forth and adjust his cap ad nauseum.
JD Drew will probably suck....or maybe not.
My wife will swear at Dice-K, comment on how ugly Youk is, drool over Teks thighs, make fun of Coco's hair, quietly appreciate the wonder that is Mike Lowell, and possibly pump her fist if Papi wins the game.
Birthday boy David J. will pace my neighborhood, curse out Francona, and shake his head when Tek grounds into an inning ending double play.
A-Rod will get drilled. Twice. Benches will clear.
Manny will make some kinda dramatic return. Or maybe have a new hair style. The Vegas line is 5 to 2 on the new hairstyle.
Sox will win only one of the three games. Yanks will win the first game with a dramatic late inning comeback. I will vomit in my mouth and still taste it in the morning. Sox should easily win the second game...they might even send Posada to the hospital after the game. You know, for tests. The third game the Sox will start to feel sorry for The Yankees and let them win (in a close one)...build up their confidence for the upcoming spanking by the Angels in the playoffs.
And that my friends is my weekend.