When Pedro Martinez walked off the mound in the eighth inning with the game tied, I knew the Red Sox were going to lose. There went the best pitcher in baseball, succumbing like so many Red Sox who have gone before to the Curse of the Great Bambino, this time in the very House that Ruth Built. What a game.

Visited with my Dad (and mom) tonight. Had many laughs with my Dad and hopefully cheered him up a little. It's good I got there when I did. My mother was feeding him dinner, and had that irritated look on her face. She was mad at him for leaning over too far, making it difficult for her to feed him (he winked at me once as he did it). He said she had just threatened to walk out of there and go home unless he stopped it. He didn't stop, and she didn't go home.