The Town

I'd just like to apologize for being so late on my first official post today.

As it happens, I spent most of the day being grilled by the Boston police and FBI bankrobbing expert Jon Hamm.

I have to admit that my previous implication that I had J.D. Martinez batoned at the behest of my security expert, "Jeff Stone," was simply a cover story. My real purpose for being in Boston was indeed to knock off the Fenway Park cash room, working on a plan devised by a criminal florist.

It was a quiet, simple plan involving a mere six SUVs, an ambulance, five police cars, two helicopters, a gang of 30 men armed with automatic rifles and dressed like really ugly nuns, and the back-up line of the Rockettes.

Somehow, this all went wrong, and I would have been toast if it had not been for the heroic sacrifice made by my childhood best friend, David Ortiz, who distracted the police by covering the sun with his head.

I was able to make my own escape cleverly disguised as Yaz, chain-smoking and muttering incessantly about how I made the last out in the epic seasons of 1967, 1975, and 1978.

That said, I am happy to report that the Yankees knocked another point off Soccer's commanding lead today, albeit with a Times piece that managed to bury the lede, throwing in at the end of an interminable article about Russell Wilson that, huh, Clint Frazier suffered a concussion by running into walls repeatedly.  Oy.

Anyway, that puts it at Soccer 27, Yanks 15 for the year, BUT...the Yanks nearly clinching February with a 14-12 advantage.  Get better, Red Thunder!