Here’s a snapshot of my pops and me and Fenway during Daisuke’s first complete game shutout, against the Tigers in ’07.

When I walked into the lobby, four or five young employees were crammed behind a desk, loudly scheduling appointments.  I felt like they were going to push me through their system and send me home, dissatisfied.  But they didn’t.  Down a short hallway, the pace slowed, and the noise faded.  I took off my sandals and entered a dark room, where I sensed there were several people being very quiet. They were hidden by drapes, in small massage chambers.  Without saying a word, my masseuse led me to one, and gestured that I should disrobe and put on giant pajama shorts.  I did.  Eventually she came back and asked me, “Medium or hard?”  I meant business, so I chose hard.  It took me at least 15 minutes to figure out that she was mostly massaging me with the heels of her feet, as she balanced herself with fabric hanging from the ceiling.  It was an intense and effective session.  I felt much better.  Ready to start playing racquetball again.

Here are me and my lawyer/homeboy Jojims at the Y.

serious color correction and masks in Photoshop

Notice which of us leaves in disgrace.

Poor Jojims.

…and which one is the undisputed champ!

Master of all sports: PCB