I remember everything about that day. I remember being picked up early in the morning by my uncle, Jimmy. I remember the long trip down to Boston, which became longer when Jimmy's GPS device ran out of batteries, and we made a couple of wrong turns. I remember when we missed the exit, and wound up going into downtown Boston, instead of going to a nearby subway station.

We were expecting a lot of traffic because of the Democratic National Convention, but so was everyone else, it seemed, so they all avoided it-- leaving the streets nearly empty. We (Jimmy and I) walked a few blocks and took a subway to the game. After buying two Italian Sausages, we made our way into the ballpark.

"Okay, I paid one hundred and fifty dollars each for these seats, so they better be good," Jimmy said. "This guy better not...