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Here I am in New Bern airport in NC, scrambling to be diligent about recapping. (I know, I know. The last two were a litttttle late, but given the choice between Bocce with Pete or Yankees, I'm gonna take the former every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Even though I bitch and moan about DVR, it's quite a blessing. And by blessing I mean, fantastic institutions of technology that effectively guarantees my I never reach double digits in time logged sleeping per week.)

I have approximately 0% interest in the Masters. Not only is golf as exciting as watching grass grow, but I still harbor some ill will towards it after my ride from the hospital post-ACL surgery bailed because he was watching the "greatest sporting event of the year."

I do like the music played in the Masters though. The nice piano numbers that remind of hotels with baby grands in the lobbies.

More importantly. however, is the fact the Yanks won today, taking 2 out of 3 in Tampa, and finishing up their 6 game road trip and FINALLY heading home.

We got Good AJ today, who went 7 strong innings, walking 3, whiffing 1. He got out of a jam in the 6th when he walked the bases loaded. He's pretty good at escaping jams. I'm not sure if that claim is actually true, but since I'm an unapologetic AJ supporter, I'm going to sign off on that anyway.

Joba gave up a run, but no one's perfect (see how I'm warming to him?? You know what I'd be saying last year about him had he let up a triple to Crawford? Probably something along the lines of that old Jack Handy line of leaving a pumpkin on someone's stoop with a knife through it and a sign that says "you." You know, something pithy and rational like that.)

Mo came in in a non-save situation which doesn't nothing for a my fantasy team but some things for my mood, since I love Mo. I also love how Girardi doesn't want to make CC pitch more than 111 pitches because he's soooo super pitch count conscious but throws in Mo in non-save situations 2 days before we play against the Angels.

Offensively speaking, well, that Big Game James is ok and all but I have a feeling his days are numbered. He was my sister's big sleeper a few years ago, but he's like the Fausto Carmona or Ian Snell ilk. Let's give it up. Sleepers wake up after a while. He got staked to an early 2-0 lead, and pitched 6 innings, striking out 5, before handing over the 2-1 lead to Choate.

Choate not really having the best week. He's seen 9 batters in the last 2 games. 7 of them hit off him. And today, he promptly gives up a ding to Posada upon entering game.

The Yanks didn't shut up from there. Final: 7-3. Everyone got a hit except for Gardner, Winn (who cares), and Tex who also didn't have the greatest day. He celebrated his 30th bday with 3 strikeouts. Which I suppose makes sense: Three 0's. Hmpf. As if turning 30 isn't traumatic enough.

So now I'm in the Charlotte airport, about to board the plane that takes me back to NYC and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more than a little sad about this.

I spent the past 3 days eating better than I probably ever have in my life, thanks to my buddy the wizard chef.

And my blood pressure probably plummeted to actually healthy levels, thanks to lying on the beach and passing day time hours drinking and listening to Masters music.

And I probably had more fun than I've had in months, thanks to the fact that my buddy inexplicably owned a miner's headlamp, and I inexplicably had brought my own miner's headlamp with me. What's more fun than walking around a marina with headlamps on a Friday night? Not a damn lot.

HOWEVAH, in less than a week from today, the south comes to the Bronx, when NY will proudly host the arrival of Miss Krista. And the crew will visit Greatness's New Home and live the dream. That thought is actually the only thing cheering me up about going home.

But before that awesomeness commences, we got OPENING DAY AT THE STADIUM. Which means.... RINGS! Sorry, Anaheim.


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