Half way there.

*Image courtesy of the always awesome Kelly O and www.sittingstill.net*

The All-Star break is upon us, the Red Sox have 51 wins and somehow have managed to stay within striking distance of the Rays and Yankees while fielding the equivalent of a AAA team with enough injuries to convince me that somewhere in New York there is some voodoo doctor with a Jobu doll in a Boston cap and an endless supply of push pins.

So for the next 4 days there will be no baseball. Sure, I'll watch the HR Derby (only with the way things are going I'm half way convinced Papi will watch his right arm fly into the outfield seats along with one of his moon shots tomorrow night) and I'll watch the All-Star Game Tuesday night, but for all intent and purposes real baseball won't happen until Thursday night at Fenway when the Rangers come to town.

Looks like I'll be updating my coin collection, re-sorting my sock drawer and, God help me, actually talking to my wife for the next 3 nights.

Here's to everyone who is hurt in the dugout right now getting better, Joe Girardi losing the game thanks to one of his dim witted roster moves, and Jeter and Cano running full speed into each other while trying to catch a pop fly off the bat of Albert Pujols who then would step on both of them while he rounds his way into third.

Hey. A guy can dream.