By David Scott
BSMW Columnist

Not your typical Monday offering, thanks to the hospitality afforded us in the TV38 Broadcast Booth on Friday night:

Thank Goodness, It’s Sergeant Friday
You will soon head into the city to start your week, just as the nine-to-fivers leave the city to begin their weekends. That’s because this is your day. And soon this will be your night.
It is Friday. You are Sergeant Friday. And better yet, it is a home-game Friday – only your second of the season. You do your best work on spring and summer Fridays like this. This is your favorite night, the way it is for a Rabbi or a teenager.
It is just 3 p.m. and your Marina Bay chateau is bathed in the warm sunlight of a spectacular day. You have gotten in your run, despite the sore foot the BU trainers are trying to heal for you. You’re happy you ran – the post-game pop or two will be guilt-free now.
You have showered, shaven and chosen the Joseph Abboud suit you will wear, even affixing the American flag lapel pin on the left breast. You can’t choose between the maroon Joseph Abboud tie or the blue Joseph Abboud tie. They are both put on the Joseph Abboud hanger that totes the Joseph Abboud jacket you’ll need (solely) for the game’s open with the RemDog.
You bring the hanger, your new cell-phone, your black leather bag and the aviator sunglasses and you leave calm Quincy for frenzied Fenway. The green, pristine grass is just now being groomed at both places – which somehow means both are home. Sweet home.
It is 4:15 when you wave to the parking guys, having managed a radio spot in Kansas City on the way over. You are radio-friendly during the 10 minute hit – cordial, engaging and to-the-point as you discuss the upcoming Royals’ series, the season – and even, suavely, the Eiffel Tower analogy the new owners have used for pristine Fenway. (You’ll use the Tower line again when you do another hit at the old stomping grounds – for the hard-workers who are treading water at WWZN-1510. You won’t miss being there, in-studio, as you were during your stint in the too-dirty radio underworld, where dumb sells, dumb buys and dumb wins. You did it your way and you did it well, you know that. But it wasn’t you. Not your gig. Not now anyway.)
And when you do get to the park, you’ll wind up thinking about dad. Maybe it’ll be when you see Johnny Pesky and hug him. Or maybe when you check with Dr. Morgan about Mike Port. Or even when you call Ann Port, Mike’s wife, to make sure everyone’s doing okay. Maybe all those times and more, you’ll think of Will McDonough – your dad. The city’s sports legend. It won’t consume you. But you know where you came from. You also know “it’s easier to be nice to people and that it takes energy to be a prick.” You’re very aware of this, in fact.
This is your night – Friday Night – and you live this motto time and again throughout the warm day and the cold eve – pre-game, post-game, with peers and pesky peepers alike. You do it after the game when you take the picture with busty blonde, fellow Syracuse alum at the Baseball Tavern across the street. And later you do it with the guy claiming to be “Sean McAdam’s cousin,” whose wife spies you from the back seat of an SUV, assuredly heading back to the ‘burbs, the baby sitter and the brats.
This is your night because you are Sergeant Friday. And this is the right hand turn you take, just past the framed Ned Martin photo – and the meaning of that photo is not lost on you. Ever.
Your partner, whose been at the park for over an hour, is almost 10 years your senior, but you are kindred spirits in the booth. You “get” each other and play off each other – Sean and Rem, Rem and Sean. Your rapport has been nurtured and fed, and truth be told, if the Sox would get their heads straight, you should be paired together more than just once a week. But that’s a story for another night, one for the dwindling number of legit critics in this town to argue over. But not this night. Not Friday.
This is your night and even if you might not outwardly admit it, you are at the top of your industry. You are capable of doing any sport, but more impressively, you are capable of doing any sport tremendously. With over 50 ESPN exposures and the close to 30 Sox Sabbaths each year, you are busy, but not over-burdened. Could you do more? Of course. Do you need to? Probably not. Basketball with Raf is always great and you get some sweet assignments.
You will 42 this Thursday and both your cellphone and your car read: Mercedes Benz. You count Ben and Matt as friends and Bob Costas comes to your golf tournament, which means, A: you have a golf tournament, and B: you’re getting A-listers to it. Charities are never let down by your generosity and efforts. You golf, you boat and you are a recognizable celebrity in the town you grew up around. You are not complainin’ ‘bout much. How could you?
This is your day and you are Sergeant Friday. Even so, even though it’s your one day at the Fenway Office, you remember to stop in the Control Room, at the end of the press-level hall way. There’s a guy. . . at the gym. . . with a bachelor party. . . and he wants a message on the scoreboard. . . during next weekend’s game. . . and he asked if I could do him a favor? Of course, you could. It took you two minutes and you met some new faces behind the door and put smiles on them. “Easier to be nice to people. . .”
By the time you reach the field for batting practice, you have already “helloed half the entire Sox staff – support and otherwise: from the guy with three cases of beer on his cart to the poor gentleman who has been toting around paper products for the concession stands - in addition to his saran-wrapped, soggifying ham sandwich. “Eat that sandwich,” you instruct him, handling elevator button duties to the concourse level.
You poke your head into the clubhouse and just to the left is a familiar face. You small-talk an update out of the club’s enigmatic shortstop. . .and a smile. . .and a nod. You drop off the VHS tape you promised Mike Timlin and his Marathon-running wife (of the feature from the ESPN telecast you recently did). You meet a cop’s son, you pop into the press-gate window, you drop a self-effacing comment here and a How-are-you there. Menino would be wiped away if you ever wanted to run this town. “No,” you smile, “I like Tom.”
You emerge from the dugout, you shake hands, you nod, you point in the stands and you hear your name yelled. You might have even kissed babies. You definitely – definitely – got tapped on the back by Wally the Green Monster as he came down from behind home plate. And you definitely - definitely - turned, looked up and said: “Hey, Wally.”
You even make the damn mascot feel human.
You roam from the home side to Royals’ side and you cull nuggets for the telecast. It’s not heavy lifting, but it is work. In 45 minutes you load up on enough ammo for a blowout or a five-run-in-two-innings explosion. You jot some notes in the “Big East 25th Anniversary” notepad, you gab with the early-arriving ladies who scream: “Tell Jerry to stay away from the camera,” and you say of Pesky, after your embrace: “I’m the only guy Johnny Pesky couldn’t teach to hit. I was four years old and he says to me, ‘Go get a microphone and get outta here.’”
This is your night – Friday night – and this is game time. Your blue ink pen has exploded, but you have persevered and breezed through a one-take, taped open with Remy. It’s 25 minutes before first pitch and you have arranged “league leaders” and other mishigas on your hanging cork board to the left of your seat. You’ve Scotch-taped and highlighted and underlined and circled and you’ve opened the Big East notebook to the research and notes for tonight’s game.
In the intro, you welcome the viewers to “a gorgeous night in America’s greatest city” and the next three hours flow almost flawlessly from there. There’s banter, there’s news, there’s levity. You cherish the quick inning and you question the home side’s skipper on air and off. You cringe when the second baseman brain-farts, but your voice doesn’t waver, your authority never fades. They’ve never called you a homer, and they should always call you balanced. You’re smart, not smug. You’re a pro with every utterance and a master of letting the pictures tell the story.
You absolutely nail the Bellhorn homer to tie it: “Way back in the corner!. . . and GONE! – It’s a tie game”; and you deliver again, rising from your seat to track the ball into the corner on Jason Varitek’s game-winner: “. . . hopefully the fans will leave it alone. . . .Manny is. . . SAFE. . . and the Red Sox win!”
You do the wrap, you plug next Friday’s game from Toronto and you throw it to Sara and Ted and pack up your pens, the Scotch tape and your media guides.
You are parched, you are invigorated and you are also the social chairman, because it is Friday night, your night. You make some calls, you check some messages and you head out past the framed Ned Martin photo on your left, down the elevator and out onto Yawkey Way.
This is your night and you are Sergeant Friday.

TV38 Special:
Herewith, the 38 things I discovered deep, deep behind the scenes in the Red Sox WSBK-TV38 Booth on Friday evening.

Andy Hall, and (WRS)
1. On the rare occasions when RemDog would leave Little Wally alone in his Adirondack chair, the little bean bag sang like a bird. His revelations are embedded within. (TRACK GALS - PAY ATTENTION: Joseph Abboud is currently at work on a fantastic ‘lil number for ‘Lil Wally. The patterns will be used just this once for the little guy and then destroyed by Abboud himself.
2. The home team’s Broadcast Booth Babe has a name.
3. The visiting booth Broadcast Babe, however remains nameless. I’m efforting the information through various sources. We exchanged glances on several early-inning occurrences. I was feeling her vibe. Or that could have been the headset I plugged into the electrical socket.
4. RemDog’s a Marlboro Red guy. Who knew?
5. Bob Qua, the audio guy, managed to do what appeared to be approximately 30 years of expenses AND keep everyone’s batteries fresh – during the nine innings.
6. Qua, by the way, is the brother of My Buddy Sid from Connecticut’s buddy, Jason. Jason holds the honor of being the first white man I ever heard say, convincingly: “That’s high schooooooooollllllllll!” True story.
7. Leo the Stats Guy doesn’t miss a thing. Credit him with the temperature drop (20 degrees from first pitch to last) and wind speed nuggets. Those conditions all came from the famed AWS WeatherNet contraption that was violated like a hotel mini-bar by a gentleman with lock-picking tools. Another true story.
8. Highlight of the early innings – a booth visit by Smiling Jim Corsi.
9. Firefly’s provided a cucumber salad that didn’t stand a chance with me in attendance. The rest of the Phantom Gourmet-sponsored grub went down when McDonough’s football friends from Delaware sniffed out the Styrofoam containers. (Just FYI, RemDog, it was those guys that ate the “JR”-marked box. Wasn’t me. So, we still cool, right?)
10. McDonough does a mean Harry Carey.
11. Remy does an awful “All My Lovin’,” even with the lovely ladies’ vocals’ accompaniment.
12. Best hand-made sign on the far booth wall: “Game slowing down? Banter up!” Cowboy Up Millar should get royalties on that as well.
13. ‘Lil Wally confirmed he was, in fact, involved in the BALCO investigation, as reported in this space last week. “But the check they had was from my account, without my actual signature,” said ‘LilWal. “I feel Marion Jones’s pain.”
14. A real life camera man praised Remy’s much-discussed work from Cleveland, explaining: “You were basically learning to drive a car on a manual transmission instead of an automatic. You did all right.” It seems the hand crank is old-school – like rotary dial.
15. The most humiliating broadcast booth photo of McDonough is dated “August 16, 1987.” “Look at my comb over, there,” he laughed. It was also a very non-Joseph Abboud tie. Archie Bunker, perhaps.
16. Remy’s most humiliating broadcast booth photo is of him on a faux corduroy coach with his knee completely wrapped up.
17. Highlight of the middle innings – a booth visit from the kind folks at Dunkin’ Donuts who left iced coffee, donuts and munchkins.
18. McDonough wanted hot coffee. I was quite happy with the iced, thanks to Julie Tretiak, the Broadcast Booth babe’s true identity. (You deserve to know if you’ve read 18 of these items.)
19. The blue Miata squad car sent over by Boston Sports Media did not exactly please Sgt. Friday, especially when he attempted his KC radio spot while travelling over pot holes and bumps that rocked the little Ken Doll car to and fro. TV guys can be so fussy.
20. You don’t think I can get to 38, do you?
21. You may be right.
22. The definitive McDonough/Remy story from May 22, 2001 is gaffer-taped to the supply closet door. Jim Baker should be honored.
23. Imagine if this very piece gets printed and hung next to the Baker piece. It’d be like living next to the Mona Lisa. A boy can dream. . .
24. RemDog would just assume a $.19-cent Bic to any of the fancy PaperMates. He keeps it pretty real, I’d say.
25. Right about here, I’m wishing the games were still on FOX25.
26. But I’m thankful they’re off BU68.
27. ‘LilWal attributes his weight fluctuation to the Atkins Diet RemDog has allegedly forced upon him. “The guy has me eating no carbs at all,” ‘LilWal confided in Scott’s Shots. “Do you think you could get me a Fenway Frank on the sly?”
28. McDonough’s props to me during the top of the 4th was miraculously spared for the TV38 re-broadcast, late-night. I finally made a director’s cut! That was a Big Thrill. Thanks, Russ Kenn – good to meet you. (Also sharing booth space were the McDonough guests from the I-AA National Champion, Ass-Kickin’ Chickens from Delaware: Walter Payton Award- winner QB Andy Hall, two of his targets, High and Low - 6-foot-4, TE Jesse O’Neill and 5-foot-10 wideout, Joe Bleymaier. Hall went in the sixth round to Philadelphia and seems to have a good shot at making the club, according to a McDonough source at the Eagles. Bleymaier is the son of Boise State AD, Gene Bleymaier and O’Neill hails from former Celt Mike James’s New York hometown: Amityville. Which allows at least one Amityville Horror reference from this space. Thank you.
29. McDonough chatted briefly with Friday night home-plate ump, Joe West, as Big Blue entered the Fenway gate pre-game. He later gave West credit on-air for a solid night behind the dish. That’s symmetry.
30. Sox PA voice, Carl Beane used to be a legend at UMass during the Calipari days, because he his own special courtside Bat phone for delivering in-game reports.
31. Pre-game, near the third-base dugout, Tony Pena gave one soft hug to Johnny Pesky and one big hug to Nick Cafardo.
32. And no one hugged me. Not even the visiting team’s Broadcast Booth Babe.
33. I dutifully looked for any stray Cleveland Radio Guys hiding in the media bathroom stalls at. It was all clear and no violence was reported with KC radio morons.
34. My Man manning the soda station in the working press section knew I was on half iced-tea/half lemonade by the second inning. He was tipped accordingly.
35. Sox historian Dick Bresciani is still one of my favorite, all-time UMass guys. We bled some maroon and white during BP.
36. Sox employee Steve Meterparel (dad of WEEI’s Jon) was working McDonough over pre-game for a fantasy league trade, but McDonough was playing Pedro-like hardball. Neither have ever won the league in 11 years of play, leading to the logical conclusion that the game is fixed.
37. Highlight of the latter innings – the 27 mile wind gusts and the rapid temperature drop captured degree by degree, mile by mile by the high-tech AWS WeatherNet station.
38. LilWal will not discuss his contract situation until after the season. Although he did say this: “RemDog has always been fair with me. I just want my fair market value. I’ve got a bunch of little Wallies to feed.” Reminded that Ty Law had said similar things, LilWal said “Ty’s my man.” Oy vey.

Sunday Night Shows
Someone needs to explain the relevance of having Twins Enterprises’ VP, Eddie Miller as an in-studio guest with Babbling Bob Lobel on CBS4’s Sports Final. Miller, from what I could gather, was on because he’s a close, personal friend of Roger Clemens. Okay. And this is relevant to the Clemens 6-0 start in Houston, how? Is there a t-shirt for sale at Twins? How random. Bob Ryan’s look at Clemens was, at least, unbiased and informative. And interestingly, Ryan took Pedro over Roger in a must-win, one game scenario, TODAY. Ryan said he’d take Schilling over both, TODAY. Personally, I’d go Rocket over Pedro and Schilling over Rocket, TODAY. . .Here’s how NBC7 can resolve its Sunday Night problem: re-name the show SportsNixtra, let Joe Amorosino do his Tito interview and keep Nix in-studio, on-camera. Once again, she was the lone highlight of the painful 40 minutes on 4. Nix provided a nice package with Theo, even managing a mom connection that merited a “Brady Bunch” movie snippet. More revealing (and hardly touched by Amoron and lonely without Holley studio guest Danny Boy) was Theo’s piece-ending quote regarding the team’s stated policy of not negotiating during the season. “Someone has to live up to their word,” about keeping quiet during the season, Theo said. . . Eddie Andelman also got promotional time on Sports Final for his Hit Dog Hot Dog Safari ’04 . Which is surely a better cause than the Twins t-shirt emporium. . . Bobble-head Bobby Lob then tried his “put you to sleep with a smile on your face” schtick again. How does he continue on the air in this market? How?. . . I’m not a reality show guy, per se, but here’s what I can gather after 7 minutes of CBS4 viewing last night from 10 to 10:07: Survivor has merged tribes with The Bachelor, Boston Bob has been fired from The Apprentice because he’s marrying Amber and Jeff Probst needs to be eliminated. . . The best thing about this season of The Sopranos has been the per-week soundtrack. Otherwise, it’s proving it “jumped the shark” when Big Pussy went down. There’s no way the FCC would allow that sentence on Howard Stern. . . Nor should they. . . This just in – Chris Berman had no freaking idea what Stuart Scott was saying for the first 30 minutes of last night’s SportsCenter re-appearance. The rest of America had trouble with Scott for the entire show. Now back to more Scott’s Shots. . . Berman signed off with: “I’m Chris Berman, I’m old.” Love that.

Rawhide
Buzz has been heard that Gordon Edes is very interested in sliding to the columnist slot if the Globe does the right thing and fills Holley’s spot. Another rumor being floated is that the Green Boxes will change the spot into a take-out/enterprise writer position, which might could be reasonable compromise that also makes more monetary sense. . . NESN’s pre-game on Saturday had a segment with (supposed) comedian Jimmy Dunn. Put it this way, Sam Horn’s a lot funnier, which is too absurd to believe. I got a funny guy for you, NESN – his name is Gary Gulman – check him out. Good Peabody dude and funny as anyone who’s ever come through Nick’s Comedy Stop. . .NESN’s bubbly Krisily Kennedy introduced me (and really all the pre-game viewers) to her mom yesterday. I think this means we’re getting serious. Will RemDog be giving her away in the NESN studio?

Trending
Jordan’s Furniture’s latest offering of a Trumpesque boardroom is New England TV Commercial Hall of Fame material. They still do the best local ads of any company – not that the bagel schmo and Bernie and Phyl are much competition, these days. Left on Spitbrook, Right on Daniel Webster.

Hoops
I could have sworn that was Sam Cassell winning the game for Minnesota on ESPN Saturday night. But Sam Cassell would be what, 89 if her were still playing?. . . Jim Gray had this for Cassell right after the win: “Was this your entire season in the last four minutes?” Gray asked. With a pause, knowing it salvaged a split at home for Minny, Casell said: “Yes, it was.” That’s simple, yet compelling. It’s also another reason why Gray is so underrated and oft-maligned.

Pokey for VP
The Kerry/Pokey ’04 ticket launched its regional campaign on Saturday with the well-designed “in-the-parker/out-the-parker” kick-off party. James Carville wanted to do this thing with Pokey and the hokey-pokey and some red-neck garbage. I just said, listen: You’re a man of the people, Pokester. You can do it the hard way and the easy way. Let’s show ‘em both.
Pokey knows good politicking when he hears it, so he green-lighted my idea late Friday night and implemented it to perfection the next day. Carville is reportedly considering defecting from Camp KP ’04 . “It’s the hokey-pokey, stupid,” he muttered into his spittoon, upon leaving the bar Friday eve.

Pigskin
The Pats visit DC today and with a defense department opening on the horizon, Bill Belichick might not be coming back to the Foxboro bunker for quite some time.

Rants and Raves
So Avril Lavigne is Snoop Dog’s daughter? Or am I confused?. . . I think Snoop is a better actor than any of the bozos on “Friends,” and I know that for sure now. . .Why does Tina Fey get to wear slippers to work? Oh – that’s right. I do too. . . If you didn’t see Saturday Night Live, each of those three lines made less sense than the Pokey political stuff. . . I’ve been asked to be less political by one weary reader, but I do have to ask this: Why, oh freakin’ why, do you take pictures and roll video when you’re abusing the prisoners. Why?

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David Scott lives in a seaside shanty on the shores of Hull and can be reached at david@bostonsportsmedia.com