Poor Paul, we were out for a late dinner and the game was on, behind his head on a big-screen TV. So I kept updating him on the progress, not that he cares even a smidgen about baseball, and then had to explain as the place errupted with that game-ending Dave Ortiz classic. Go, Big Papi! And I even loved him explaining to the eager reporter that he was just doing his job, in a pretty low-key but polite and happy way.