Some highlights from watching yesterday's Red Sox game with my 72-year old father:

(When Yankees pitcher Chien-Ming Wang takes the mound)
Dad: What's this guy's name?
Me: Chien-Ming Wang.
Dad: Jin Jin Jong?
Me: Chien-Ming Wang.
Dad: T. J. Long?
Me: (pause) Yes. His name is T. J. Long.
Dad: I guess I keep getting it Wong.
(He laughs for about 35 minutes.)

(Upon looking at the face of Julian Tavarez):
Dad: Ahhh... skin cancer.

(After the Red Sox win)
Dad: The bookies must have decided it was Boston's turn to win.
Me: I really don't think baseball is fixed, Dad.
Dad: All they have to do is throw a few thousand bucks to the pitcher to lose.
Me: You mean that pitcher that's making tens of millions to win?
Dad: (to the dog sleeping on my lap) Bite him! Attack! Take him down!
(The dog lifts his head for a moment and then goes back to sleep on my lap).
Dad: You ungrateful little hoor.
Me: Are you talking to me or the dog?

It's truly a game within a game when watching with my dad.