There’s a guy I know named Bill who happens to be in possession of large amounts of free time. Bill got lucky in life, defying every expectation ever set for him. Now he wanders from one day to the next, a ship across the placid skin of the Pacific, never spying obligation on the horizon.
So when I found myself with a pair of tickets to the Red Sox Friday home opener but with a conflict that keeps me from being there, Bill was my first logical call. He has absolutely nothing else going on.