Home, where David Ortiz pops some reggaetron into his car stereo (''Daddy Yankee," we kid you not, is a reggaetron star) for the ride to the ballpark, and Doug Mirabelli, without fail, stops at Starbucks for a grande nonfat latte.
Home, where Manny Ramirez spends his nights at the Ritz and Curt Schilling sleeps in his own bed in Medfield.
''It's going be good, bro," Ortiz said. ''I like being home."
Home, where Carl Beane tells you to rise and stretch, and Josh Kantor plays some lilting bars on his organ, and ''Sweet Caroline" is sung in the eighth, and Bob Tomaselli, his hair as long as it was when he was a teenager, operates his TV camera beside the home dugout, and Jerry Kapstein, the most familiar face you don't know, sits behind home plate, night after night, in his light blue windbreaker.
Home, the place with the Monster Seats and the El Tiante sandwiches and the fans already camped out on Yawkey Way for standing-room tickets.
Home, where the familiar and the routine converge with the special and the rare to create an atmosphere perhaps like no other.
''It's pretty magical," Johnny Damon said yesterday. ''The fact is, you go out there and play hard and the fans always respect that, they cheer you. They welcome the Red Sox into their homes every single night. You just don't do that. Boston fans, from kids to grandparents and housewives, we're a part of their family. That they welcome us like that is pretty awesome."
Home, where the Red Sox have the best record in baseball (50-24) and a chance to determine their own destiny, tied with the Yankees with seven games to play, with the Indians just a half-game ahead in the wild-card race. The Sox are home for their final seven, the Yankees on the road, with the Bombers arriving Friday for the final three.
''We have a lot of business to tend to," manager Terry Francona said after the Sox took care of the Orioles, 9-3. ''At home, we hope to be a force. We have been, and we expect to. Go play tomorrow."
In seven days, perhaps we will hear echoes of Ned Martin in 1967.
