It's more of a quest, really.

I made my annual trek to see my beloved Red Sox this weekend, and though it's a three and a half hour drive to Arlington (and, I can attest, just as long back again), it was worth it.

I chose center field bleachers which turned out to be an excellent choice - I got to be among the crazies, who immediately took a liking to me and asked me about the Red Sox, what I thought of the Manny deal and did I think the Red Sox would win the Series (they seemed 100% convinced that the Sox are a lock, whereas I remain skeptical. This has to be the first time a Rangers fan has out-believed me, but there it is).

Last time I merely sat back and took the game in, but this time I got to be a bit more involved, hanging out with a crew that knows all the pitchers in the bullpen and shouts helpful advice about how not to suck this time out. The Rangers bullpen, it should be noted, bears this advice with remarkably good grace.

They may have been mild fans of the Red Sox ("We like any team that's not the Yankees" - the baseline principle behind many of my friendships), but the Sox were the opposing team, and so as more and more beer was imbibed, players started getting heckled. The main object of these fans ire was of course the player closest to them, Coco Crisp, the Sox's light-hitting center fielder.

Let me tell you, after nine innings in Arlington, I can now report with certainty that a number of very insulting and occasionally disturbing things rhyme with "CoCo."

Here's video: