Some Things Just Make Absolutely No Sense.

I’m in Seattle now, to see three games between the Red Sox and the Seattle Mariners and to enjoy this marvelous city (as long as it’s not raining, which, according to the locals, narrows things down to June, July and August).

In contrast to the dismal experience that is the Oakland Coliseum, Safeco Field where the Mariner’s play is a delight for the fans. (By the way, the railroad tracks run right behind the exterior right-centerfield walls of Safeco Field. You hear train whistles throughout the games.) That said, there is nothing that can compare to the overall experience of seeing the Red Sox play at home in Fenway Park.

Friday night’s game was a good one – the Sox winning a 2-1 squeaker – but I must relate something about the guy sitting next to me. First of all, he was big, at least 300 pounds, and I had to twist in my seat to accommodate his overlap into my space.

But tell me: Why would someone who paid $65 for a very good seat spend most of the time staring at a cell phone in his lap, sending and receiving text messages? Every so often, usually triggered by a loud crowd reaction, this oaf would look up, scan the field, then turn to his friend and say, “What happened?”

I admit to having no personal knowledge of the texting phenomenon because I don’t do it and never intend to do it. But it certainly appears to me that 99 percent of the messages flying back and forth through the ozone have little or no real importance. One more useless – not to mention, expensive – activity that seems to have become essential to today’s generation.

Jeez … I’m sounding like my dad, who was equally scornful when I bought the latest and greatest electronic extravagance back in my day: a hi-fi set.