Took a night off from sports last night. (Well, to be precise, the "night off" began after Tim Wakefield's game-altering pitch to Mike Napoli, but before it cleared the wall in center field for a game-changing three-run homer. Totally saw that one coming.)

Finally watched "Gone Baby Gone" instead. A masterpiece for Ben Affleck (did I just write that?), wholly superior to the "The Departed" . . . and absolutely crushing if you are a parent or Morgan Freeman. Pretty sure I'll never watch it again. And I especially wished I'd stuck with the Sox after realizing I'd missed Daniel Bard's debut.

Oh, well. I'm not missing a sporting thing tonight, what with yet another Bruins/Celtics simultaneous postseason doubleheader. As a matter of fact, I've already drawn up a short list of things I'm hoping to see. Such as . . .

. . . J.J. Redick continuing to shoot like he's still at Duke and a Final Four berth is on the line.

. . . Dwight Howard getting his wish and getting the ball in the clutch. I'm all for a 57 percent free-throw shooter with no offensive game to speak of outside of six feet demanding the rock.

. . . Perk, doing his usual dirty work. Gotta write a full column about him one of those days. He's beast, you know.

. . . Dick Bavetta forgetting which team is playing at home.

. . . Stan Van Gundy's shrill, cliche-ridden, completely uninspired instructions during a timeout.

. . . The "We just have to listen to this guy for two more games, tops" looks on the faces of the Magic players.

. . . More of that dipstick Skip To My Lou. Less of Courtney Lee, who could be the Rodney Stuckey of this series if Van Hedgehog would let him.

. . . Rajon Rondo shaking off his strange recent lethargy and making the Magic pay for daring him to shoot.

. . . The Truth and Shuttlesworth on fire in the same game for once.

. . . Big Baby driving up his price even more with a 20/10 performance. You can bet the Magic fans on the sidelines will be aware of his whereabouts at all times tonight.

If you missed it while enjoying your holiday festivities, this week's OT column is right here. As a bonus, I'm posting here a few of my Boston sports predictions for 2009 that didn't make the cut.

(Yep. I wrote too long. Again. But by only 500 words this time. That's what you call a craftsman's discipline, baby.)

Anyway, I'll be back with an original column Monday -- at last, one in which the names "Teixeira" and "Boras" will not be mentioned. Until then, here are few deleted scenes that left out of the OT original . . .

Feb. 10: With “Justice” written on one fist and “For Cam” on the other, the Bruins’ Milan Lucic pummels 43-year-old Sharks forward Claude Lemieux so brutally that the longtime villain attempts to announce his re-retirement while cowering on the ice. Neely proudly nods his approval from management’s box, while NESN’s Mike Milbury chucks a shoe in Lemieux’s direction for old time’s sake.

May 23: Assuming it’s no different than taking a mid-game leak inside the Green Monster, Manny Ramirez urinates on the sacred monuments beyond the left field wall at Yankee Stadium during the seventh inning of a 21-3 loss to the Phillies. The entire city of New York is aghast. The ghost of Babe Ruth, however, finds it hilarious.

June 10: The Celtics deliver the ultimate indignity to the Lakers in Game 3 of the NBA Finals when Eddie House’s grade-school-aged son, Jalen, blows past Sasha Vujacic for a reverse layup and a foul with 1:22 remaining, giving the Celtics a 133-82 lead. Vujacic retreats to the LA bench, slaps a folding chair, shakes his hand in agony, and immediately bursts into tears. Little House chest bumps his proud pop, then says: “Dad, you told me there was no crying in basketball.”