Park #14

August 30, 2005: Boston, Massachusetts.
Well, I have been a faithful congregant of the church of baseball all my life; I have adamantly followed its traditions and rituals, but have never been touched by the divine words of the baseball gods….that is until today. The deities of baseball have reached down and spoke out to me in a unique way, by showing me the unparalleled and wondrous baseball-Mecca that exists here in Boston, that’s right, Fenway Park. Needless to say, I was blown away by this place. Being there was like having a koala bear crap a rainbow all over my brain. First of all, as you come a half a mile within the park, there is a certain aura in the air that grips your body. I also felt this aura when I was at Wrigley. This aura exists in two forms. First, that every person that is near the park has a certain baseball-laced feeling about them. This is not only in wearing Red Sox apparel and whatnot, but just a sense that smatterings of baseball is present in everyone’s mind and in everyone’s eyes. Secondly, all the buildings and streets around the park have a baseball theme to them (this was also everpresent in Wrigleyville).
As you get to the park, you see the great Boston icons, like the Citgo sign, and the lights that loom over the park, and the green. However, there is also the amazing sight of brick as far as the eye can see. The brick exterior of the park, capped at the top with the green is just an amazing thing to see. Furthermore, there are street vendors selling hot dogs and sausage and all sorts of amazing food that just fills your nostrils with the smell of baseball. We did a lap around the stadium, and I got to see the statue of Ted Williams, which is more than a simple baseball statue. It shows Ted Williams (the greatest hitter EVER) with a small child, signifying the Red Sox ongoing and historical dedication to the Jimmy Fund. I really like this, it’s both baseball and philanthropic. I mean, it isn’t the most exciting pose for a statue, but it has a great message.
Okay, so as you go into the park, you feel like you are entering a baseball carnival. As soon as Doug and I got into the park, we see a small crowd of people gathered around this old man in a Red Sox uniform. Then it hits me, that’s Johnny Pesky. Pesky was a great shortstop for the Sox in the 40s and early 50s. He has to be 80 years old now, and he still shows up for all the games in a Red Sox uniform and signs autographs for fans. I waited a bit for him, but I must have caught the tail end of his session, because he left after a few minutes.
So as I went out to see the field, it only got better. I mean, how do you describe baseball heaven into words? Well, I’ll give it a shot. I do have to admit that the Green Monster looks a lot smaller (and less intimidating) in person. I mean, on TV it looks like this thing could stop an army of German soldiers. Maybe it’s the fact that the installed seats on top of the thing, but it just looks smaller. I don’t know, its still farking awesome. I don’t know what to say, I went all around the stadium taking pictures of the place, and it is just amazing. You stand behind home plate, and you look out into center field and it just looks like it’s a mile away. And the dichotomy behind left field and right is almost laughable. In left, you have the green monster just staring down at hitters, daring them to just attempt to scale the wall with their hits. Then, in right field, you have barrier between the field and the stands that is only waist-high. Could they be any more opposite?
As you may know, most of the seats in the stadium are not set like seats in modern stadiums. Most of the seats are not angled towards the field, but are set in such a way, that you have to turn your entire body just to see the game. Furthermore, the seats in the stadium are either blue or red. Each section is completely blue, or completely red, except one. Out in right field, where most of the section is blue, sits one single red seat. I guess that in the 1940s some Yankees fan was sitting out there and wasn’t paying attention, and Ted Williams pegged the guy in the head with a home run, which was like over 500 feet, so they enshrined that spot by changing the seat to red so it would stand out. Oh, those crazy Bostonians sure do know how to stick it to the Yanks.
Everyone at the stadium (especially me) was worried about whether the game was going to be played or not. It rained all day in Boston and the tarp was still on the field at about 6:25. Neither team hit batting practice, and I was starting to get worried. Then at 6:30 or so, the field staff came on and removed the tarp. There was a ton of water on it, I weighed it……five pounds…...six pounds……seven pounds. Right after the tarp came off it was like the whole stadium woke up; fans starting rushing in, the rain stopped, Schilling came out of the dugout to warm up, it was going to be a great day.
By gametime, the place was jammed. Now, just so you know, the place holds only 35,000 or so, but these Bostoners make it sound like there’s 80,000. Curt Schilling started the game, and did not look good in the beginning. In the first 2 innings, he allowed 5 runs; his splitter wasn’t doing anything and the Devil Rays got like 7 hits, 6 of which went off the Monster. The fans were not happy and they let Schilling hear it. What was truly amazing about the Boston fans is that every single one of them was into the game. Now, I’ve been going to Tribe games for years, including more than my share of games when the Tribe was selling out (we do still hold the record for most consecutive sellouts-455). However, at those games, you had a number of people who really didn’t pay much attention, but only went to the game because it was the cool thing to do. Not true in Beantown my friends, everyone was wading in the velvet sea. Every eye was fixed on that game. I saw a pair of 70 year old women who were focused on the game like the result was going to impact the fate of their lives (and knowing Bostonians, they might have actually believed that). But when Schilling began to falter, one of those sweet old ladies jumped and yelled “Curt you bum, you better learn to pitch”. These fans were ruthless and well-informed, a dangerous combo.
At the end of the second inning, the Devil Rays had a 5-0 lead, and it was looking bleak from the get-go. However, the Sox slowly wittled away at the lead, scoring 2 runs in the 3rd and 2 more in 4th, with a steady diet of singles and doubles. Schilling improved much himself. In the 3rd-6th innings, he allowed no runs, and only 2 hits, looking like the Schilling of last year. In the 7th, they relieved him, and Mike Myers allowed one run. In the bottom of the eighth, down 6-4, Terry Francona made a great move. Johnny Damon was not starting in the game, but Francona decided to let him pinch hit the 8th to lead off. Holy marmalade, when Damon’s name was announced, you should’ve heard that stadium erupt. You would’ve thought John Lennon, Mick Jagger, and James Brown had all run on the field the way this crowd was yelling. These people are crazy over him. Some of the women started fanning themselves and saying “Oh, Johnny Damon, what a dreamboat”, it was pandemonium. Well, Joe Borowski walked Damon, which led to the Red Sox scoring two runs and tying up the ballgame. In the bottom of the ninth, with the score tied, David Ortiz drew a walk, and Manny got a single. What was amazing to watch was Ortiz legging it over to third on the single; he ran like an antelope out of control. I think Veritek walked, and the Sox has bases loaded with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. The next hitter (I want to say Olerud, but I’m not sure) got a hit to win the game. A thunderous eruption bellowed through downtown Boston. It was amazing to watch.
The food was the one thing that didn’t blow my mind. I had me a Fenway Frank, which was nothing special. It was juicy, but the color had definite parallels to the Cincinnati hot dog disaster (the flesh colored hotdog). I just wasn’t impressed. I did however get fried dough, which some of you may know as an Elephant Ear. It was bought for the price of a flagon of rice. I want to know how fried dough got started; was someone sitting around looking at a piece of bread and thinking “this is too healthy” and then decided to fry it? And then did they look at that and think “nope, still too healthy” and then decided to cover it in fried sugar? Well, it had been a few years since I had one of those, and it hit the spot. Also, at the stadium that had a stand that sold “steak tip sandwiches” and “turkey tip sandwiches”, for $9 each. I looked at the steak tips, and they looked tasty, but I didn’t feel like spending $9 on it. I am still confused as to what the hell a “turkey tip” is, anyone know?
Overall, I’m giving Fenway an A, with future considerations for an A+. I am still in awe of the amazingness I saw at that park. It is just baseball heaven. The game was great, the fans were great, the food was adequate, but the stadium itself was just unparalleled by anything I’ve seen yet. The hard part about writing this is that I hate the Red Sox, but I’m trying to be objective.
Well, 14 down, 6 to go. And if you can find all four Phish references in this article, I will be most impressed. Next stop, I’m going to Cape Cod for six days to hang out with my family, then it’s on to Yankee Stadium.
Laz