“The Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees renew one of the greatest rivalries in sports this afternoon, but the focus will be on the ballpark, as Fenway Park celebrates its 100th anniversary … Today’s matchup is the same as the one that christened the stadium 100 years ago to the day … both teams will be wearing replicas of the uniforms they wore in that inaugural game.”
I’m not a big baseball fan; the games are too long and 9-times-out-of-10 you end up squinting and frying in the stands under the sun. … But, it turns out, Fenway Park is a whole nother ballgame.
Two summers ago, one of my daughters was doing an internship in Boston. Being the dutiful mother that I am, I went along on the move-in trip to help trouble-shoot, schlep, chat, eat, and generally have a grand old mother daughter bonding time. So, after most of the heavy lifting was done, daughter and I began knocking around Beantown … “Isn’t that a neat building?” … “Look at those goofy boats shaped like ducks!” … “Check out that preppy guy … “ … Then, “Hey, what’s going on over there? What are all those people lined up for??”
With nothing more pressing to do, we meandered over to see what was up, and finally noted that the line was winding around the outside walls of a big green structure in the middle of the city there. Then it dawned on us that this must be that baseball field …. “What is the name of it? … Oh, yes, Fenway. This was that Fenway Park that everybody is always talking about.”
We hesitated on the curb to soak in the sights and sounds around us. These people were all fired up … just standing there was an experience. We decided to stick around and be a part of the action, and then we decided as long as we were there, we may as well go to the baseball game. We could enjoy a nice cold beer and a dome dawg and call it a day.
So, we waited in line … and waited … and waited … and waited. We chatted with the folks ahead of us in line and we chatted with the folks behind us in line. We started to speculate with our new friends as to whether we would actually get into the game, or if it would be sold out by the time we got to wherever the front of the line was.
We waited some more and waited some more. Eventually, we could hear the unmistakable sounds of bats hitting baseballs, fans cheering and the general commotion of an event happening on the other side of the wall.
Rats. The fence near the front of the line had closed. No baseball game for us that day.
But, for some reason, we didn’t leave. We just stood there in our spot in line, people watching and thinking about thinking about what we should do next —- when suddenly, … the fence near the front of the line opened. A busy guy with a clip board came out and gestured to our section of the line, “Players’ tickets have been released — I need the next 25 of youz to go to the ticket office.”
?????? – We hustled over to the ticket office where the gal behind the counter slapped two tickets down and said, “$50.”
I paid $50 and we walked through the gates to find our seats —– 25 rows back behind home plate.
Yep – home plate. You know — right where the guys step on that flat white thing to score a home run.
As we settled into our seats, I turned to ask the guys in the blue and red shirts in front of us who we were playing. They gave me a long exasperated look and then answered with every form of “DUH” they could muster (which in Boston, is considerable), “Da Yankees.”
The Take-Away: We had a nice cold beer and an excellent hot dog, and we cheered for the home team. We had a very fun day watching baseball in Fenway Park.