Witnessing a No Hitter

Sean O comes out of the comments and gives us his first hand account of Jon Lester’s no hitter at Fenway Park. Remember, this is the same person whose pregame comments consisted of, “This is the FOURTH TIME I’ll have seen Lester this year. What have I done to deserve this?”

Last night was amazing. I should start off a guest column with something far better than a generic statement of exuberance, but there’s simply no other way of explaining it. As I’ve explained several times in the past few weeks, I have a statistically-unlikely ability to only attend games pitched by Jon Lester. This wasn’t so great for the first two times this year, when Lester walked a ton of people and generally got hammered. But over the last two outings, he has been otherworldly: 17 IP, 0 R, 1 H, 6 BB, 15 K.

Walking around The Greatest City in the World all day was pretty difficult due to the outrageous wind buffeting us from every direction. While walking down by the Prudential Center, I remarked that “either there’ll be dual nohitters tonight, or there’ll be 12 homers” because of the wind. Lo and behold, I was 1/3rd right, so a new record for me.

We got there pretty late after eventually meeting up with our friends right before first pitch. The couple we were going with begged out earlier, which led to an all-day search for somebody else to attend. And, most famously, this involved MVN founder and all-around nice guy Evan deciding against attending the game. The no hitter, as a reminder. Ain’t that something.

One of the most surprising parts of an altogether surprising night was how normal the game seemed. Lester was on from the start, but unlike so many of the no hitters I’ve seen, it wasn’t until about the 6th when he truly displayed no hit stuff. Early on, he was getting weak contact (which we’ve become accustomed to), but he wasn’t mowing anybody down ala Beckett’s WS game one. The third inning’s outburst of scoring (including a remarkably bone-headed play by Grudzielanek) was clearly the emotional highlight of the first 6 innings.

Then came the fourth inning. Ellsbury’s diving catch provided the first moment when I felt there could be a no hitter. Much like the razor-thin save by Pedroia in Buchholz’s no hitter, and the near-bunt single by the first batter in Unit’s perfect game, there always appears to be that one great scare along the way.

Afterwards, Lester only got stronger and stronger, and by the 7th, the crowd finally started showing emotion. This continued in the 8th, when entire sections were standing from the beginning of the inning onwards, anticipating history. I kept switching my gaze between Lester and the pitch count, which was growing dramatically.

Finally, the 9th inning. Now, the really unfortunate part of the story. We had standing room tickets (of course), and had nabbed a spot in the second row of people right behind the plate. When nobody is standing in the seating bowl in front, you have a surprisingly good view of the entire field, for a fraction of the cost of a real seat. The problem comes from these tense moments, when the entire crowd stands up, reducing your view to nothing.

So, I saw little to nothing about the 9th inning. Even though I was less than 200 feet from the plate, I had possibly the worst understanding of what was really going on. My ninth inning involved a tense combination of the following: timing my jump so I could see the plate right as the ball passed, pounding on the shoulders of my friends, staring at the pitch count, and praying to any deity that would listen.

So with the last pitch, and the crowd noise rising to a deafening pitch, and with me attempting to see anything I could, I heard about the no hitter simply due to the crowd reaction and the wonderful start to Dirty Water. From there on, I remember hugging everyone around me, and taking blurry, vague photos of the reaction.

We waited for another 15-20 minutes as I got text messages from seemingly everyone I’ve ever met, including an incomprehensible screaming call with my (die-hard fan) mother, and some taunting/consoling of Evan. Outside the park had the same excitement as the clinching ALCS game 7, just with more pure joy at what we had witnessed. Every year there’s an ALCS champion, but out of roughly 7500 games played at Fenway Park, this is the 11th no hitter in its history.

I did my part to help the Boston economy by purchasing a program and a shirt and anything else I could find, while I listened to total strangers screaming into cellphones. I have never seen the Kenmore station so crowded, as I can’t imagine anyone leaving early.

It was an exceptional night I will never forget. I am proud of Jon Lester, not only because of what he’s accomplished, but for proving the doubters (of which I was paramount) wrong with his performance. And I hope that Anthony Rizzo, recently diagnosed with cancer, can see that there’s nothing stopping a full recovery and return to baseball.