Contrary to what everyone may be thinking, I will not use this wonderful opportunity afforded me by Evan to rant and rave against Theo, the play of Coco, or even my love affair with Andy Marte. Instead, I?m going to focus on one of the most positive aspects of Red Sox Nation, one that is both maligned and revered, often in the same sentence.
Growing up, most people can?t really appreciate Fenway Park. Sure, we hear of the history and the stories from our elders of everything that has occurred on the field, and we see the pictures and occasionally get to the games, but it truly takes some distance to appreciate the true wonders of our ballpark.
But before I delve any deeper into this subject, some personal history. I?m one of the relatively rare fans brought into Red Sox Nation by my mother, a die-hard since 1966. I would hear wonderful stories of the ?Lightning in a Bottle? season and the 1975 World Series, along with the heartbreak of ?86 and countless stories in between. As a child, we would go to Fenway (when it was possible to get tickets easily) several times a year, with some of my fondest memories taking place in section 33 against the Monster. I loved baseball as much as I loved breathing, and it was my main obsession.
That is, until 94, and the strike which absolutely killed me. Everyone has a moment when they realize that life isn?t ever going to be fair for the first time, and this was mine. As if losing my favorite sport for the remainder of the year wasn?t bad enough, and losing faith in my heroes, we had managed to score tickets to newly opened Camden Yards to see the Sox a mere 2 days following the strike. It was heartbreaking.
And so, from 1995 on, I watched baseball, but never devoted any real time or thought to it. I would watch Pedro pitch his gems, but never had the same live and die connection that everyone else had. In the meantime, I was busy with high school and college admissions, until I finally moved away for 4 long years to Chicago. Then, in 2003, everything finally clicked again. The promise of a Sox / Cubs World Series was too much to resist, especially with me mere miles from Wrigley?s box office. I fell in love again, just in time to see the ALCS gut punch.
All of this lead up has a point, so bear with me. My self-imposed exile from live baseball, 4 years in Chicago, and 1 year in Philadelphia kept me away from Fenway Park for over a decade. In that time span, the Sox got new owners, a new GM, and most importantly, won a World Series. Finally, just this season, I was able to go back.
I really didn?t know what to expect going into Fenway. I?d loved it as a kid, but sometimes ?you can?t go back,? and I was afraid of it not being the same as I remembered it. Of course I knew of all the modifications that had taken place, but I was leery re-entering one of the key places of my youth.
May 25th, 2006, Red Sox vs. the Devil Rays. We arrived at the Prudential Center (cheap parking can?t be beat!) 2 hours before game time, having just landed at Manchester Airport about an hour before. With every step closer to the park, on the same route we used to walk when I was a child, I could feel the excitement growing. Gone were the dingy Kenmore dives, replaced with multi-million dollar condos and beautiful restaurants. Clearly the area had changed.
Walking onto Yawkey Way was simply surreal. The atmosphere was total jubilation, with both fans and workers happy just to be there at all. With all the modifications to the park, I?d never realized how much of a difference the simple feeling of warmth can give to a fanbase. In the afterglow of the World Series championship, and most importantly with an ownership group that tries to make the experience as positive as possible, this was not the same Fenway Park I remembered as a child.
Wrigley Field, US Cellular, Camden Yards, Citizens Bank Park and PNC were all wonderful places to watch games, for many varied reasons. Camden Yards and PNC are near architectural perfection, the epitome of what the retro style should be. CBP is a tremendous place to watch a game, with great sightlines and amenities. Wrigley Field is quirky, classic, and filled to the brim with history. But none of them compare to Fenway.
If Fenway were the only park you were to ever see, it would seem like a good place to watch a game, but its considerable downsides would outlast its benefits. But once you live in another place for several years, you come to appreciate just how wonderful and fortunate we are to have the best ballpark in the majors. It?s the atmosphere of walking down a closed-off Yawkey Way with a monster dog, passing the brass band and the stilt man, seeing the Sox legend of the day signing autographs, before stepping out of the dark concourse into the greenest thing you will ever see in your life. It?s the sightlines of being right on top of the action. It?s the intelligent, fiercely vocal, dedicated fans who pack the house every night. It?s the unforced quirkiness of the dimensions, which adds to the feeling that you are in a piece of living history. And it?s the team, an endlessly lovable group who fight for the Old Towne Team.
Wrigley is packed every night, but it doesn?t have the charm. Yankee Stadium is brimming with history, but it?s like entering a warzone rather than a ballpark. PNC is the most beautiful park in the majors, with amenities galore, but it doesn?t have the inimitable atmosphere. Nothing comes close to offering the sheer range and magnitude of delights as Fenway Park, whether it?s game 1 of the 2004 World Series, or an afternoon game against the Royals.
I understand the downsides, especially considering last night?s game. Sitting in the end of grandstand 5 on a sunny day, a guy with a big head in front of me, and a walkway completely blocking my view is about as bad of a situation as you can get outside of a post in your face. And at 35,000 seats and change, it is nearly impossible to just show up and get tickets. And the concourses are narrow and dark, with none of the unimpeded sightlines of the new retros.
But if being away has taught me anything, it?s that you can come home again. My years apart only served to reveal the wonders of the Nation?s home, in ways I never dreamed possible. Henry and co. have taken a historic but decrepit park and turned it into the showpiece of the major leagues, as the most important sports venue in our country.
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