Category Archives: Sports

Watch Out for Pigeons!

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Anyone who knows me at all knows I love roller coasters. I love them all … but for me, there’s nothing that comes near the Cyclone at Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York. Been riding it since I was 8 years. I’m ready to go again. Just say the word. But I think I’d have to go alone. My friends and husband have declared themselves too crotchety to do it again. Bah. Humbug.

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If a goose can bring down a 747, it is not irrational to believe a pigeon can derail a roller coaster. Just thought I’d mention it.

Here’s a crazy video of the coaster and nutty middle-aged people enjoying the last great legal high. How many of us leave this ride limping, wondering if we are as insane as we appear to be? I would say yes, we are insane. After last summer’s excursion to Busch Gardens, almost a year later … I’m still limping! But oh, that wonderful adrenaline rush as you look down the first drop, wondering if this time, the car really is going to hit a pigeon and you will go flying off into eternity. What a way to go, right?

Map of Coney Island in 1879

Map of Coney Island in 1879

This is still the best video I’ve seen to date.  Clean, almost sort of  like being there. Nah. Who am I kidding? There’s nothing like being there except being there. Garry says we’re too old, just because I can’t even stand up straight. He points out I can barely walk. But  you don’t have to walk on the Cyclone. You just sit and scream. I can do it. I can, really. Especially the screaming.

Well, we’ll always have 2009 in Brooklyn.

Ah, the refreshing sounds of joy mixed with terror! What a great thing it is to be safely scared to death. Just gotta go back … one last time. I hear the new rides are FANtastic. And here, a sentimental song and a look at those long ago days of doo wop and 1962 … beehive hairdo and mini skirts. Gee. I was the same age that my granddaughter is now … yikes.

Hey Brooklyn … how are you?

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Garry’s Baseball Movie Picks

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Summer will come. It’s already officially well into springtime. To me, this means baseball. Red Sox doing pretty well, so far. What could be better?

You guessed it. Baseball and movies, and especially movies about baseball that combine my two favorite pastimes. Put them together and I’m in heaven! I know it’s all subjective so here is my list of favorite baseball movies plus a few anecdotes.

FIELD OF DREAMS  — Perhaps the perfect film for a life-long baseball fan with memories of baseball “when the grass was green” and they had just 8 teams in each major league. For many years, I had the lineups of ALL the teams committed to memory. James Earl Jones’ monologue about baseball says it all for me and why it remains so dear to my heart.

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THE NATURAL – Robert Redford‘s Roy Hobbs is a sanitized version of the dark Bernard Malamud novel. But Redford who played college ball looks very natural (a welcome change from the awkward Hollywood baseball movies of the past) as the lefty hitter and southpaw pitcher. Hobbs is the reel version of real life baseball player, Eddie Waitkus who I remember from long ago. Redford has said he modelled his stance and swing after Boston Red Sox legend, Ted Williams. “Teddy Ballgame” who didn’t have an affinity for the media, took a liking to me and shared his feeling about movies in general. #9 liked John Wayne movies. So did I. We swapped anecdotes about time spent with “The Duke”. Asked about Redford’s Roy Hobbs, Williams said, “He’ll do”. I still get goose bumps every time Hobbs literally knocks out the stadium lights with his game winning hits.

Cover of "Bull Durham"

BULL DURHAM – Could easily be my number one baseball movie. It’s real, funny and well done. I spent time with our local Triple A team and can tell you “Bull Durham” is right on the mark, smack down to the clichés, the clichés notebook, the bus trips, the small town ball parks and the parallel lives of players ascending and descending as they focus on reaching “the show”. Kevin “Crash Davis” Costner was never better as the career minor league catcher who nurtures brash “wild thing” pitching prospect, Tim Robbins. And, yes, there are real life Susan Sarandons who also “nurture” players. You could look it up!!

PRIDE OF THE YANKEES – Yes, even if you’re not a Yankee fan, there is no way you cannot admire Lou Gehrig — the player and the man. And, there’s no way you cannot appreciate Gary Cooper’s performance as he breathes life into the baseball legend. Coop was a natural right-hander and they needed some photographic “magic” to transform him into the lefty hitting Gehrig. But Cooper captured Gehrig’s professional and private mannerisms. Ted Williams, who remembered Gehrig, said Gary Cooper got it “just right”. The closing scene of Coop/Gehrig walking into the dugout and into the darkening tunnel — is a classic.

MAJOR LEAGUE – Funny and endearing. Reminds me of Casey Stengel and his original lovable, bumbling “Amazin Mets”. The outcasts who become heroes never gets old. I still remember interviews with “The Ol’ Perfesser” extolling the ‘virtues’ of his hapless players like “Marvelous” Marv Throneberry and “Choo Choo” Coleman who would become the character types for the “Major League” comic baseball heroes. Art imitates life.

THE BAD NEWS BEARS – The original with Walter Matthau and Tatum O’Neal. This is another one that never gets old. It’s the Little League version of “Major League”. It resonates with me because of my hapless days as a kid playing on the street and in pickup games on local fields. I couldn’t hit and couldn’t field. But my imitation of my hero “Duke” Snider at the plate was pretty good.

61*  – Billy Crystal’s HBO movie and homage to his beloved N.Y. Yankees and their memorable 1961 season with the Mantle-Maris chase of Babe Ruth’s home run record. Again, I had the good fortune to interview Mantle and Maris — just a year later when the draining physical and mental effects of that legendary year were still very obvious.

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THE BOYS OF SUMMER – TV documentary of the beloved Brooklyn Dodgers of the 40′s and 50′s. It peaks with the “Bums” finally winning the World Series in 1955 after many, many years of losing to their nemesis, The Yankees. These were the heroes of my youth. The “Duke”, Campy, Pee Wee, Jackie Robinson, Gil Hodges and all the rest. I lived and died with victories and defeats. When the Dodgers left Brooklyn for Los Angeles, a piece of me died. *One of the two biggest personal moments in my professional life was meeting my baseball hero, “Duke” Snider. He was in the twilight of his career but still had that sweet swing and classic jog. “The Boys of Summer” keeps my childhood memories alive.

BASEBALL  – Ken Burns multi-segment documentary on baseball. A historical TREASURE looking at the game from its birth, the parallel social environment as the game changed and evolved across decades and a century. It also arrived on the scene amid a baseball strike. Perfect timing for distraught fans!!

(*John Wayne was the other professional/personal highlight that tops a well-remembered list.)

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Ouch!

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I don’t want this to sound as if I think I’m special because I deal with pain. I realize I’ve got plenty of company. It’s just that sometimes, I feel like I’m in an over-crowded lifeboat. Sinking.

There a central irony to this story, so I’ll start with the irony and go from there.

Parents, school advisors, well-meaning friends and family are forever urging kids to get out and get physical. Join a team. Take up a sport. Get some fresh air. Exercise. It’s good for you, right?

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It is good for you. Mostly. But. Youthful athletic activity is often the start of a lifetime of pain. How many young men destroy their knees playing football? How many girls dislocate their spines in gymnastics? How many head injuries happen during little league baseball games? How many broken backs are the result of falling off horses? It’s not rare or unusual.

These days, everyone knows about the dangers, but it doesn’t stop kids from playing or parents from encouraging their involvement. Safety equipment is available, but injuries happen anyhow. Active sports are dangerous. It’s a fact. I’m not suggesting anyone stop playing sports. Life is meant to be lived, risks and all.

The irony is that sports are good for you if you don’t get hurt. If the helmet keeps the baseball from braining you. If getting tackled doesn’t tear the ligaments and tendons in your knees. If you don’t break your ankle coming down from a jump shot. If you ride well, don’t fall and land on your butt … or head.

For me, it was horses. I love horses. I love riding. I didn’t take lessons. I just got on and rode. I fell a few times. It looks funny when you land on your butt. Everyone laughs as you get up and limp back to your mount. You’re young. You suck it up.

Ignoring pain isn’t necessarily good. Pain can mean something is wrong. I dislocated my spine. Repeatedly. Each fall worsened the problem. One day after riding, I noticed my back didn’t hurt. I couldn’t feel much of anything. My back was numb and aside from tingling, so was my right leg. That scared me. I was used to pain. I figured it was part of athletics. No pain, no gain, isn’t that what everyone says? But numbness was new and I figured maybe I should see a doctor.

My spine was 50% displaced and was pressing on my spinal cord. Which accounted for the lack of sensation. If something wasn’t done about it, I was going to be in a wheel chair before I was old enough to vote — 21 back then.

At 19, it hadn’t occurred to me I might have a real problem. In those days, we didn’t run to the doctor for every bang, bruise or pain not because we were tougher, but because we were ignorant. We’re more sophisticated these days but in the early 1960s, no one thought much about sports injures. Kids played hockey, rode bikes and horses, played sandlot baseball. Nobody owned safety equipment. If we had, we’d have been embarrassed to use it. Only a total weenie would wear a helmet on a bicycle. Has that changed or do kids remove their helmets the moment they are out of mom’s sight?

I went to the doctor. He told me to do absolutely nothing until he got me into surgery. I got a second identical opinion. Don’t bend. Don’t lift. Don’t fall. Don’t do anything. I asked if that meant I couldn’t ride. The surgeon looked at me like I had two heads, both stupid. I figured he meant “No.”

My surgeon didn’t enumerate the risks. I doubt it would have made any difference if he had. I wasn’t going through life unable to do anything active. Whatever the risks, I wanted to be repaired. I wanted to ride. At 19, I had a spinal fusion and laminectomy.

The doctor mentioned I might develop some arthritis at the site of the surgery later in life.

“Uh huh,” I said. Later in life was a million years away. After I healed — a two-year process — I went back to riding. I never fell again. I took lessons, a wise move that might have prevented youthful injuries, but my parents were unwilling to pay for lessons. Too frivolous.

Fast forward 47 years, arthritis began to make inroads. I had to stop riding. My doctor explained if I fell, I might not get up. Ever. The fusion had disintegrated. I was glued together by arthritis, nature’s way of keeping my spine intact. When the pain got worse, I went back to my doctor.

“Surely,” I said to him, “you can do something for me.”

“No,” he said. “Pain management. Cortisone shots will help. For a while.”

I’ve been down cortisone road. The shots do help for a few weeks, after which the pain returns. The human spine isn’t engineered for bipeds. Many of us have spinal weaknesses we don’t know about until after we get hurt. When I was young, a bad back was not so common. With the passing of decades, almost everyone I know has some kind of back problem. Unless you are very lucky, the chances you’ve had a back injury are high. So I live with pain and quite possibly, so do you.

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There are a lot of members of the back pain club. After you join the club, you usually get a lifetime membership. I finally discovered I have a problem I can’t fix. No amount of persistence, research, medical attention or cleverness is going to make it go away. So I’ve designed the world to make my back happy. We have a back-friendly home. From our adjustable bed, to the reclining sofa, our place is kind to spines.

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There’s no moral to this story. It’s just life. If you don’t die young and live an active life, you hurt. The years roll on, pain gets worse.

I yearn for a scooter, but the one I want doesn’t exist. I want a scooter that’s an ATV, but weighs like a bicycle and folds up. There is no such thing. I probably couldn’t afford it if it did, but I can dream.

I have had to accept reality but I do not have to like it. Sooner or later we all face an intractable problem or several. It’s a nasty shock if you’ve always believed you are unstoppable. When you hit that wall, I recommend you get some very comfortable furniture.

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For Garry on the occasion of his birthday … Casey at the Bat

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Unlike Casey, you’ll always be hitting home runs with me! I’m your biggest fan and always will be.

Casey at the Bat

by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, “If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.”

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile lit Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one!” the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted someone on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, “Strike two!”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

Super Bowl of Dogdom: Westminster, Part II

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Its day two, and we are not going to miss a thing. It’s our version of the Superbowl, the Westminster Kennel Club show.

Last night’s results were:

An American Foxhound in the Hound group.

Non-sporting went to a Bichons Frises.

The Affenpinscher as the toy group winner.

 In the Herding Group, the Old English Sheepdog won (yay).

Now for tonight’s winners.

For Sporting Dogs, the winner was one of my favorites and it’s the first time the breed has taken the group. It’s the Pointer (German Wirehaired), a handsome dog with a great face. Not a dog for everyone, it’s one of the dogs that needs a job. Failing a job, they will make their own job … redoing your landscaping, reupholstering your furniture, replacing your wiring.

In the Working group, to many peoples’ surprise, the winner was Portuguese  Water Dog. It that because the President has one? It was a come from behind win … the Doberman Pinscher was favored and I think was really the better dog. But at this level, they are all great dogs.

The Terriers were up next, and we had a lot of fuzzy faces to root for here. Of course we hoped for one of our kids, a Scottie or a Norwich, but it was Smooth Fox Terrier – a fine dog with a lot of attitude. Terriers are the ultimate “attitude” group and are not called “terrorists” for nothing.

And then finally, it’s time for best in show. For those of you that love dogs and haven’t seen the movie, “Best In Show,” see it. It’s funny and it hits the nail on the head. The crazy, hyper competitive world of dogs. Showing dogs is a sport, something that people forget, and those that compete in it are as competitive as players in any other sport. The dogs are competitors too. Don’t believe for a moment that you force a dog to be a good show dog. A dog that doesn’t like being shown, that doesn’t play to the judge and the crowd is not going to do well. These dogs are having a grand time.

And it’s Banana Joe (GCH Slyfox Sneak’s A Peek), the Affenpinscher who clearly does not consider himself a small dog. Lots of attitude, with Bugaboo’s Picture Perfect, the Old English Sheepdog as reserve winner (the first time they’ve had a reserve winner at Westminster). They were clearly the crowd’s two favorites and apparently the judge agreed.

And that’s it for another year. Time to give a few biscuits to our kids because they are Best in Show around here!

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Super Bowl of Dogdom: Westminster, Part I

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Our version of the Superbowl, tonight is the first night of the Westminster Kennel Club show. This is our event. I’ve been watching Westminster since I was a kid and except for years when I lived overseas, I’ve never missed it.

And the first night’s results are in.

It was an American Foxhound in the Hound group. It may have surprised others, but I thought that it was about time of one of the smooth coated pack hounds won, though in my heart, I was rooting for the PBGV because I love the breed. They slid in at number three in the group, which is okay.

Non-sporting went to a Bichons Frises, which was no surprise. I didn’t even have to see the group to figure a Bichon or Standard Poodle would probably win. One of the two usually do. They are flashy and as a friend of mine said, it is so often all about the coat.

I liked the Affenpinscher as the toy group winner. I was very glad it wasn’t another Peke. I admit I am not particularly fond of them. I prefer dogs who can actually move. 

In the Herding Group, I always hope one of the big, solid hard-working dogs like a Bouvier or one of the Belgians will win because although they aren’t flashy, they work for a living. The herding group are all workers.

These are the dogs who guard our homes, manage and protect flocks of cattle and sheep, find buried people, work with police and are among the most loyal dogs. My husband was especially happy with the winner, the Old English Sheepdog. It’s among his favorite dogs. As soon as I saw the look on the judges face when he looked at the dog, I knew it was going to be him. The judge clearly liked that dog. He had an “awww” look. So did we.

Tomorrow will be our favorite group, the Terriers as well as the Working and Sporting dogs and of course, Best In Show. And we will be firmly ensconced in front of the television, surrounded by our spoiled dogs, rooting for our favorites.

Pass the popcorn, please.

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Party!

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Party!

I have spent this day multi-tasking in the best way. Listening to the audiobook version of “A MEMORY OF LIGHT” for which it feels as if I have been waiting forever while simultaneously running the pictures from last night’s party through Photoshop. As expected, many pictures were too dark and too fuzzy to be worth rescuing, but there was a good selection of pictures that came out reasonably well.

It was a frustrating photographic venue for me and my Canon Powershot sx260 hs, which is a pretty good little point and shoot, does not have a fast enough lens to handle the low available light … nor does it have a good enough strobe to provide discriminating fill flash. Being short does not help either. Tall photographers can see and sometimes reach over the crowd. Even with arms fully extended, I’m still vertically challenged. And yet … I managed to come up with a fair number of acceptable, even good, pictures.

Sign of the Times

Speaking of celebrities, the place was crawling with them but most of them were people I’ve met at other parties and who were colleagues of my husband so it was amusing to realize that he was actually one of the celebrities … and for some obscure reason, I sort of was too, although I’m not really certain why. Some people turned out to follow my blog. One rarely never knows who is following. Just today, I learned Queen Mab of the Winter Fae is following me on Twitter.

I have little familiarity with court protocol, especially of the Fae, but I would certainly not want to be anything but highly respectful of the ruler of this high court! She has some serious magical powers and could make my life very difficult. And she would have been a fine addition to the party.

Mab, Queen of the Winter Fae

So who did we meet and who are in these pictures? First, The Examiner did a story about the party and you can pop on over and read all about it. Queen Mab was not in attendance though I’m sure she would have livened up the affair.

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Garry and I chatted with — and I took some pictures of — Ray Flynn, Mayor of Boston. He was surely the most fun of any mayor Boston has had since the revered Mayor Curley.

Bob Lobel emceed the event and he and Garry also, having been colleagues, had a few memories to share. Derek “Turk” Sanderson, one of the greatest of the Boston Bruins and a Hall of Famer, in whose honor the event was being held was there and he and Garry remembered each other very well indeed. Edward Burns, actor/producer, director Doug Atchison, producer Shep Harmon. All were there to gather support for a movie about “Turk” and his battle against drugs and booze, a battle that many others at this party have also fought.

Noteworthy was that this was a very sober crowd and they still seemed to be having a good time. I’ve never been a drinker, and my one coke (the drink, not the drug) barely slaked my thirst which is not an allegory. I really was thirsty, but the line at the bars were too long to do twice.

Derek “Turk” Sanderson with Bob Lobel
Bob Lobel, emce
Bob Lobel and Shep Harman (producer)
Doug Atchison, director
Garry and Turk (again)
Garry and Turk
Edward Burns, Actor/Producer
Don’t know the ladies, sorry!

This was an amazing —  huge — change from parties of the past. I’m pretty some of these people who knew each other from “the old days” had never spent any time together when all were sober. Something to ponder.

There comes a point with drugs and booze where you have only two choices: quit or die. Because after a certain point, your body isn’t going to tolerate the abuse.

I was glad to see so many people who made the good choice. They quit. Good for all of you. It is a hard battle to fight, harder to win, hardest of all to hang on to that victory. Since winning the battle over addiction is the theme of the movie, it was appropriate that a large number of the attendees knew the story up close and very personal.

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Boston from the Baptist – The Citgo Sign and Fenway Park

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I had to be at the Baptist Hospital today to see my spine guy, harboring a hope that something can be done to make it hurt a bit less. I have been to the Baptist before and I remembered that it was at the top of the hill on Parkman Hill Avenue in the area known to everyone as “hospital city.”

I’m not going to bother to explain what that means because I’m pretty sure you can figure it out. What I did not remember, or perhaps had never noticed, is that the view from the hospital is great, particularly if you’re a baseball fan and the words “CITGO sign” resonate for you.

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There’s a saying in Boston: “London has Big Ben, Paris has the Eiffel Tower. Boston has the CITGO sign.”

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If you are neither a baseball fan and nor from New England, you are probably saying “Huh?” A gigantic neon sign for CITGO does not have the iconic sound that you get from Ayers Rock, Big Ben, or the Taj Mahal, but for Bostonians, it’s so entwined with Fenway Park, the Red Sox, and Boston’s identity that the idea of losing it is unacceptable.

Citgo sign and Yawkey way

Should CITGO cease to exist,  I’m sure Boston would make sure the sign remained, flashing over Fenway Park. It’s as obvious an identifier of Boston as the Empire State Building is of New York or the Gold Gate Bridge is of San Francisco.

From Citgo.com:

 

A Sign Of The Times

The iconic CITGO sign has been a part of the Boston skyline since 1940. Located at 660 Beacon Street, on what was once a Cities Service divisional office, the sign originally featured the Cities Service logo, but was replaced with the famous CITGO “trimark” of today when the CITGO brand was created for the marketing division of Cities Service in 1965.

Efforts to remove the sign in the early 1980s faced fierce opposition and led CITGO to restore the sign, with groups even fighting to declare the sign a landmark.

The CITGO Sign is held in particular high regard by Boston sports fans. Red Sox sluggers are enticed by the so-called “C-IT-GO” sign as they blast home runs over the left-field wall, and runners in the grueling Boston Marathon welcome its sight as the 20th mile mark. Its pulsing flash in the night sky has even been used by mothers-to-be at nearby Beth Israel to time their contractions.

It’s no secret that the CITGO Sign in Boston’s Kenmore Square is beloved by people across the country and around the world. Not only has it become a major image of the city of Boston, featured in postcards and tourist brochures, but the sign was deemed an “Objet d’Heart” by Time Magazine, was photographed by Life Magazine and featured in the New York Times. It has even become a source of inspiration for artists, musicians and filmmakers from around the world.

Want to know more about the famous CITGO sign? Check out the interesting CITGO Sign Facts, and learn more about the man who is known by thousands of locals as the Keeper of the Sign.

Kenmore Square, Bosston - December 19, 2012

Kenmore Square, Boston – December 19, 2012

A Boston Icon Gets a Facelift

In late July 2010, the 45-year-old, 3,600-square-foot sign had all its LED lights replaced with more technologically advanced and environmentally friendly versions. The upgrades required that the sign go dark while the work was done.

Boston residents watched excitedly as the sign was relit on Sept. 17 during the 7th inning stretch of a Red Sox home game— just in time for baseball playoff season. Today, the famous beacon looks better than ever!

When I first came to Boston in 1987, I was puzzled. I couldn’t understand why everyone loved this huge, garish neon sign. Half the time only pieces of it lit up, so what was all the fuss about? It didn’t take me long to get it: this sign was part of the whole Fenway Park-Red Sox mystique, a signature of the park, the team and the city. Moreover, the CITGO sign is visible from far and wide. It is the first landmark I recognized and used to find my way around the peculiar streets of the city. You can use it to find Fenway … and it’s important to be able to find Fenway Park. You might be forgiven for not being able to find Faneuil Hall, but you have to know the way to Fenway. Even if you don’t care about baseball. It’s a Boston thing.

So there I was, on the third floor of the Hospital, which is the lobby floor since the building is built into the hill and suddenly, I looked out and I saw Boston. Better, I saw the CITGO sign … and below it, the green walls of Fenway Park. They tried to build a new ball park some years ago but it turned out the fans didn’t want a new ball park. They wanted Fenway Park. In this house, we simply couldn’t imagine giving up Fenway.

After a great deal of hoopla and political maneuvering,  they renovated the old park. CITGO fixed their sign. All is right with the world: Fenway is safe, at least for a while.

Boston.

Boston.

This year, 2012, was the 100th anniversary of Fenway Park. If the team hadn’t had their worst season in decades, it probably would have been a more gala occasion. Nonetheless, the Red Sox have put together a great website with pictures going back to the turn of the century. Lots of history and more. Check it out!

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