This week’s Frisbee Wednesday is about beisbol, the most American of pastimes in that most American of baseball stadiums, Fenway Park.
This has been a sad, bad year for the Sox. To say they are playing poorly doesn’t begin to cover it. They are playing so badly they would have to win something like 20 games in a row to not be in last place. Pathetic. Awful.
Nonetheless, Garry was not going to miss an opportunity to spend a night at Fenway. Win or lose, an evening at the ball park is a great thing. Even if your team stinks.
You are welcome to use any of the included pictures, or of course, pick and write about any of your own photographs.
May your team be more succesful than ours in this 2015 season.
NIGHTMARE ON YAWKEY WAY by Garry Armstrong
Photos by Garry Armstrong
The title is just a grabber. I ventured, courtesy of a good friend, to my first game at Fenway Park in over 15 years.
It was a steamy hot, muggy Monday afternoon into evening and night. It was just two days removed from the Red Sox back-to-back massacre of the Seattle Mariners. I was hoping, in this wretched season, they could continue their offensive fireworks for at least one more night. For me, the ultimately faithful fan.
The ball park looked wonderful. Just seeing it up close made me temporarily forget lots of things that clog our daily lives with angst. That’s the beauty of baseball and the cathedral known as Fenway Park.
Many of the fans attending the game only know the post-millenium team who won three world series in nine years. Younger fans expect success and feel downright entitled express their anger over the team’s failure to perform.
History is related to ESPN highlights and not the decades of passionately embracing a team that always came up short, usually at the hands of the dreaded Yankees.
The curse of the Bambino is a blurred legend for many. Too bad.
On this night, as the Sox struggled against the Cleveland Indians, it was time just to absorb the sights, sounds and smells of baseball’s oldest major league ball park.
Time to look at the young players who hopefully are writing the prologue for a brighter future in Red Sox nation. They make wonderful plays to offset the mediocre efforts of the veterans.
There was even a home run by one of our new guys that briefly gives “the Olde Towne team” hope for victory. The applause was deafening and carried the faithful at least part way through what was to be another disappointing evening.
Strangers become instant friends during the game, sharing memories about other games, other years. Grandfathers become children remembering their first game. When? Where? Who started?
Sure, the game was different then, but Fenway transcends time. Mookie Betts or one of the other young players could one day have people talking about them, the same way people reminisce about Teddy Ballgame, Yaz, Pedro, Pesky, Fisk and all those heroes from our collective past.
On this night, it’s all about being there and enjoying OUR game.
Is this heaven? No, it’s Fenway Park.