Best Games of 2007 - Fenway Park - 7/14/07

This was not only the best game I went to in 2007 it may have been the best day of my entire life.

It was extra nice because I skipped out on a family function I was supposed to attend in Boston's South Shore suburbs. That is always a bonus - when you can exchange drunkenness at a ballgame for family bullshit. I had hemmed and hawed all day as to whether I should go. I felt a little bad. I thought my family will be there when I get back and there will be more birthdays. But, this is Fenway! How often do you get tix to the Sox on a Saturday night? Later, family, save me some cake.

Almost as soon as I arrived in Boston, my decision to bail on my kin was immediately vindicated. I parked in the garage under the Boston Common and emerged into a dusky summer Paradise. The sun had been chased behind the city's skyscrapers that surrounded the public greens like a fortress, leaving this patch of earth in cool shade. It seemed like the earth had been irked and confused all day but finally figured out what was bothering it, took care of it and now had no worries. It was as if you could feel the earth sit down, kick back and let out a relaxing sigh -Ahhh!

The Common was abuzz with the most pleasurable atmosphere I've ever been in. Frisbees lazily hovered from brother to brother, dogs chased down tennis balls with the utmost zeal and lovers lay on picnic blankets, blades of cool, slippery grass between their toes. Of course, this sounds ridiculously idyllic but I swear to you that's how it was (I'm from NY, I don't see that very often).

The moods got even better as I got closer to Fenway. I found Commonwealth Avenue and paced towards which must have been roughly a mile and a half. Commonwealth is one of the oldest and fanciest and most famous of Boston's boulevards. It reminded me of the old-timey engraving on the Cheers logo. With the exception of the makes and models of the cars on the street I got the impression that little had changed. I liked the idea that eighty years ago some schlub from New York was walking down this same street at the same time of day, going to check out this 'new Fenway Park'. I kept getting more excited. I'm going to the ballgame - and Dice K is pitching!

I was additionally excited because I got to hang with my buddy Rosie, whom I hadn't seen in two years. I met him on the corner Landsdowne & Brookline, just over the Turnpike, behind the Green Monster. Rosie joined me in being the only two idiots in sight, not wearing one of those ubiquitous BoSox T-shirt jerseys. Rosie sported a black Celtics shirt, with "BOSTON" and a green shamrock on the front. Though he was out of uniform on this particular night, Rosie's Sox loyalty cannot be questioned.

I literally met Rosie on the field during a rugby game. He is achingly smart but without a drop of pretentiousness in him. He's a genuinely, good-natured, unassuming, sweetheart of a human being. Simply put- he's the man.

So, I was psyched to see him. It had been a been a while, so we found our seats- fantastic seats under the overhang looking right down the third base line- and quickly began catching up. The catching up was fueled by ceaseless quantities of beer. If the atmosphere outside was nice, it was even better inside. Rosie and I were in a fabulous mood. So, I continued to enjoy myself.

When people say you have to go to Fenway - you have to go to Fenway. I had been there before but I was a kid and not smart enough to appreciate it. It's hard not to get up in the absolute adoration these people have for their ballclub. They love the Red Sox and were genuinely thrilled to watch them play. Red Sox T-Shirt jerseys on the backs of spectators as far as the eye could see - Ramirez, Ortiz, Matsuzaka, Youklis, Williams, Boggs. Every single person there was as happy as Rosie and I were. How could they not be? They were at Fenway to see their Sox on a splendid Saturday night in July.

Fenway is not entirely perfect, however. There are two drawbacks that keep it from attaining perfection- no beer vendors; tiny, tiny seats. Fenway is "family friendly" so they don't have the wandering booze vendors I am so fond of. And the seats were designed for slim, early twentieth century asses, not for my gargantuan, Dorito-eating, new millenium ass. Fenway was designed before the advent of McDonald's and before automobiles phased out walking, so for now we'll have to deal with or lose some weight. But, until then, everytime you want to get a beer you have to extract yourself from those kindergarten-size, knees-in-your-face chairs and shuffle past your row mates and get on line.

I must confess, I don't remember much of the details of the game. I do remember Dice-K let the Jays hang around for a while and I was a die-hard Sox fan for those 3 hours. Hits, I cheered. Strikeouts, I cheered. Great defensive plays, I cheered. And it was the legitimate cheers-the kind that come straight from your gut. The Sox pulled away, "Dirty Water" reverberated throughout the stadium and I turned back into a lonely Mets fan insanely jealous of the Fenway experience.

The night didn't end there. Rosie and I went out and continued to get even more hammered. And all I can remember is $1 pitchers(which was trouble) at a bar near BU and rapping Biggie Smalls at 2 in the morning with mysterious people that always seem to populate drunken nights. "It was all a dream, I used to read Word-Up magazine, Salt-n-Pepa & Heavy D up in the limousine..."

Driving back to New York the next day with a massive hangover and acute anxiety attacks was a hell you can't comprehend. I think it was God's way of punishing me for drinking so damn much even when he rewarded me with one of the best days of my life. Eh, fuck it. It was worth it.