(Except I live in New England, and so for a scattered few moments in the baseball season, it’s go, Red Sox.)
A few weeks ago, my son hatched a plan where we would take his two youngest (nearly-5-year old twins) to Fenway Park so they could get their first taste of his team, the Red Sox. He was about a year younger than his children when I first took him there. I didn’t take him out of any sense of fandom. It was more because, well, Fenway. I love baseball and grew up reading about the Curse, and about Fenway. On that long-ago day, nearly 30 years in the past, we sat by the Green Monster and ate popcorn and hot dogs and had a grand old time listening to that awesome Bawsten accent of our fellows. I don’t remember who was playing, other than the Red Sox. I do remember leaving early but leaving happy that we’d made the trek (about an hour and a half from our house).
So, yeah. Sign me up. I’m in the middle of giving and grading finals, but we drove to the nearest T station, rode it to Fenway, and walked around what could only be described as a Boston party that stretched for blocks outside the park. We got face-painted. We posed beside Tessie, and a guy on stilts. We were handed multiple souvenirs, including four bobble-head dolls which are, I guess, quite the collector’s item (I gave mine to my son; maybe he can trade it for one he doesn’t have).
Once the game started, three of us were mostly attuned to when the cotton candy guy would come up our row, but once again, we were seated in center field by the Monster, surrounded by happy people sloshing beer, throwing peanuts, and basically enjoying a perfect night for baseball. We lasted an entire inning, but were leaving the park as the Sox sent their second home run over the wall. It was, from what we heard in the car on the way home, a great game.
While we were cheering and eating and giggling, I wanted to burst into the chorus of “Circle of Life,” but my son gets rank-tired of me getting all nostalgic and sloppy, so I didn’t. But on the T-ride back to our car, I cuddled the girl-child, who was fighting to stay awake, and it hit me just how very lucky am I.