This Looks Like Fun

Nine years ago, the Red Sox made the playoffs for the first time in a long time behind Pedro, John Valentin, Troy O'Leary, and Nomar. They won the first series against the Indians (behind a crazy pitching performance from Pedro) and were facing the Yankees for the American League Pennant.

Since this was the first time I understood the Sox were good (although I have memories of 1986 and that tragedy, I was only 8 at the time, and didn't really understand), me and my friend Van drove down from Vermont for game 3. We had the naive plan that we would just walk up to the ticket booth and get tickets for the game. Ha!

When we got to Fenway, there was a buzz, even though the game didn't start til the next day. We wandered around, not really sure what to do, when a radio reporter approached us (I think he was from BU, which potentially means he was from NPR (since BU is the carrier for NPR in Boston)) and asked us where we were from, how excited we were, and how much we were willing to spend on tickets. Being fairly poor college kids, we said $50, like that was a lot of money. The reporter audibly guffawed.

On the day of the game, we got up at like 4, and got a ride into Fenway; we were going to be first in line!

When we showed up, the line was already long. Really long. Pedro was scheduled to pitch against Roger Clemens.

We hung out, bs-ing with the other people in line. Eventually, I think around 10, the ticket office opened. We really weren't sure if there would be enough tickets for us. We certainly knew we wouldn't be able to afford scalper tickets.

As we approached the front, they started cutting people off from the line, as the tickets were getting low. They stopped the line maybe 10 people in front of us, and we were sad. But then a few minutes later, they opened up again. We inched forward, hoping we would get past the ticket bouncer.

As we timidly passed him, we were elated. Then he put up the hand to the people behind us. We were the last ones in.

When we got the ticket booth, there was a weird pause, like we weren't sure what to ask for. I mean it was pretty obvious why we were there, right? So finally, we asked if there were any more tickets.

'Well, we have 4 left, but they're standing room, obstructed view. $50.'

I don't know if it is possible to answer 'we'll take em' any faster.

This was game 3 of a 7 game series, which the Sox were down 2-0 (they eventually lost 4-1). But this was the ultimate game. Pedro and Clemens at the top of their games. Fenway was rocking the way only old, cramped, smelly, uncomfortable stadiums can. The fragile steel beams were shaking with every chant of "Rog-er, Rog-er, Rog-er" and with every Pedro strikeout. When Valentin (or maybe O'Leary) hit a grand slam, the place went insane.

Eventually, Roger was chased from the game, Pedro pitched maybe 6 innings of good ball, and the Red Sox cruised to an easy victory, their only one in the series.

Whenever I watch a Sox game like last night's, or all those crazy playoff games in 2004, I remember Fenway that night, in all its crumbling, shaking, green beauty.

One of these years, it would be nice to go to one of these series clinching games, where the players spray champagne on you after the ninth inning and people don't want to go home. With the rapidly escalating cost of tickets, and increasing rabid-ity of Sox fans, this may be getting more and more impossible with each passing year.

But really, that looks like fun. And I was able to experience it once 8 years ago.

(photo copied from Boston.com)